So I've given myself some time to process- as a minister, as a father, as a human- although the more I process the events the more befuddled I become. I'm assuming it's the same for you.
26 people.
20 children. (6 years old, 6 years old, 7 years old, 6 years old...)
6 adults, including teachers/administrators- some of our greatest public servants.
Assault weapon.
Elementary school.
In what world do those phrases have any sort of convergence? How can this happen? How can we live in the face of such inexplicable violence and irrational darkness? Yesterday, I mumbled a few words to the congregation, although I felt like I was whistling into a whirlwind. All I knew to do was "believe out loud," so here goes.
Truth be told, I was getting ready to hunker down with the shepherds and Joseph and Mary one more time. I was ready to gather at the manger- Norman Rockwell style. I've seen the portraits of the Nativity- the ones that portray the manger as a fairly nice crib and the stall as a sanitized delivery room. The ones that give baby Jesus an incandescent glow rather than that strange purply color of most newborns. The ones that portray Mary as saintly beautiful rather than in need of more pain meds. I was settling into the sentimentality of the season, when suddenly the events of Friday knocked the sentimentality and romanticism right out of it. Silent Night was about the farthest song from my mind on Friday. All was neither calm nor bright.
At some point along the way- I remembered the way Matthew tells the story. The birth of Jesus is told with such brevity you almost read over it without noticing it. Matthew tells of the birth of Jesus in one verse- "She gave birth to a Son: and he called his name Jesus" (1.25).
In the next verse, Matthew begins the story of King Herod, who upon hearing of one born "King of the Jews," set about to remove the threat. In his paranoia and insecurity (to which history attests), Herod initiated a policy of death, systemically killing children 2 and under throughout the region. This event has been popularly deemed "The Slaughter of Innocents." I've never seen Norman Rockwell make an attempt at this one, nor have I seen this depicted on a Hallmark card. And yet, this is the backdrop for the birth of Christ in Matthew's gospel. Infantcide. Irrational evil. Immeasurable darkness.
Furthermore, the scandal of it all is that this story isn't about God's absence (as some have argued about our most recent tragedy)- but God's presence. GOD IS WITH US- Immanuel. God shares in every pain, every death, every tear, and every loss- because God exists in close proximity with us. When the voices cried in Ramah (2.18), Mary's, Joseph's, and Jesus' voices were among them. In his inexplicable love and irrational concern, God became one of us. It was love that drove God to the manger. The manger was a donkey's feed trough. The stable was anything but sanitized. The birth was anything but romanticized. It was as real as life is- and as messy and painful.
Honestly, I take some peace in the fact that Jesus' birth left little room for the sentimental and the romanticized because neither my life nor our world is sentimental and romanticized. Jesus was not born into a Norman Rockwell world; he was born into our world. Death, evil, and suffering are realities in our world and must be acknowledged as such. In our frail humanity, we stare into the abyss day after day, sensing an expansive darkness that brings us to our knees.
What we most need is good news that comes to us in the midst of our realities, not that which ignores them. What we most need is a presence that calms our souls in ways that answers never will.
What we most need is a God who draws near suffering, not a God who runs away from it.
What we need is a love that is as irrational as the hatred and fear.
What we need is an inexplicable light that shines amidst inexplicable darkness.
What we need is a peace that comes from open doors, not that which only exists behind triple locked ones.
And so, the last few days I've returned to the story and rediscovered the news.
Shepherds.
Angels.
Glory to God.
Peace on Earth.
Manger.
Virgin.
Baby.
Savior.
In what world do those phrases have any sort of convergence? How can this happen? How can we stare into the face of such immeasurable love and irrational peace? Truth is- I can't get my head or heart around what happened in Bethlehem that night any more than I can get my head or heart around what happened in Sandy Hook Elementary School last Friday. But the only way I know to move forward after last Friday's darkness is in the light of this other story. The only way I know to move forward is by trusting that there is more truth and meaning in that one verse in Matthew than in the thousands of reports we've consumed in these days. While Herod's violence lives on in this world, so does Christ's peace.
No matter the depths of the darkness. No matter the breadth of the pain. No matter the statistics of death. No matter the power of fear. No matter the layers of despair. Jesus comes to us one more time. It's in times like this that we cling to Immanuel like our lives depend on it. Because...well... they do.
She gave birth to a son and he called his name Jesus.
This news brings me to my knees as well.
turning aside to consider life, theology, and culture...
Monday, December 17, 2012
Monday, December 10, 2012
It's What You Believe
The other day, I stumbled upon a meditation from Richard Rohr, one of my favorite writers. While not specifically an Advent thought, it does center on the wonder and belief of this season. Hope it blesses you.
We know everything today
And believe almost nothing
It is not reason that drives our lives,
But passion or the search for it.
It is not words and concepts,
But living images that grab our souls.
It is not what we know that haunts us in the end,
But what we did not know and don't know yet.
We must make friends with the unknowing,
What you know is just ten thousand different things.
But what you believe
Is what you pay attention to,
What you care about,
What finally lives and matters in you.
What you believe is not one of ten thousand things,
It is that which sees ten thousand things.
It is not what you know that matters,
Or changes anything:
It is what you believe
And believe all the way through.
May we all believe- all the way through!
We know everything today
And believe almost nothing
It is not reason that drives our lives,
But passion or the search for it.
It is not words and concepts,
But living images that grab our souls.
It is not what we know that haunts us in the end,
But what we did not know and don't know yet.
We must make friends with the unknowing,
What you know is just ten thousand different things.
But what you believe
Is what you pay attention to,
What you care about,
What finally lives and matters in you.
What you believe is not one of ten thousand things,
It is that which sees ten thousand things.
It is not what you know that matters,
Or changes anything:
It is what you believe
And believe all the way through.
May we all believe- all the way through!
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
On Earth, Peace
His name was Salem Boulos, and he was a Palestinian Christian living in Gaza. On Nov. 19, Boulos- a father of five and a member of the Baptist church in Gaza- was killed when an Israeli bomb hit a nearby building. According to an Ethics Daily article about Boulos released this morning, around 2000 Christians live in the Gaza Strip, and as you might imagine, the recent conflict has been brutal for them. In short, people are dying. People created in the image of God are dying. People for whom Christ gave his life are dying. People who share our communion table are dying.
A lot of the talk I hear surrounding this conflict revolves around Israel as "God's chosen people." What I don't hear is any discussion of the purpose of Israel's chosenness. The reason God chose Abraham was so that he might be "a blessing to the nations" (Gen. 12.2-3). From the beginning, God's election of Israel grew out of his love for ALL the nations. Lesslie Newbigin, a British theologian, has helped me wrestle with election more than anyone else. Newbigin argues that God's election always serves a missional purpose. When our view of election is divorced from our view of God's cosmic mission of redemption and wholeness, then God's choosing becomes little more than an arbitrary game of playing favorites. In other words, God doesn't choose the particular because God only cares about the particular. No, God chooses the particular to be his servant for the sake of all creation. God cares about the world- ALL of it, and God uses particular people to reach the ends of the earth. God is on the side of all creation, summoning all creation to draw near.
One also wonders how we could miss so much of the New Testament which argues that in Jesus, Israel's calling and purpose found fulfillment. Jesus did what Israel could not. Jesus- who continually stepped over nationalistic boundaries, who called his followers to be peacemakers, who blessed all people through his life, death, and resurrection- epitomizes what it means to be chosen by God.
Thus, the real issue at hand isn't what side of the conflict we are on, but which side of peace we are on. The real issue is whether or not we have the courage to follow the One who always chooses peace. To be clear, I'm not arguing for Israeli control over the Palestinians or Palestinian control of the Israelis (this cycle IS the problem), and I readily confess my shallow knowledge of what is an unimaginably complex conflict. What I am calling for is a renewed commitment to peace from those who name Christ as Lord. I am arguing for an allegiance to Christ and the ways of Christ that trumps all other allegiances. I'm asking Jesus people to wrestle with the hard questions. Will we continue to flippantly dream of "world peace," or will we begin the hard work of engaging the things which make for peace? Will we allow national interests to take precedence over human lives? Will we allow our views of Israel to shape our notions of peace or will we allow our views of peace to shape our notions of Israel?
As the season of Advent slowly approaches, I'm beginning to hear echoes of the angels' song, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace to ALL people." One wonders if this old song could find a new choir in this season. One wonders if that child of peace could be born anew in this season. If he is, I'm betting that he nestles down amongst the peacemakers.
Today, I pray that this peace might find its way around the whole world, and I hope it begins with the family of Salem Boulos.
A lot of the talk I hear surrounding this conflict revolves around Israel as "God's chosen people." What I don't hear is any discussion of the purpose of Israel's chosenness. The reason God chose Abraham was so that he might be "a blessing to the nations" (Gen. 12.2-3). From the beginning, God's election of Israel grew out of his love for ALL the nations. Lesslie Newbigin, a British theologian, has helped me wrestle with election more than anyone else. Newbigin argues that God's election always serves a missional purpose. When our view of election is divorced from our view of God's cosmic mission of redemption and wholeness, then God's choosing becomes little more than an arbitrary game of playing favorites. In other words, God doesn't choose the particular because God only cares about the particular. No, God chooses the particular to be his servant for the sake of all creation. God cares about the world- ALL of it, and God uses particular people to reach the ends of the earth. God is on the side of all creation, summoning all creation to draw near.
One also wonders how we could miss so much of the New Testament which argues that in Jesus, Israel's calling and purpose found fulfillment. Jesus did what Israel could not. Jesus- who continually stepped over nationalistic boundaries, who called his followers to be peacemakers, who blessed all people through his life, death, and resurrection- epitomizes what it means to be chosen by God.
Thus, the real issue at hand isn't what side of the conflict we are on, but which side of peace we are on. The real issue is whether or not we have the courage to follow the One who always chooses peace. To be clear, I'm not arguing for Israeli control over the Palestinians or Palestinian control of the Israelis (this cycle IS the problem), and I readily confess my shallow knowledge of what is an unimaginably complex conflict. What I am calling for is a renewed commitment to peace from those who name Christ as Lord. I am arguing for an allegiance to Christ and the ways of Christ that trumps all other allegiances. I'm asking Jesus people to wrestle with the hard questions. Will we continue to flippantly dream of "world peace," or will we begin the hard work of engaging the things which make for peace? Will we allow national interests to take precedence over human lives? Will we allow our views of Israel to shape our notions of peace or will we allow our views of peace to shape our notions of Israel?
As the season of Advent slowly approaches, I'm beginning to hear echoes of the angels' song, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace to ALL people." One wonders if this old song could find a new choir in this season. One wonders if that child of peace could be born anew in this season. If he is, I'm betting that he nestles down amongst the peacemakers.
Today, I pray that this peace might find its way around the whole world, and I hope it begins with the family of Salem Boulos.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Politics as Religion
This weekend, a friend (Brian Warfield) and I were discussing our political climate, namely its vitriolic tone, utter polarization, and totalitarian emphases. Brian offered a provocative observation, one that has echoed in my mind these last few days. He said, "It's almost like politics has become a sort of religion in and of itself."
Spring Creek serves as a polling place for our community. Today, I've been astounded at the number of people who have walked through our facility. A couple of times, our parking lot has mirrored an Easter crowd. I began to wonder of today IS Easter for some people, those for whom the political process is of ultimate importance. Tonight will be the grand conclusion to months of wandering in the campaign wilderness.
In some ways, politics does possess all the trappings of religion. There are holy days to be sure, including primaries, debates, conventions, and elections. Tonight, no matter who wins, some people will mourn the end of the world and some people will dance at the arrival of the Kingdom of God. Each party has its fair share of evangelists, who zealously promote its good news. These partisan mascots remind me of the old enthusiastic revivalist preachers who were more heat than light. Party platforms all but confess certain creeds and confessions, deriving from the orthodoxy undergirding them. Oftentimes, people attach messianic importance to the candidates, elevating them to superhuman status. The conventions increasingly feel like worship services, with a liturgy comprised of music, testimonies, and speeches (which almost smell like sermons). Each party has its share of canonized saints (cf. Bill Clinton/ Ronald Reagan). Furthermore, in a time where religious lines are merging and blurring, political boundaries are hardening and ossifying, producing a society in which political affilitations are more defining than religious commitments. In some places, one's seat at the communion table is determined more by their candidate of choice than the Lord of their lives. Maybe Brian is right, politics has become something of a sacred enterprise, filling a void of meaning in a day when religion in its various manifestations is on the decline. Has politics become a religion unto itself?
Today, I cast my vote as a grateful citizen of a wonderful country, cognizant of the importance of presidential elections. At the same time, I was reminded that American politics is at best penultimate when seen in the light of an eternal Kingdom which is already here and also yet to come.
The world will not change tonight, no matter who is elected. I'm reminded of this, not just on election day, but every Easter when I show up at an empty tomb to discover something more powerful than a popular vote or even the democratic process. Every Easter, I behold an act of God, a new world, and a true Messiah who can do more than we can ask or imagine... or elect.
Spring Creek serves as a polling place for our community. Today, I've been astounded at the number of people who have walked through our facility. A couple of times, our parking lot has mirrored an Easter crowd. I began to wonder of today IS Easter for some people, those for whom the political process is of ultimate importance. Tonight will be the grand conclusion to months of wandering in the campaign wilderness.
In some ways, politics does possess all the trappings of religion. There are holy days to be sure, including primaries, debates, conventions, and elections. Tonight, no matter who wins, some people will mourn the end of the world and some people will dance at the arrival of the Kingdom of God. Each party has its fair share of evangelists, who zealously promote its good news. These partisan mascots remind me of the old enthusiastic revivalist preachers who were more heat than light. Party platforms all but confess certain creeds and confessions, deriving from the orthodoxy undergirding them. Oftentimes, people attach messianic importance to the candidates, elevating them to superhuman status. The conventions increasingly feel like worship services, with a liturgy comprised of music, testimonies, and speeches (which almost smell like sermons). Each party has its share of canonized saints (cf. Bill Clinton/ Ronald Reagan). Furthermore, in a time where religious lines are merging and blurring, political boundaries are hardening and ossifying, producing a society in which political affilitations are more defining than religious commitments. In some places, one's seat at the communion table is determined more by their candidate of choice than the Lord of their lives. Maybe Brian is right, politics has become something of a sacred enterprise, filling a void of meaning in a day when religion in its various manifestations is on the decline. Has politics become a religion unto itself?
Today, I cast my vote as a grateful citizen of a wonderful country, cognizant of the importance of presidential elections. At the same time, I was reminded that American politics is at best penultimate when seen in the light of an eternal Kingdom which is already here and also yet to come.
The world will not change tonight, no matter who is elected. I'm reminded of this, not just on election day, but every Easter when I show up at an empty tomb to discover something more powerful than a popular vote or even the democratic process. Every Easter, I behold an act of God, a new world, and a true Messiah who can do more than we can ask or imagine... or elect.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Simplicity and Mystery
I would not give a fig for the simplicity on this side of complexity, but I would give my life for the simplicity on the other side of complexity. Oliver Wendell Holmes
I dont' know about you, but I long for simplicity. One gander at my calendar, one cursory glance at the complex issues that we face today; just trying to survive life- and I find myself longing for simplicity.
I'm not talking about simplistic living on this side of complexity. I'm not talking about a way of life that avoids the issues of the day by burying one's head in the sand. I'm not talking about an approach to faith that is pre-rational. I'm not talking about religion that mocks science without fully engaging it. I'm not talking about a church where people leave their brains at the door lest the discussion grow complicated. I'm not talking about claiming mystery as a substitute for critical thought. I'm not talking about simplistic answers that haven't taken the time to bother with the questions.
The simplicity I long for is on the OTHER side of complexity. It's the simplicity of realizing that every age has its issues, and yet the faithful persist. It's the simplicity that reorients one's busyness without trivializing life's realities. It's the simplicity of a post-rational faith, a faith that has become more content amidst the forests of questions than the deserts of answers. It's the simplicity of knowing that mystery isn't the replacement of thought, but the humble admission that after we've done our best thinking, there is still more mystery beyond us. I'm talking about religion which befriends science, but also realizes that many ultimate realities simply do not fit in test tubes. I'm talking about a faith where head and heart are joined, and the soul remains open to the miraculous and inexplicable. I want a faith that relentlessly pursues truth but also realizes that a greater Mystery is relentlessly pursuing me. I want to love God with every neuron in my brain without succombing to the illusion that God is somehow entrapped there. I want to wrestle with the questions, but I also wonder if faith isn't shaped more in wrestling with the questions than answering them.
I don't want an irrational faith; I want a superrational faith. Today, I concur with Holmes: I would not give a fig for the simplicity on this side of complexity, but I would give my life for the simplicity on the other side of complexity.
What do you think?
I dont' know about you, but I long for simplicity. One gander at my calendar, one cursory glance at the complex issues that we face today; just trying to survive life- and I find myself longing for simplicity.
I'm not talking about simplistic living on this side of complexity. I'm not talking about a way of life that avoids the issues of the day by burying one's head in the sand. I'm not talking about an approach to faith that is pre-rational. I'm not talking about religion that mocks science without fully engaging it. I'm not talking about a church where people leave their brains at the door lest the discussion grow complicated. I'm not talking about claiming mystery as a substitute for critical thought. I'm not talking about simplistic answers that haven't taken the time to bother with the questions.
The simplicity I long for is on the OTHER side of complexity. It's the simplicity of realizing that every age has its issues, and yet the faithful persist. It's the simplicity that reorients one's busyness without trivializing life's realities. It's the simplicity of a post-rational faith, a faith that has become more content amidst the forests of questions than the deserts of answers. It's the simplicity of knowing that mystery isn't the replacement of thought, but the humble admission that after we've done our best thinking, there is still more mystery beyond us. I'm talking about religion which befriends science, but also realizes that many ultimate realities simply do not fit in test tubes. I'm talking about a faith where head and heart are joined, and the soul remains open to the miraculous and inexplicable. I want a faith that relentlessly pursues truth but also realizes that a greater Mystery is relentlessly pursuing me. I want to love God with every neuron in my brain without succombing to the illusion that God is somehow entrapped there. I want to wrestle with the questions, but I also wonder if faith isn't shaped more in wrestling with the questions than answering them.
I don't want an irrational faith; I want a superrational faith. Today, I concur with Holmes: I would not give a fig for the simplicity on this side of complexity, but I would give my life for the simplicity on the other side of complexity.
What do you think?
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