I said it Sunday, and it is important enough to repeat it.
"The most important people in this congregation are the ones that aren't here."
Reading this, you will have to keep firmly in your mind precisely what is meant by "here." "Here" is the Church--wherever that is, dear reader, for you. "Church" is wherever God's people gather to hear the scriptures and to rightly share in the sacraments. Word, sacrament, and those called by God to gather around these things. Wherever that happens for you--with you--that is "here." And the most important people in that place are the ones that aren't there at any given time, which may include you when you are unable or unwilling to be present.
Such a claim seems, well, offensive. At least to the ones who always seem to be at church, the dedicated movers and shakers that are diligent in coming to the scriptures and diligent in living among God's faithful people. I suppose it is offensive...until one figures out what Jesus wishes his disciples to do and to be.
On Sunday, the gospel text was the story of Jesus inviting, nay calling, the first disciples. He was walking along the Sea of Galilee, and he saw Andrew and his brother Simon (later renamed Peter) out on the sea in a boat fishing. Jesus stops and yells out to them: "Follow me! And I will send you out to fish for people!" Immediately, they drop their nets, jump into the water, and swim to shore. From that point forward they follow Jesus, who gives them a whole new purpose and profession in life. The disciples of Jesus Christ are fishers of people.
Jesus' analogy for discipleship is genius. His most brilliant teachings come through image-based metaphors and parables (analogous stories that provoke us to find parallel situations in our own lives and apply the moral principle of that story). And "fishers of people" is a delightful mash up that explains the life of discipleship far more powerfully than is evident at first blush.
What does the fisherman focus on?
Fish.
Specifically, the fish that haven't been caught yet.
A fisherman's attention and energy are focused on one goal, one quarry. A good fisherman is one who knows where the fish will be, where they like to be, and will have the equipment to draw them in. When a fisherman is out fishing, everything else is sacrificed for the sake of that one purpose.
In Jesus' day, those who fished for a living are more alike to commercial fishers today. They used nets, not poles and line. Yet, the same principle holds true for the fishing we are more familiar with personally.
I remember fishing in my youth, with my father. We would go down to the Rock River or to Pierce Lake (both in Rockford, IL). Once out of the car, we would walk what felt like a great distance to find the "right spot." When there was perfectly good shoreline very close to the car. Then, before we would set up our chairs, we would spend an impossibly long time preparing our fishing rods, tying hooks to the end of our lines, and carefully, firmly placing bait on the hooks. By the time we cast out, I was bored (remember, I was young). Though bored, and surrounded by a beautiful and curious nature begging to be explored, nature sitting there waiting for someone to play in it, we were required to sit in one place and watch fishing poles that never seemed to move. We couldn't leave. We couldn't artificially create action by repeatedly casting, which felt like doing something but was, evidently, counterproductive. For the sake of the hoped-for fish, we sat and watched and waited. Some days, a pitifully short burst of excitement produced a fish in the net, which seemed hardly worth all the effort and patience (to my young mind). Success simply served as stark relief to highlight the time wasted in sitting there waiting. While most days, the only fish we saw were the ones back home in the aquarium. It would have been more fun catching and release those fish. Yet, no matter the success or failure, the activity or boredom, my father was unfazed. Like the person who knows what he wants, my father was willing to do the work, willing to wait all day, just for the chance. The fisherman has but one goal and focus: the fish.
Really, the only danger to me in fishing was boredom. Yet, commercial fishing--even today--is one of the most physically demanding and dangerous professions in the world. The fisherman cares for the safety of his crew, but not for their comfort. Indeed, the whole crew is bound together in the bond of common purpose which breeds deep relationship. Yet, the whole crew sacrifices a great deal for the sake of catching fish.
In a boat out on the water, the boredom inflicted upon me while fishing in my youth was complete. There was nowhere to go to escape the tedium. "Can we swim?" I would ask. "No. It will chase off the fish." Several times in the afternoon, I would try, "I have to go to the bathroom." At school, and most other activities, this statement would immediately produce a small reprieve, a break from stress or boredom--a short stroll, something else to focus on. But out on the boat, the response was an exasperated, "Can you hold it?" And when I couldn't, the tactic never produced a trip to shore to stretch my legs. At times, I would attempt to treat the boredom with conversation. Or my brother and I would reach a boiling point and begin to argue or pester one another. Both means of breaking the silence were met with: "You're too loud, you'll scare the fish away." Or, "Stop moving around, the fish can hear you."
The fisherman relegates to the periphery not just the crew, but all other human beings. If a fisherman, while fishing, thinks of his loved ones, it is only for the sake of motivating him in his cause. "I must catch the fish to feed and support my wife and kids." All other consideration of the beloved is suspended.
Mom usually didn't go fishing with us. Out on the water for hours and hours, I would miss her terribly. Curiously, Dad didn't seem to. As the hours dragged by, I would worry "Maybe we should go home," I would say, "Mom might miss us--maybe she needs us home." Dad would respond, "Mom is fine. She knows where we are; she knows we're fishing." Sometimes an afternoon at the water would turn into and evening, too. As darkness fell around us, I would suggest, "Didn't mom want us home before dark?" Then Dad would utter words that we all knew were untrue: "She won't mind. We'll just stay out a little bit longer. We are going to get a bite soon, I can feel it." I always considered his tendency to place mother as a secondary concern in his single-mindedness on the fish to be...perilous...and chancy.
When the fisherman isn't fishing, he is preparing to fish and thinking about fishing. In Jesus' day, a lot of hard work went into preparing and maintaining the tools of the trade. Fisherman would mend nets, maintain their boats, and engage in all sorts of toil and tedium (investing a great deal of capital)--all for the sake of the next fish.
At home, between fishing trips, my father would spend a great deal of time and energy preparing. He would clean, repair, and otherwise tend his fishing poles. He would sit and organize his tackle box. He would go shopping for new and expensive poles, line, lures, sinkers, and other tools of the trade. He would sit before the TV and watch what remain among the most boring shows on air--the fishing shows. All to gain tips and tricks for catching "the big one."
What, then, does the Christian focus on?
People.
Specifically, the people who are not in the church...yet.
According to Jesus, the Church is a place for fishers. As fishermen and -women live for the fish, so Jesus' disciples live for people. We care for family and for one another, and yet our purpose is to bring in others. Our passion is to go out and cast the net. And even when we aren't out there, for we cannot be on the water all the time, we prepare. The preparation begins with mending and enlarging the net: "How can I tell the story of Jesus' love to make others see?" And everything we do is infused with that purpose of drawing the most important people further in. Every person caught up in the net of the Kingdom of God is "the big one."
And if you feel that you are ill equipped to fish for people, remember who Jesus calls. Jesus didn't invite public figures, orators, sales people, or celebrities. Jesus called fishers. Andrew and Simon were skilled at engaging fish. Engaging humans requires different skills. What a career change! Yet these simple fishermen trusted Jesus, believed in him, and Jesus provided all the equipment they needed.
The disciples' net is the Word of God. And the Word never comes back to us empty.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore..." --Matthew 13:47-48a
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Monday, October 31, 2016
Religious Freedom
"People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom of thought which they seldom use." -Soren Kierkegaard
The above quote is both dated and harsh. Dated because in Soren's day freedom of speech was evidently not a thing in Denmark. Today, freedom of speech is an important--and core--value in democratic nations, like the United States. I think it is a good value to maintain and protect. And Kierkegaard's biting wit is harsh, but perhaps in a helpful way. The point of the quote seems to hold true today. I distill the following lesson: "We rarely exercise the freedoms we have before we go out seeking more." When this is the case, I believe that the sought after "more" or "new freedom" is often really a grab for power or dominance or preeminence...but that is another blog.
When thinking about religious freedom in the United States of America, prayer becomes a good litmus test. Curiously, the only segment of Christianity that pays attention to this litmus test is that on the righthand side of the political spectrum. Many faithful Christians worry over--and speak out about--Christian prayer in public place. Most notably, prayer in public schools. The rhetoric is pervasive: the government refuses to allow our young people to pray, and this is destroying the faith and the moral fabric of our nation. The ban on prayer in public schools is seen as an infringement on not just Christianity, but on our nation's core value of religious liberty itself.
And yet, Christians are, indeed, free to pray in this country--and in public! I often pray out-loud, and even loudly, before meals in restaurants. I pray out-loud and noticeably in hospital waiting rooms, work places, stores, parks, jails, schools and courthouses. No one has locked me up. Bakers will still sell me cakes. Now, these prayers are almost always said with a small group of people, and I am not given the authority of the government to speak for all who are present. I pray for and with the ones who--in freedom--decide to participate for themselves. This is crucial, as it is much different than a judge or a teacher (as government officials or employees) praying in a Christian way from a position of power.
Our children can pray at school, especially if we take St. Paul's exhortation seriously: "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (see 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). A student has freedom to pray before a test. Students have the freedom to circle up and pray in public between the bus and the school building--or even, if it doesn't disrupt the work they must do, in the classroom or cafeteria or playground. Such freedom we have already is no small thing. There are yet places in the world that any open or noticeable Christian prayer is met with imprisonment, violence, or death. In many countries, church attendance is dangerous or completely banned...yet we consider our condition one of persecution, even while we still free.
Why do we feel this way? I think it is grief. Christians are grieving the loss of preeminence of the Christian faith in this country. We are grieving the fact that we have to share public space with other religions--in reality, not just in theory. Christians are used to having people in authority instruct us on when and how to pray. We are used to having officials pray for us. Now that these officials cannot pray because of mixed crowds, we forget that we can still pray. We forget that our prayers are just as powerful, I would say even more powerful, when we do it in faith and piety, rather than an official leading us. (And let us remember that much of the time the officials I am referring to are NOT religious officials, but public officials. Religious officials also have complete freedom to pray on behalf of the faithful in public---even at public events such as Memorial Day gatherings, baccalaureate services, and churches. Yes, churches are public spaces.)
I must be clear here. I am not just saying that we are free to pray individually and in private. We are also--right now--free to pray in public and in groups. Yet that freedom is, and I believe must be, weighed against the core American value of freedom of religion. It is wrong for public officials to make any religion the presupposed norm by forcing a particular kind of prayer upon a particular group, when that group may represent other religions or no religion at all. A president can ask the nation to pray, but the president should not become the priest or priestess.
I recently led a Bible study with some church members on the book of Daniel. The whole book explores the difficulties of being faithful in religious practice in the midst of a nation that puts no value in religious freedom. More than once, Daniel (or his fellow Jews) are told how and to whom to pray by the Babylonian Emperor. They refuse and are sentenced to death. Read the book to see how that turns out.
Anyway, in conversation about the book of Daniel, one person shared an experience at work. This person works for a major regional employer, and shared how that employer had set aside a particular room at one of their facilities for Muslims to pray. Followers of Islam are required to pray five times a day. Muslim employees voiced their need for a place to fulfill this spiritual duty while at work. Something like this can only happen in a nation whose value is religious freedom. The one who shared this story seemed to admire the faith and discipline of the muslim co-workers. And yet, this Christian church member didn't quite know what to make of the whole thing.
Many Americans Christians see public space being carved out for Muslims to express their faith and react with xenophobia or jealousy. But there are at least two much more positive and helpful ways to react to Muslim prayer chapels at work--and every American can fit into one or both of these:
First, we can be proud of our values and rejoice in our freedoms. We live in a nation where a group of people can voice a religious need or desire, and change can happen. We live in a nation that protects the rights of her citizens to not just believe a particular religion, but also to practice that religion. Such a society is not often seen on this earth. Look at what we have built.
Second, we--and here I mean Christians in particular--we Christians can react with renewed energy to practice what we believe. Muslims are required to pray five times a day. What are Christians required to do? How do those spiritual disciplines alter the way you live? What do you need in and from a free society in order to be faithful Christians? Do those things. Plenty of public and private institutions have Christian Chapels...are they being used? You see, Christian parents can influence their school districts in such a way that those schools no longer schedule required activities on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. All it takes is the people to voice their need and desire. If that voice is clear, change will happen...because we live in a nation of religious freedom.
The basic and crucial Christian discipline is going to church. When we take stock of which institutions are infringing upon that duty, we quickly see that the government is not the party responsible for inhibiting the religious liberty of Christians. I am not sure the government does anything on Sunday mornings. Even the military, and other government agencies that must operate 24-7, work hard to give their people the chance to worship if they so desire (and as they so desire). Government agencies even observe, or at least respect as far as possible, various holidays in various religions. Yet, our schools hold extracurriculars on Sundays. Yet, youth in school sports are punished if they choose to miss practice or a game because of worship or a church event. Yet, our employers see Sundays as another work day, and do not even respect the perfectly secular idea of what a weekend is and should be (for we all need rest from our labors). Yet, stores and businesses do not close down, not even on the major Holy Days (holidays). Why not? These institutions are not the bad guys. Schools, employers, and businesses are not evil, nor do they intend on taking away religious liberty. No, these organizations are simply responding to the will and desire of the faithful. We have given up these liberties through our own habits. And these freedoms can only be restored by the will and voice of the people. Christians would be served by becoming more organized, and more passionate about their own faith and its practices. The government isn't going to will it for us, isn't going to believe it for us, and isn't going to do it for us. Indeed, the U.S. government shouldn't be the source or the disciplinarian of the Christian faith.
Perhaps Christians are being persecuted in the United States. Before we can figure out the truth of that question, though, we need to exercise the freedoms we do have. Christians have a great deal of freedom in this country. What I most often see, however, is a lack of desire in Christians to exercise those freedoms. We have the freedom, just not the will or the work. Shouldn't we use what we have before we start demanding more?
In any case, Jesus is present in our very midst, reminding us about our need to pray always and not to lose heart...even if and when we endure injustice. Luke 18:1-8 Thanks be to God for that reminder. Amen.
The above quote is both dated and harsh. Dated because in Soren's day freedom of speech was evidently not a thing in Denmark. Today, freedom of speech is an important--and core--value in democratic nations, like the United States. I think it is a good value to maintain and protect. And Kierkegaard's biting wit is harsh, but perhaps in a helpful way. The point of the quote seems to hold true today. I distill the following lesson: "We rarely exercise the freedoms we have before we go out seeking more." When this is the case, I believe that the sought after "more" or "new freedom" is often really a grab for power or dominance or preeminence...but that is another blog.
When thinking about religious freedom in the United States of America, prayer becomes a good litmus test. Curiously, the only segment of Christianity that pays attention to this litmus test is that on the righthand side of the political spectrum. Many faithful Christians worry over--and speak out about--Christian prayer in public place. Most notably, prayer in public schools. The rhetoric is pervasive: the government refuses to allow our young people to pray, and this is destroying the faith and the moral fabric of our nation. The ban on prayer in public schools is seen as an infringement on not just Christianity, but on our nation's core value of religious liberty itself.
And yet, Christians are, indeed, free to pray in this country--and in public! I often pray out-loud, and even loudly, before meals in restaurants. I pray out-loud and noticeably in hospital waiting rooms, work places, stores, parks, jails, schools and courthouses. No one has locked me up. Bakers will still sell me cakes. Now, these prayers are almost always said with a small group of people, and I am not given the authority of the government to speak for all who are present. I pray for and with the ones who--in freedom--decide to participate for themselves. This is crucial, as it is much different than a judge or a teacher (as government officials or employees) praying in a Christian way from a position of power.
Our children can pray at school, especially if we take St. Paul's exhortation seriously: "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (see 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18). A student has freedom to pray before a test. Students have the freedom to circle up and pray in public between the bus and the school building--or even, if it doesn't disrupt the work they must do, in the classroom or cafeteria or playground. Such freedom we have already is no small thing. There are yet places in the world that any open or noticeable Christian prayer is met with imprisonment, violence, or death. In many countries, church attendance is dangerous or completely banned...yet we consider our condition one of persecution, even while we still free.
Why do we feel this way? I think it is grief. Christians are grieving the loss of preeminence of the Christian faith in this country. We are grieving the fact that we have to share public space with other religions--in reality, not just in theory. Christians are used to having people in authority instruct us on when and how to pray. We are used to having officials pray for us. Now that these officials cannot pray because of mixed crowds, we forget that we can still pray. We forget that our prayers are just as powerful, I would say even more powerful, when we do it in faith and piety, rather than an official leading us. (And let us remember that much of the time the officials I am referring to are NOT religious officials, but public officials. Religious officials also have complete freedom to pray on behalf of the faithful in public---even at public events such as Memorial Day gatherings, baccalaureate services, and churches. Yes, churches are public spaces.)
I must be clear here. I am not just saying that we are free to pray individually and in private. We are also--right now--free to pray in public and in groups. Yet that freedom is, and I believe must be, weighed against the core American value of freedom of religion. It is wrong for public officials to make any religion the presupposed norm by forcing a particular kind of prayer upon a particular group, when that group may represent other religions or no religion at all. A president can ask the nation to pray, but the president should not become the priest or priestess.
I recently led a Bible study with some church members on the book of Daniel. The whole book explores the difficulties of being faithful in religious practice in the midst of a nation that puts no value in religious freedom. More than once, Daniel (or his fellow Jews) are told how and to whom to pray by the Babylonian Emperor. They refuse and are sentenced to death. Read the book to see how that turns out.
Anyway, in conversation about the book of Daniel, one person shared an experience at work. This person works for a major regional employer, and shared how that employer had set aside a particular room at one of their facilities for Muslims to pray. Followers of Islam are required to pray five times a day. Muslim employees voiced their need for a place to fulfill this spiritual duty while at work. Something like this can only happen in a nation whose value is religious freedom. The one who shared this story seemed to admire the faith and discipline of the muslim co-workers. And yet, this Christian church member didn't quite know what to make of the whole thing.
Many Americans Christians see public space being carved out for Muslims to express their faith and react with xenophobia or jealousy. But there are at least two much more positive and helpful ways to react to Muslim prayer chapels at work--and every American can fit into one or both of these:
First, we can be proud of our values and rejoice in our freedoms. We live in a nation where a group of people can voice a religious need or desire, and change can happen. We live in a nation that protects the rights of her citizens to not just believe a particular religion, but also to practice that religion. Such a society is not often seen on this earth. Look at what we have built.
Second, we--and here I mean Christians in particular--we Christians can react with renewed energy to practice what we believe. Muslims are required to pray five times a day. What are Christians required to do? How do those spiritual disciplines alter the way you live? What do you need in and from a free society in order to be faithful Christians? Do those things. Plenty of public and private institutions have Christian Chapels...are they being used? You see, Christian parents can influence their school districts in such a way that those schools no longer schedule required activities on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. All it takes is the people to voice their need and desire. If that voice is clear, change will happen...because we live in a nation of religious freedom.
The basic and crucial Christian discipline is going to church. When we take stock of which institutions are infringing upon that duty, we quickly see that the government is not the party responsible for inhibiting the religious liberty of Christians. I am not sure the government does anything on Sunday mornings. Even the military, and other government agencies that must operate 24-7, work hard to give their people the chance to worship if they so desire (and as they so desire). Government agencies even observe, or at least respect as far as possible, various holidays in various religions. Yet, our schools hold extracurriculars on Sundays. Yet, youth in school sports are punished if they choose to miss practice or a game because of worship or a church event. Yet, our employers see Sundays as another work day, and do not even respect the perfectly secular idea of what a weekend is and should be (for we all need rest from our labors). Yet, stores and businesses do not close down, not even on the major Holy Days (holidays). Why not? These institutions are not the bad guys. Schools, employers, and businesses are not evil, nor do they intend on taking away religious liberty. No, these organizations are simply responding to the will and desire of the faithful. We have given up these liberties through our own habits. And these freedoms can only be restored by the will and voice of the people. Christians would be served by becoming more organized, and more passionate about their own faith and its practices. The government isn't going to will it for us, isn't going to believe it for us, and isn't going to do it for us. Indeed, the U.S. government shouldn't be the source or the disciplinarian of the Christian faith.
Perhaps Christians are being persecuted in the United States. Before we can figure out the truth of that question, though, we need to exercise the freedoms we do have. Christians have a great deal of freedom in this country. What I most often see, however, is a lack of desire in Christians to exercise those freedoms. We have the freedom, just not the will or the work. Shouldn't we use what we have before we start demanding more?
In any case, Jesus is present in our very midst, reminding us about our need to pray always and not to lose heart...even if and when we endure injustice. Luke 18:1-8 Thanks be to God for that reminder. Amen.
Thursday, April 23, 2015
See the Wounds
During the season of Easter, we scramble to find the risen Christ. It was no easier for the disciples 2,000 years ago. For although they had Jesus with them bodily (both before and after the cross), they found it difficult to see Jesus.
Like the disciples, on Easter Day we went to the tomb expecting to find Jesus there, and we were told: "He is not here." Taken down from the Cross, Jesus is no longer affixed there. He is not in the tomb where we laid him. He is not parading into Jerusalem to take his throne, like we expected after Palm Sunday. So where is Jesus? Where do we find Jesus--how do we find him?
It all depends on what we see when we look. Look at what? When we look at anything. To be more specific, it depends on the evidence for which we are looking. Are we looking for evidence of what is seen, or evidence of what is unseen?
One of the ultimate Christian paradoxes is that God uses what is seen to reveal--to show--what cannot be seen. God, who is always hidden, is revealed in mystery. The traces of God are teased out through the contradictions of life. And the indescribable truths are understood through experience, even if they remain indescribable.
As you go through life, what evidence of God are you looking for?
Jesus proved God's presence and power by showing the disciples his wounds. The bright light and glorious angel-messengers on Easter only served to scare the disciples and stop them from sharing the gospel. But when Jesus finally appeared after being raised, he met them quietly. And the proof of his identity was not lightening or voices from heaven, the evidence he brought were wounds.
What do you see when you see wounds?
What do you see when you visit someone who is sick in the hospital? What do you see in the person who is losing their mind and personality in dementia? What do you see in the soldier who has lost limb, or even life, in the course of service? What do you see in the patient in traction because of a car accident? What do you see in the stroke victim? What do you see when a child skins his or her knee? What do you see as you sit beside a loved one's deathbed?
If we cannot find Jesus in these things, we cannot find Jesus anywhere.
Jesus' presence is in the hurt. Jesus' power is in the healing. God's love and power is strongest in the midst of wounds and death.
Because of Christ, there is only one illness or injury that is fatal. "Really?"--you may be asking. "People seem to die of many things." That may be what we see, but it is not what is going on unseen.
If the illness is slight, Jesus is the one who empowers our bodies or minds to heal. If the wound is great, it is the Holy Spirit who calls forth medicine and causes it to be an effective intervention. And if the illness or injury leads to death, our Father is the one who imparts life anyway. None of these results in ultimate death. There is no sickness that is unto death.
Once, Jesus' friend Lazarus got really sick. When Jesus heard of Lazarus' illness, he did not rush to heal him, but told his disciples that, "this sickness is not unto death" (John 11:4). After suffering for days, Lazarus finally died. Jesus wept when he heard the news, and yet he proclaimed that the sickness was not unto death, and told Martha, "Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live" (John 11:25). Death was not unto death. But the disciples did not see, did not understand what Jesus meant by this paradox, by this mystery. Jesus raised Lazarus from the grave. He did it to reveal the power of God. But even when the crowd saw Jesus do it, and heard him repeat over and over again that he was doing it to reveal the unseen (John 11: 4, 15, 42), even then the crowd assumed that Lazarus was just unconscious, that he was never really dead. They could not even believe when Jesus made it seen.
Soren Kierkegaard wrote a whole book trying to fuss out the unseen in that story about the death of Lazarus (the title of the book: The Sickness Unto Death). And taking Jesus words as truth, Kierkegaard came to the conclusion that the only sickness unto death is despair. In faith, Jesus' power is proven in injury, sickness, and death. In despair, it is impossible to trust in what is unseen, and our lives are then consumed by what is only seen.
Jesus was wounded to indicate where Jesus is when we are wounded. Jesus died so that we might be able to trust God's presence even in death. Jesus was raised up so that we would be able to see what is going to happen to us when we die. Jesus is the evidence of God at work. Jesus makes seen what was formerly unseeable. But even when we see the unseen, it is difficult to trust, and it is still so easy to despair! When you see wounds and sickness and death, what do you see? Do you believe?
God's most glorious appearance in the world is the Cross. And if the resurrection had any glory in it, it was only because the Cross happened. And so the heavy crosses you bear are not occasions of despair, they are indications of all that is yet unseen.
This short prayer was the epigraph of Kierkegaard's book, The Sickness unto Death. It sets up the true theme of the book, and yet Kierkegaard doesn't use "seen" or "unseen" or "sight" at any other part of the book itself:
"Lord, give us weak eyes for things of little worth, and eyes clear-sighted in all of your truth."
What is seen does give us cause for despair. But if we despair, we die spiritually and ultimately.
What is unseen in the midst of what is seen, gives us hope and cause for thanksgiving---if we believe what is unseen. The gospel, or rather Jesus, gives evidence for the unseen. Therefore, faith is possible.
In faith, everything is ours... all that is, seen and unseen.
THANKS BE.
Like the disciples, on Easter Day we went to the tomb expecting to find Jesus there, and we were told: "He is not here." Taken down from the Cross, Jesus is no longer affixed there. He is not in the tomb where we laid him. He is not parading into Jerusalem to take his throne, like we expected after Palm Sunday. So where is Jesus? Where do we find Jesus--how do we find him?
It all depends on what we see when we look. Look at what? When we look at anything. To be more specific, it depends on the evidence for which we are looking. Are we looking for evidence of what is seen, or evidence of what is unseen?
One of the ultimate Christian paradoxes is that God uses what is seen to reveal--to show--what cannot be seen. God, who is always hidden, is revealed in mystery. The traces of God are teased out through the contradictions of life. And the indescribable truths are understood through experience, even if they remain indescribable.
As you go through life, what evidence of God are you looking for?
Jesus proved God's presence and power by showing the disciples his wounds. The bright light and glorious angel-messengers on Easter only served to scare the disciples and stop them from sharing the gospel. But when Jesus finally appeared after being raised, he met them quietly. And the proof of his identity was not lightening or voices from heaven, the evidence he brought were wounds.
What do you see when you see wounds?
What do you see when you visit someone who is sick in the hospital? What do you see in the person who is losing their mind and personality in dementia? What do you see in the soldier who has lost limb, or even life, in the course of service? What do you see in the patient in traction because of a car accident? What do you see in the stroke victim? What do you see when a child skins his or her knee? What do you see as you sit beside a loved one's deathbed?
If we cannot find Jesus in these things, we cannot find Jesus anywhere.
Jesus' presence is in the hurt. Jesus' power is in the healing. God's love and power is strongest in the midst of wounds and death.
Because of Christ, there is only one illness or injury that is fatal. "Really?"--you may be asking. "People seem to die of many things." That may be what we see, but it is not what is going on unseen.
If the illness is slight, Jesus is the one who empowers our bodies or minds to heal. If the wound is great, it is the Holy Spirit who calls forth medicine and causes it to be an effective intervention. And if the illness or injury leads to death, our Father is the one who imparts life anyway. None of these results in ultimate death. There is no sickness that is unto death.
Once, Jesus' friend Lazarus got really sick. When Jesus heard of Lazarus' illness, he did not rush to heal him, but told his disciples that, "this sickness is not unto death" (John 11:4). After suffering for days, Lazarus finally died. Jesus wept when he heard the news, and yet he proclaimed that the sickness was not unto death, and told Martha, "Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live" (John 11:25). Death was not unto death. But the disciples did not see, did not understand what Jesus meant by this paradox, by this mystery. Jesus raised Lazarus from the grave. He did it to reveal the power of God. But even when the crowd saw Jesus do it, and heard him repeat over and over again that he was doing it to reveal the unseen (John 11: 4, 15, 42), even then the crowd assumed that Lazarus was just unconscious, that he was never really dead. They could not even believe when Jesus made it seen.
Soren Kierkegaard wrote a whole book trying to fuss out the unseen in that story about the death of Lazarus (the title of the book: The Sickness Unto Death). And taking Jesus words as truth, Kierkegaard came to the conclusion that the only sickness unto death is despair. In faith, Jesus' power is proven in injury, sickness, and death. In despair, it is impossible to trust in what is unseen, and our lives are then consumed by what is only seen.
Jesus was wounded to indicate where Jesus is when we are wounded. Jesus died so that we might be able to trust God's presence even in death. Jesus was raised up so that we would be able to see what is going to happen to us when we die. Jesus is the evidence of God at work. Jesus makes seen what was formerly unseeable. But even when we see the unseen, it is difficult to trust, and it is still so easy to despair! When you see wounds and sickness and death, what do you see? Do you believe?
God's most glorious appearance in the world is the Cross. And if the resurrection had any glory in it, it was only because the Cross happened. And so the heavy crosses you bear are not occasions of despair, they are indications of all that is yet unseen.
This short prayer was the epigraph of Kierkegaard's book, The Sickness unto Death. It sets up the true theme of the book, and yet Kierkegaard doesn't use "seen" or "unseen" or "sight" at any other part of the book itself:
What is seen does give us cause for despair. But if we despair, we die spiritually and ultimately.
What is unseen in the midst of what is seen, gives us hope and cause for thanksgiving---if we believe what is unseen. The gospel, or rather Jesus, gives evidence for the unseen. Therefore, faith is possible.
In faith, everything is ours... all that is, seen and unseen.
THANKS BE.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Last Meal
Recently, on FaceBook, I saw a link to an artist's series of photographs of the last meals ordered by notorious criminals before they were executed by the state for their crimes.
You can take a look, too: http://www.buzzfeed.com/alanwhite/12-pictures-of-death-row-prisoners-last-meals#.mt1edMPoVz
I can't help but think that this tradition of the death row last meal is linked to Jesus' story, the story of Holy Week. We remember on Maundy Thursday that on the night of Jesus' betrayal and incarceration--the night before he was executed--he shared a final meal with his disciples. Perhaps our Western culture adopted last meal from the Christian scriptures in a desire to show some small mercy, some final small sign of grace, to condemned prisoners. I don't know if such a link or etiology is true, and so I speak on it now without authority.
An inmate's last supper is not simply a courtesy, but a reminder of and link to Christ. As the scripture says, "But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you have been saved..." (Ephesians 2:4-5). Though it seems such a small gesture, the last meal can be a powerful reminder that Jesus has given sinners and criminals his own body and blood to eat and drink. The last free choice a death row inmate makes is what to have for a last meal. And one meal is all they get for their death. It feels paltry and can even perhaps be felt as an insult or a joke. Yet, though the kindness is small, God's work in it is potentially great. For the last meal echoes the Last Supper and we hear the reverberations: "Then he took a cup...saying, 'Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins" (Matthew 26:28) and again, "...'Do this...in remembrance of me.' For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes" (1 Corinthians 11:25b-26).
But just as with so many of our powerful symbols, the last meal pales in comparison with the truth. The point of Jesus' last meal was not just the food, but what the food did and what the food--the meal--was doing even in that moment and continues to do across time whenever we remember or do likewise. The point was Communion, and it was, indeed, and continues to be holy. That is what the death row inmate is denied: eating the meal with their closest friends and family.
Before his trial and death, Jesus sat with the disciples. They ate; they drank; they shared life; they talked and laughed; they worried and mourned; they remembered the successes and defeats of their ancestors; they remarked on God's presence and work among them. Whatever tomorrow would bring, these people bonded in a community that night. Then, miraculously, Jesus--in that very meal--took a human community and made it a holy communion. Through Jesus, they would bond in the breaking of the bread, and they would be caught up in the pouring out of wine. From that day forward they would eat not just bread alone, but the Son of God. And in the eating, they would be unified with God and each other in bonds invisible and unbreakable.
We see the death-row inmate eat alone. But this is false. Jesus is always present at the last supper, whether it is eaten by the righteous or the sinner. And if Jesus is present, then the whole Church must be as well. Because you don't get to choose the communion, Jesus does.
This Gospel poses a problem and a scandal. I despise the idea that Jesus would condescend, would lower himself, by sitting with an abuser or murderer or rapist. How much more offensive to think that he eats with them, let alone forgives them or loves them! I struggle with the thought that he died for them. And yet the Innocent One died for the sins of humanity, we are told. What use would a savior be if he or she only wiped clean the white lies or merely things like grand theft? We require a more powerful savior than that, I think. But what a two edged sword this more powerful savior is! How painful when the Savior cuts away our sin, our sensibilities are sliced and our ability to forgive is dissected for inspection. But having a God who is unchangeable means that no matter what happens, no matter what we do, our relationship with God need not change. The Cross is proof that the steadfast love of God endures forever.
Do not mistake me--or the Gospel. I am not saying let all the prisoners go free and free of consequence. I am not even saying that the death penalty should be abolished--that message doesn't help the one having their last meal this very day. No. There are consequences in this world. When I refuse to put on my jacket when my mother tells me to, I will suffer the cold. My mother will eventually forgive me for not doing what she said, but that won't change the fact that I will be cold. If I commit adultery, my wife may forgive me, but that doesn't mean that our marriage will survive, or if it does survive it certainly will be forever changed because of my actions. When we sin in this world, we must face the worldly consequences. But with God, forgiveness is pardon. The consequences of our sins have become the Cross...and someone else took on those consequences so that we wouldn't lose our inheritance. And as hard as it is, Jesus died on the cross taking up all the sins of the world. Not just my little, forgivable sins, but also the enemy's major and unforgivable ones. I don't like it, but marvel at the power of such a Savior.
We say that Jesus died for the sinner, that Jesus (who knew no sin) took on the sins of others and died for it. We say that on the Cross, Jesus destroyed sin and death. But how many believe what is said? Until we can see the Last Supper in the last meal.... No. Until we can see Jesus in and through the guilty inmate sentenced to die, we haven't fully appreciated the gift we have all been give. Until we can bear to image God present on death row or in the injection chamber, we do not know the power of God--we do not appreciate the lengths God with go for love. Until we feel the profound unity that comes with Holy Communion, we cannot appreciate the Resurrection.
Each of us is walking a row that leads to death. At any time, our daily bread may turn out to be our last supper. Yet every bite and every sip stand as a reminder of the Holy Meal, the Holy One who brings life. And Holy Communion brings us Jesus Christ, who unites us together with our immortal and all-mighty God.
Today, we pray for the imprisoned, and for those facing execution, whether they are innocent or guilty---because Jesus was imprisoned and faced execution. And because Jesus lived and died for the ones who live it. Today, we pray for those who are ordering their last supper, that Jesus be present at that table and drink of the same cup. For by Jesus' presence sin is turned to righteousness and death is turned to life.
On the Cross, Jesus gathers ALL people to himself. And through his body and blood he makes ALL people one. And in Holy Communion, we all get a new "life on the outside."
What blessed joy is ours in such grace.
You can take a look, too: http://www.buzzfeed.com/alanwhite/12-pictures-of-death-row-prisoners-last-meals#.mt1edMPoVz
I can't help but think that this tradition of the death row last meal is linked to Jesus' story, the story of Holy Week. We remember on Maundy Thursday that on the night of Jesus' betrayal and incarceration--the night before he was executed--he shared a final meal with his disciples. Perhaps our Western culture adopted last meal from the Christian scriptures in a desire to show some small mercy, some final small sign of grace, to condemned prisoners. I don't know if such a link or etiology is true, and so I speak on it now without authority.
An inmate's last supper is not simply a courtesy, but a reminder of and link to Christ. As the scripture says, "But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you have been saved..." (Ephesians 2:4-5). Though it seems such a small gesture, the last meal can be a powerful reminder that Jesus has given sinners and criminals his own body and blood to eat and drink. The last free choice a death row inmate makes is what to have for a last meal. And one meal is all they get for their death. It feels paltry and can even perhaps be felt as an insult or a joke. Yet, though the kindness is small, God's work in it is potentially great. For the last meal echoes the Last Supper and we hear the reverberations: "Then he took a cup...saying, 'Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins" (Matthew 26:28) and again, "...'Do this...in remembrance of me.' For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes" (1 Corinthians 11:25b-26).
But just as with so many of our powerful symbols, the last meal pales in comparison with the truth. The point of Jesus' last meal was not just the food, but what the food did and what the food--the meal--was doing even in that moment and continues to do across time whenever we remember or do likewise. The point was Communion, and it was, indeed, and continues to be holy. That is what the death row inmate is denied: eating the meal with their closest friends and family.
Before his trial and death, Jesus sat with the disciples. They ate; they drank; they shared life; they talked and laughed; they worried and mourned; they remembered the successes and defeats of their ancestors; they remarked on God's presence and work among them. Whatever tomorrow would bring, these people bonded in a community that night. Then, miraculously, Jesus--in that very meal--took a human community and made it a holy communion. Through Jesus, they would bond in the breaking of the bread, and they would be caught up in the pouring out of wine. From that day forward they would eat not just bread alone, but the Son of God. And in the eating, they would be unified with God and each other in bonds invisible and unbreakable.
We see the death-row inmate eat alone. But this is false. Jesus is always present at the last supper, whether it is eaten by the righteous or the sinner. And if Jesus is present, then the whole Church must be as well. Because you don't get to choose the communion, Jesus does.
This Gospel poses a problem and a scandal. I despise the idea that Jesus would condescend, would lower himself, by sitting with an abuser or murderer or rapist. How much more offensive to think that he eats with them, let alone forgives them or loves them! I struggle with the thought that he died for them. And yet the Innocent One died for the sins of humanity, we are told. What use would a savior be if he or she only wiped clean the white lies or merely things like grand theft? We require a more powerful savior than that, I think. But what a two edged sword this more powerful savior is! How painful when the Savior cuts away our sin, our sensibilities are sliced and our ability to forgive is dissected for inspection. But having a God who is unchangeable means that no matter what happens, no matter what we do, our relationship with God need not change. The Cross is proof that the steadfast love of God endures forever.
Do not mistake me--or the Gospel. I am not saying let all the prisoners go free and free of consequence. I am not even saying that the death penalty should be abolished--that message doesn't help the one having their last meal this very day. No. There are consequences in this world. When I refuse to put on my jacket when my mother tells me to, I will suffer the cold. My mother will eventually forgive me for not doing what she said, but that won't change the fact that I will be cold. If I commit adultery, my wife may forgive me, but that doesn't mean that our marriage will survive, or if it does survive it certainly will be forever changed because of my actions. When we sin in this world, we must face the worldly consequences. But with God, forgiveness is pardon. The consequences of our sins have become the Cross...and someone else took on those consequences so that we wouldn't lose our inheritance. And as hard as it is, Jesus died on the cross taking up all the sins of the world. Not just my little, forgivable sins, but also the enemy's major and unforgivable ones. I don't like it, but marvel at the power of such a Savior.
We say that Jesus died for the sinner, that Jesus (who knew no sin) took on the sins of others and died for it. We say that on the Cross, Jesus destroyed sin and death. But how many believe what is said? Until we can see the Last Supper in the last meal.... No. Until we can see Jesus in and through the guilty inmate sentenced to die, we haven't fully appreciated the gift we have all been give. Until we can bear to image God present on death row or in the injection chamber, we do not know the power of God--we do not appreciate the lengths God with go for love. Until we feel the profound unity that comes with Holy Communion, we cannot appreciate the Resurrection.
Each of us is walking a row that leads to death. At any time, our daily bread may turn out to be our last supper. Yet every bite and every sip stand as a reminder of the Holy Meal, the Holy One who brings life. And Holy Communion brings us Jesus Christ, who unites us together with our immortal and all-mighty God.
Today, we pray for the imprisoned, and for those facing execution, whether they are innocent or guilty---because Jesus was imprisoned and faced execution. And because Jesus lived and died for the ones who live it. Today, we pray for those who are ordering their last supper, that Jesus be present at that table and drink of the same cup. For by Jesus' presence sin is turned to righteousness and death is turned to life.
On the Cross, Jesus gathers ALL people to himself. And through his body and blood he makes ALL people one. And in Holy Communion, we all get a new "life on the outside."
What blessed joy is ours in such grace.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
The Real Halloween
I love scary stories, including scary movies. I enjoy the catharsis that comes from fear that has a bottom--that is, fear I can lose myself in to the degree I choose because I know that through it all I am safe and that the things that scare me are fictional. Fear of this kind is so much better than the fear created around world events in the news, and I am certain it is healthier. Practicing fear can even empower us by teaching us how to control our fear. For fear, like worry, is merely something within us that we ultimately create from within.
Halloween is a time when we can openly play at fear to practice facing and overcoming it. And that is why one of my favorite holy days is Halloween.
But Halloween is only safe, the things that scare us are rendered toothless only because of the day that follows: All Saint's Day.
"Though hordes of devils fill the land
and threaten to devour us,
we tremble not, we trust God's will:
they cannot overpow'r us.
Though Satan rant and rage,
in fiercest war engage,
this tyrant's doomed to fail;
God's judgment must prevail!
One little word shall triumph."
- A Mighty Fortress, Verse 3
All Saint's Eve was a night on which it was thought that hordes of devils filled the land. People began donning scary costumes as protection. If you were dressed as a demon you could move around the world incognito. You wouldn't be possessed or abducted by a demon because you were one of them. Through this trickery, people protected themselves from evil spirits.
But why were demons thought to be so active on All Saint's Eve--on All Hallow's Eve or Halloween? Because of the day after. You see, when the sun comes up on November 1st, the light of all the saints breaks into the world of darkness and fear. On the day of saints, no evil can survive. It was thought that the demons knew--could feel--what was coming, that they were doomed. And so in a last-ditch effort, they would become hyperactive while the darkness lasted. To no avail.
All Saint's Day commemorates just that: all the saints. Before the Reformation, that meant only those of the faithful who were beatified and canonized as "Saint." After the Reformation, the Church began to understand that the category "saint" was a bit more expansive. Luther said that all the faithful are saints (and at the same time sinners, lest we forget). Today in the Church, we particularly consider those who have died to be saints. And according to the book of Hebrews, the saints who have died are a "great cloud of witnesses" to Jesus, who surround us always. On All Saint's Day, the power of that communion is overwhelming.
On the Day of All Saints, many churches remember, and speak the names of, those who have died in the past year. This morning, I have been reflecting on those who have died in my life. Friends, those of the Beloved Community here in Toluca and back home, and countless Beloved Strangers around the world. And even as I remember them, each one, and I grieve, that sorrow gives way to joy. Why? Many imagine death to be cold and dark. This is why it is so comforting to hear stories of near-death experiences in which people see a bright light. Remembering the saints, we remember the good news--that death is actually warm and bright. How is cold, dark death changed into the warmth of day, into the brightness of a new morning?
"But now a champion comes to fight,
whom God himself elected.
You ask who this may be?
Christ Jesus, it is he,
the Lord of hosts by name,
No other God we claim!
He holds the field victorious."
- A Mighty Fortress, Verse 2
Jesus.
Just as in the stories of vampires and exorcisms, the Cross of Christ is our most powerful weapon against all that we fear. The cross was a turning point, the turning point from night to day. The field Jesus held was the hill at Calvary. And on that field, at the foot of the Cross, sin is turned to righteousness, despair is turned to faith, suffering is turned to comfort, sorrow is turned to joy, crying is turned to dancing, and death is turned to life. Yes, all of that--and more. The Cross is our ending and our beginning. The Cross is Jesus' defeat and Christ's victory. The Cross makes the communion of saints possible. More precisely, the One who breaks the darkness is the one who vanquishes the hordes of devils and establishes the great cloud of witnesses.
We find God and his Christ in suffering and death. Not causing these things, but striving against them. "[F]or God himself fights by our side" (A Mighty Fortress, Verse 4). And so all those devils cavorting on Halloween, trying to get in their last bit of mischief and evil, are sorely mistaken. They are not left to their own devices on the Eve of All Saint's. Evil is not its most powerful on Halloween, as the pagans would like to believe. No. Just as Jesus was most present and active on the Cross--in suffering and death, so Jesus is most present and active in the darkest night, in the midst of the most dreadful evil. The dread of Halloween can only give way to the new, bright Day of Saints because of Jesus. Therefore, Jesus works hardest and his presence is most evident in the night of Halloween. The same is true in your life. When you endure hardship or sorrow or suffering or evil of any kind, that is precisely when Jesus is the strongest within and around you.
And so, as the man said, "Do not be afraid."
"Were they to take our house,
goods, honor, child or spouse,
though life be wrenched away,
they cannot win the day.
The Kingdom's ours forever!"
- A Mighty Fortress, Verse 4
Jesus makes this true.
Thanks be to God for that. Amen.
Halloween is a time when we can openly play at fear to practice facing and overcoming it. And that is why one of my favorite holy days is Halloween.
But Halloween is only safe, the things that scare us are rendered toothless only because of the day that follows: All Saint's Day.
"Though hordes of devils fill the land
and threaten to devour us,
we tremble not, we trust God's will:
they cannot overpow'r us.
Though Satan rant and rage,
in fiercest war engage,
this tyrant's doomed to fail;
God's judgment must prevail!
One little word shall triumph."
- A Mighty Fortress, Verse 3
All Saint's Eve was a night on which it was thought that hordes of devils filled the land. People began donning scary costumes as protection. If you were dressed as a demon you could move around the world incognito. You wouldn't be possessed or abducted by a demon because you were one of them. Through this trickery, people protected themselves from evil spirits.
But why were demons thought to be so active on All Saint's Eve--on All Hallow's Eve or Halloween? Because of the day after. You see, when the sun comes up on November 1st, the light of all the saints breaks into the world of darkness and fear. On the day of saints, no evil can survive. It was thought that the demons knew--could feel--what was coming, that they were doomed. And so in a last-ditch effort, they would become hyperactive while the darkness lasted. To no avail.
All Saint's Day commemorates just that: all the saints. Before the Reformation, that meant only those of the faithful who were beatified and canonized as "Saint." After the Reformation, the Church began to understand that the category "saint" was a bit more expansive. Luther said that all the faithful are saints (and at the same time sinners, lest we forget). Today in the Church, we particularly consider those who have died to be saints. And according to the book of Hebrews, the saints who have died are a "great cloud of witnesses" to Jesus, who surround us always. On All Saint's Day, the power of that communion is overwhelming.
On the Day of All Saints, many churches remember, and speak the names of, those who have died in the past year. This morning, I have been reflecting on those who have died in my life. Friends, those of the Beloved Community here in Toluca and back home, and countless Beloved Strangers around the world. And even as I remember them, each one, and I grieve, that sorrow gives way to joy. Why? Many imagine death to be cold and dark. This is why it is so comforting to hear stories of near-death experiences in which people see a bright light. Remembering the saints, we remember the good news--that death is actually warm and bright. How is cold, dark death changed into the warmth of day, into the brightness of a new morning?
"But now a champion comes to fight,
whom God himself elected.
You ask who this may be?
Christ Jesus, it is he,
the Lord of hosts by name,
No other God we claim!
He holds the field victorious."
- A Mighty Fortress, Verse 2
Jesus.
Just as in the stories of vampires and exorcisms, the Cross of Christ is our most powerful weapon against all that we fear. The cross was a turning point, the turning point from night to day. The field Jesus held was the hill at Calvary. And on that field, at the foot of the Cross, sin is turned to righteousness, despair is turned to faith, suffering is turned to comfort, sorrow is turned to joy, crying is turned to dancing, and death is turned to life. Yes, all of that--and more. The Cross is our ending and our beginning. The Cross is Jesus' defeat and Christ's victory. The Cross makes the communion of saints possible. More precisely, the One who breaks the darkness is the one who vanquishes the hordes of devils and establishes the great cloud of witnesses.
We find God and his Christ in suffering and death. Not causing these things, but striving against them. "[F]or God himself fights by our side" (A Mighty Fortress, Verse 4). And so all those devils cavorting on Halloween, trying to get in their last bit of mischief and evil, are sorely mistaken. They are not left to their own devices on the Eve of All Saint's. Evil is not its most powerful on Halloween, as the pagans would like to believe. No. Just as Jesus was most present and active on the Cross--in suffering and death, so Jesus is most present and active in the darkest night, in the midst of the most dreadful evil. The dread of Halloween can only give way to the new, bright Day of Saints because of Jesus. Therefore, Jesus works hardest and his presence is most evident in the night of Halloween. The same is true in your life. When you endure hardship or sorrow or suffering or evil of any kind, that is precisely when Jesus is the strongest within and around you.
And so, as the man said, "Do not be afraid."
"Were they to take our house,
goods, honor, child or spouse,
though life be wrenched away,
they cannot win the day.
The Kingdom's ours forever!"
- A Mighty Fortress, Verse 4
Jesus makes this true.
Thanks be to God for that. Amen.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Walking Dead: Community
A couple years ago, I got into the show The Walking Dead. It is an AMC show I found on Netflix, and recently the newest season became available on that site. I am a sucker for supernatural horror and post-apocalyptic stories--especially ones with zombies. George Romero's entire series of zombie movies were not only genre-creating, but also dealt with a lot of existential issues. The Walking Dead is no less profound...and entertaining.
The Walking Dead, based on a series of graphic novels of the same name, chronicles the experiences of a band of humans striving to survive after an unknown event causes masses of people to turn into flesh-eating, reanimated corpses. If a "walker" bites you, you turn into one yourself. When you die, however you die, you turn into a walker--there is no escape. Walkers are only subdued by fatally injuring the brain. But walkers are not the only threat in this fallen society. Other humans, also trying to survive, are also as easily the enemy as the walkers are. You don't know if someone you meet will steal your food, water or shelter, or if they will leave you alone, or if they will work with you to survive.
The premise of the show, as well as the "rules" of the world to which it transports us, are not very different from those of Romero's ground-breaking movies. What makes The Walking Dead unique and enthralling is that it is an extended immersion into the post-apocalyptic world of zombies. One common major theme of both, which I would like to explore a bit here, is the theme of unity.
In the show, no one can survive alone. People need each other. Survival requires working together toward common goals--acquiring food & water, protection, etc. Community is the key, cooperation.
And yet, in the show we find two different types of unity. The good, life-saving and life-giving community created by our heroes is held in sharp relief by the ever-present background of the mindless zombie mob. Yes, the zombies symbolize community as well, a unity of a very different, and horrifying kind.
Now, the zombies don't have a social structure, and they do not cooperate, per se. However, just as with human survivors, the zombies' strength is in numbers. When a walker is caught alone, it is easily dispatched, relatively speaking. Meanwhile, when they are in groups, particularly large groups, as they often are found, then they are an unstoppable force. The press of the undead overwhelms all defenses, intrudes upon all sanctuaries, renders ineffectual all attempted offenses. When alone, the zombie's sole motivation is to consume--consume you! And when a group of zombies gather, they are united in that one, selfish goal--to consume. Therein lies their community. One unifying goal. True, each individual zombie is motivated only to feed itself, yet that one goal unites them. Mindless and accidental as it may be, this behavior does constitute a community of sorts.
At our worst, we are a zombie culture.
We are consumers in a consumer society. The average American (one person) produces 4.4 pounds of garbage a day, according to the EPA. This does not include the industrial and commercial waste created to create the stuff we buy, or the waste produced by the efforts to get that stuff from the industrial site to our homes. On black Friday, our culture's high holy festival, which boasts the highest worship attendance of any other single day of the year, is marked by mobs pressing against merchant doors, flooding into every nook and cranny of commercial space. In 2013, Black Friday sales averaged $13,293,981 per minute...over 13 million dollars PER MINUTE. Our mediums of communication, art, and entertainment cannot exist apart from commercials. When we face economic hardship as a nation, we are exhorted to buy more in order to solve the problem...and that probably is the only solution because it is a consumer culture. We are attracted to the motion of a new product, like the next smartphone, and we drop everything to pursue that new brain we sense. I am not immune to this, no one is.
We are a culture of individualism. Our quest is for the self. We look to our own interests. Our laws are based upon property rights--ownership. I protect what is mine. What is mine cannot be claimed by another. Yet, just as with zombies, we cannot break away from interdependence. At some level, we realize that my interests are furthered by having others around me. We do not look after our neighbors' interests, but we do not go off and live lives of solitude, either. We keep them around because their presence makes it more likely that I will succeed in fulfilling my own desires. Just so, zombies are not repulsed by other zombies, do not choose the solitary life, but will remain in groups and travel together. If proximity to other zombies decreased their chances of feeding, then they would not remain together. We remain together, tolerating each other, because we realize the benefit to the self. Community is for the individual, a tool for the fulfillment of self. Nearness to others is not about communication, but gratification.
We are a culture of mindlessness. A study was recently done, in which an actor outside of a pharmacy pretended to have a leg injury. The actor asked one set of passersby to go and ask the pharmacist for an ace bandage to wrap the injury. Another set of passersby were asked to go ask the pharmacist for something--anything--that would be helpful. The pharmacist was instructed to tell the ace bandage Good Samaritans that they were out of bandages. None of the passersby with the specific ace bandage request asked the pharmacist for some other option, they simply went back to the actor and told them there were no ace bandages to be had. Not one person thought outside of the specific request, not one person made the short, common sense leap to ask for pain medication or some other remedy. Those with the more general request, however, brought something helpful back to the actor. We live our lives mindlessly in this way. We are very task oriented, and our viewpoint about the world can easily become narrow, even myopic. In the same way, zombies do not consider anything beyond their immediate task...eating your brain.
Paul calls the Christian away from this type of society and culture. "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God--what is good and acceptable and perfect." (Romans 12:2). Faith calls us to be mindful of the whole creation as it unfolds around us, at least as mindful as we can bear to stretch ourselves. Faith calls us to be concerned with the needs of others, as much as or more than we are concerned for our own needs. Faith reminds us that we are stewards of the earth and its resources, and not merely consumers, that it is both our responsibility and ability to preserve and conserve according to the amount we consume.
To the Christian, conformation to this world is death. If we simply conform, we might as well be zombies, the dead walking. But in Christ, we are transformed. Our minds are renewed, and we can see more options--a more beautiful world and way--than what is right in front of our nose.
Christian unity does not destroy individuality; neither is our unity just a mob of individuals; our community is a tension between the two. By the power of the Holy Spirit, we receive the mind of Christ. The Spirit empowers us and gathers us. And it is through the practice of spiritual disciplines, under the guidance and support of the church, that we are able to renew our minds. We must practice mindfulness through prayer, meditation, study, devotions and praise. We must practice loving-kindess, focusing on the needs of others through mission. We must practice stewardship through the act of giving generously and receiving gratefully. It is impossible to do these things by oneself. And so the Spirit gathers us.
Shall we be pilgrims, or just walkers?
Shall we be the beloved community, or the mindless mob?
Shall we be transformed, or merely conform?
Don't eat brains. Renew your mind.
The Walking Dead, based on a series of graphic novels of the same name, chronicles the experiences of a band of humans striving to survive after an unknown event causes masses of people to turn into flesh-eating, reanimated corpses. If a "walker" bites you, you turn into one yourself. When you die, however you die, you turn into a walker--there is no escape. Walkers are only subdued by fatally injuring the brain. But walkers are not the only threat in this fallen society. Other humans, also trying to survive, are also as easily the enemy as the walkers are. You don't know if someone you meet will steal your food, water or shelter, or if they will leave you alone, or if they will work with you to survive.
The premise of the show, as well as the "rules" of the world to which it transports us, are not very different from those of Romero's ground-breaking movies. What makes The Walking Dead unique and enthralling is that it is an extended immersion into the post-apocalyptic world of zombies. One common major theme of both, which I would like to explore a bit here, is the theme of unity.
In the show, no one can survive alone. People need each other. Survival requires working together toward common goals--acquiring food & water, protection, etc. Community is the key, cooperation.
And yet, in the show we find two different types of unity. The good, life-saving and life-giving community created by our heroes is held in sharp relief by the ever-present background of the mindless zombie mob. Yes, the zombies symbolize community as well, a unity of a very different, and horrifying kind.
Now, the zombies don't have a social structure, and they do not cooperate, per se. However, just as with human survivors, the zombies' strength is in numbers. When a walker is caught alone, it is easily dispatched, relatively speaking. Meanwhile, when they are in groups, particularly large groups, as they often are found, then they are an unstoppable force. The press of the undead overwhelms all defenses, intrudes upon all sanctuaries, renders ineffectual all attempted offenses. When alone, the zombie's sole motivation is to consume--consume you! And when a group of zombies gather, they are united in that one, selfish goal--to consume. Therein lies their community. One unifying goal. True, each individual zombie is motivated only to feed itself, yet that one goal unites them. Mindless and accidental as it may be, this behavior does constitute a community of sorts.
At our worst, we are a zombie culture.
We are consumers in a consumer society. The average American (one person) produces 4.4 pounds of garbage a day, according to the EPA. This does not include the industrial and commercial waste created to create the stuff we buy, or the waste produced by the efforts to get that stuff from the industrial site to our homes. On black Friday, our culture's high holy festival, which boasts the highest worship attendance of any other single day of the year, is marked by mobs pressing against merchant doors, flooding into every nook and cranny of commercial space. In 2013, Black Friday sales averaged $13,293,981 per minute...over 13 million dollars PER MINUTE. Our mediums of communication, art, and entertainment cannot exist apart from commercials. When we face economic hardship as a nation, we are exhorted to buy more in order to solve the problem...and that probably is the only solution because it is a consumer culture. We are attracted to the motion of a new product, like the next smartphone, and we drop everything to pursue that new brain we sense. I am not immune to this, no one is.
We are a culture of individualism. Our quest is for the self. We look to our own interests. Our laws are based upon property rights--ownership. I protect what is mine. What is mine cannot be claimed by another. Yet, just as with zombies, we cannot break away from interdependence. At some level, we realize that my interests are furthered by having others around me. We do not look after our neighbors' interests, but we do not go off and live lives of solitude, either. We keep them around because their presence makes it more likely that I will succeed in fulfilling my own desires. Just so, zombies are not repulsed by other zombies, do not choose the solitary life, but will remain in groups and travel together. If proximity to other zombies decreased their chances of feeding, then they would not remain together. We remain together, tolerating each other, because we realize the benefit to the self. Community is for the individual, a tool for the fulfillment of self. Nearness to others is not about communication, but gratification.
We are a culture of mindlessness. A study was recently done, in which an actor outside of a pharmacy pretended to have a leg injury. The actor asked one set of passersby to go and ask the pharmacist for an ace bandage to wrap the injury. Another set of passersby were asked to go ask the pharmacist for something--anything--that would be helpful. The pharmacist was instructed to tell the ace bandage Good Samaritans that they were out of bandages. None of the passersby with the specific ace bandage request asked the pharmacist for some other option, they simply went back to the actor and told them there were no ace bandages to be had. Not one person thought outside of the specific request, not one person made the short, common sense leap to ask for pain medication or some other remedy. Those with the more general request, however, brought something helpful back to the actor. We live our lives mindlessly in this way. We are very task oriented, and our viewpoint about the world can easily become narrow, even myopic. In the same way, zombies do not consider anything beyond their immediate task...eating your brain.
Paul calls the Christian away from this type of society and culture. "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God--what is good and acceptable and perfect." (Romans 12:2). Faith calls us to be mindful of the whole creation as it unfolds around us, at least as mindful as we can bear to stretch ourselves. Faith calls us to be concerned with the needs of others, as much as or more than we are concerned for our own needs. Faith reminds us that we are stewards of the earth and its resources, and not merely consumers, that it is both our responsibility and ability to preserve and conserve according to the amount we consume.
To the Christian, conformation to this world is death. If we simply conform, we might as well be zombies, the dead walking. But in Christ, we are transformed. Our minds are renewed, and we can see more options--a more beautiful world and way--than what is right in front of our nose.
Christian unity does not destroy individuality; neither is our unity just a mob of individuals; our community is a tension between the two. By the power of the Holy Spirit, we receive the mind of Christ. The Spirit empowers us and gathers us. And it is through the practice of spiritual disciplines, under the guidance and support of the church, that we are able to renew our minds. We must practice mindfulness through prayer, meditation, study, devotions and praise. We must practice loving-kindess, focusing on the needs of others through mission. We must practice stewardship through the act of giving generously and receiving gratefully. It is impossible to do these things by oneself. And so the Spirit gathers us.
Shall we be pilgrims, or just walkers?
Shall we be the beloved community, or the mindless mob?
Shall we be transformed, or merely conform?
Don't eat brains. Renew your mind.
Saturday, October 4, 2014
Reclaiming Good
While in the middle of creating, God looked upon what was unfinished and saw that it was good.
Words matter. Both the words we use with others, and the words we use with ourselves matter a great deal. Words frame and build the story of who we are...of who I am. We must be mindful of the words we use, therefore. Recently, I have been startled with the use of the word "good" in our culture today.
A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to a fellow clergyman, a colleague and friend. He was sharing his struggle to find the energy to keep up ministry in the church. He is nearing retirement age, he mused. And he just didn't have the stamina and endurance he had when he was young. His fear was was not doing an adequate job in his role as pastor. This is not how he phrased it to himself, though. He said, "I just want to be sure that I am doing an exceptional job, especially for these people at my congregation." And in the very next breath he reiterated, "I don't want to be a piss-poor leader." I understood exactly what he meant. Right away, in my mind, I agreed with him. I thought to myself, 'What a noble desire resides in the heart of this man, my friend!' At first, I thought that that attitude was the one to have. After all, we want to avoid laziness and mediocrity. Then I thought again.
I noticed the words he used: "exceptional" and "piss-poor."
Then I noticed the words he didn't use.
The way he talked, it was clear to me that my friend saw nothing--no oasis or rest stop or ledge to fall on--between exceptional and piss-poor. If you were not the former, you were the latter, just like that.
I shared with my friend the chasm I noticed between the words he used to describe himself and his work. I pointed out that there are points between exceptional and piss-poor, and not all of those points are bad. I said, "What's wrong with being good?"
Last week, in confirmation class with seven 7th-graders, we were hearing again the story of creation found in Genesis 1. We talked about how, again and again while God was creating, God paused and remarked, "And it was good." I asked the class: "What does 'good' mean? If a teacher or a coach tells you that what you did was good, how would you feel?" Here were the answers:
"Good means you did your very best, but you could have done better."
"Good means you didn't do it perfect."
"Good means you tried."
"Good means you should do better next time."
All of the responses were like this. And my heart broke.
Then, I got angry at the injustice we have perpetrated upon our young people by teaching them a distorted and evil conception of the good.
In our culture, good is not good enough. We are not satisfied with good, as God was satisfied with what God saw in creation--what God saw even in the first days of creation. In fact, for us, today, good is bad. How messed up is that? And yet we teach this trash to our children. And the problem is so advanced, the truth so distorted, that even when God says, "It is very good," their first reaction is, "...ah, well, maybe next time."
But good is good--great even.
There is nothing wrong with good. Good is not bad. Good is wonderful, in fact. Good IS something to be proud of. Good means, "Well Done." Good is, and should be, satisfying. Good is enough...more than enough.
Yes, we can always be 'better.' And striving to improve is good. So, how can we be satisfied with what we do and who we are, without becoming contented--for contented means that we do not seek anything more, that we stop trying. Surely acknowledging the good does not entail such a slip into lethargy. Can't "good" also encourage us to more when we recognize it as such?
How can we reclaim the concept of "Good"? How can we develop a fuller (and more helpful) spectrum of (self-) assessment? I believe we need to start teaching our children that there are more options than "exceptional" and "piss-poor." Our productivity, our fruitfulness, depends upon it...and so does our joy.
For God, creation was not just good, not merely good.
God saw that it was good.
What's so wrong with that?
Words matter. Both the words we use with others, and the words we use with ourselves matter a great deal. Words frame and build the story of who we are...of who I am. We must be mindful of the words we use, therefore. Recently, I have been startled with the use of the word "good" in our culture today.
A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to a fellow clergyman, a colleague and friend. He was sharing his struggle to find the energy to keep up ministry in the church. He is nearing retirement age, he mused. And he just didn't have the stamina and endurance he had when he was young. His fear was was not doing an adequate job in his role as pastor. This is not how he phrased it to himself, though. He said, "I just want to be sure that I am doing an exceptional job, especially for these people at my congregation." And in the very next breath he reiterated, "I don't want to be a piss-poor leader." I understood exactly what he meant. Right away, in my mind, I agreed with him. I thought to myself, 'What a noble desire resides in the heart of this man, my friend!' At first, I thought that that attitude was the one to have. After all, we want to avoid laziness and mediocrity. Then I thought again.
I noticed the words he used: "exceptional" and "piss-poor."
Then I noticed the words he didn't use.
The way he talked, it was clear to me that my friend saw nothing--no oasis or rest stop or ledge to fall on--between exceptional and piss-poor. If you were not the former, you were the latter, just like that.
I shared with my friend the chasm I noticed between the words he used to describe himself and his work. I pointed out that there are points between exceptional and piss-poor, and not all of those points are bad. I said, "What's wrong with being good?"
Last week, in confirmation class with seven 7th-graders, we were hearing again the story of creation found in Genesis 1. We talked about how, again and again while God was creating, God paused and remarked, "And it was good." I asked the class: "What does 'good' mean? If a teacher or a coach tells you that what you did was good, how would you feel?" Here were the answers:
"Good means you did your very best, but you could have done better."
"Good means you didn't do it perfect."
"Good means you tried."
"Good means you should do better next time."
All of the responses were like this. And my heart broke.
Then, I got angry at the injustice we have perpetrated upon our young people by teaching them a distorted and evil conception of the good.
In our culture, good is not good enough. We are not satisfied with good, as God was satisfied with what God saw in creation--what God saw even in the first days of creation. In fact, for us, today, good is bad. How messed up is that? And yet we teach this trash to our children. And the problem is so advanced, the truth so distorted, that even when God says, "It is very good," their first reaction is, "...ah, well, maybe next time."
But good is good--great even.
There is nothing wrong with good. Good is not bad. Good is wonderful, in fact. Good IS something to be proud of. Good means, "Well Done." Good is, and should be, satisfying. Good is enough...more than enough.
Yes, we can always be 'better.' And striving to improve is good. So, how can we be satisfied with what we do and who we are, without becoming contented--for contented means that we do not seek anything more, that we stop trying. Surely acknowledging the good does not entail such a slip into lethargy. Can't "good" also encourage us to more when we recognize it as such?
How can we reclaim the concept of "Good"? How can we develop a fuller (and more helpful) spectrum of (self-) assessment? I believe we need to start teaching our children that there are more options than "exceptional" and "piss-poor." Our productivity, our fruitfulness, depends upon it...and so does our joy.
For God, creation was not just good, not merely good.
God saw that it was good.
What's so wrong with that?
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