Kierkegaard’s Ghost

(News that’s fake, but credible)

Kierkegaard’s Ghost is proud to publish this editorial by our distinguished guest contributor, Rudy Giuliani, America’s Mayor and attorney for president Donald J. Trump.

Dear United States of America,

Let me dispense with the pleasantries and get right to the point. Donald Trump is your president today and will be after November 2020. Get used to it.

Please don’t bore me with your recitations of all of Donald Trump’s moral deficiencies, corruption and incompetence. I know all about that and so does his base. We don’t care. We don’t care about BLM demonstrations. They only help your president make his case for law and order. We don’t care that over 120,000 Americans have died from Covid-19. That is all the fault of Obama, Hillary, George Soros and the Deep State. We believe that Donald Trump is the one who is going to fix it and our minds can’t be changed.

Do you think I don’t know that Donald Trump’s base is dumb as a bag of hammers? That’s obvious. You heard Trump himself say his supporters were so hopelessly stupid that they would keep on supporting him even if he were to murder an innocent person in public. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together would have known then and there that they had just been insulted. Not our stalwart base! Donald Trump could torture a puppy to death in the Oval Office on national television and the base would still adore him. That’s what makes him invincible. You can shout facts all you want. Donald will just tell his followers that it’s fake news cooked up by the press and the Deep State. They, for their part, will swallow it hook, line and sinker, turn around and dismiss your facts as lies. They believe what they want to believe which is always what Donald Trump tells them.

And here’s the thing. As goes the base, so goes the Republican Party. It’s no secret that even moral ciphers like Mitch McConnell are somewhat concerned about the conduct of our president. But they will back him no matter what comes out of the Muller Report, the impeachment hearings, the BLM protests or how many people die from Covid-19. They will support Trump to the end because the Trump base is the soul of their party. There is nothing left of the Republican party beyond adoration of Donald Trump and they know it. Crossing Trump is political suicide. Ask Jeff Flake. That’s why Mitch follows Donald into the rose garden nuzzling his pant legs like a stray cat looking for dinner. That’s why Trump can call Ted Cruz’s wife ugly and his father a murderer, yet still Ted comes whimpering to lick the boots of his president and plead for an endorsement. As the Good Book tells us, the sheep know the vice of their shepherd.

“The truth will prevail,” you say. Let’s have a little talk about truth, shall we? I have to confess that I love watching liberal politicians and the press go into conniptions whenever Donald Trump says something that is obviously inaccurate. “How does he keep getting away with it?” they ask with exasperation that amuses me to no end. They just can’t get it into their elite brains that facts don’t matter. Truth has nothing to do with facts. Truth is pictures, pictures deeply ingrained in the hearts and minds of white Americans-and not just those within Trump’s base. Frightening, disturbing pictures burned deep into the white man’s soul. Pictures of taxes eating away at their hard earned savings to feed social programs for people too lazy to work. Of course, we never said these folks were black. Nobody has to. It’s all in the pictures. Yes, pictures of lily white daughters seduced by the sons of dark skinned immigrants and foreigners with unchristian faiths-or no faith at all. Pictures of a nation where faith, family, patriotism and the flag no longer matter. Call Donald Trump ignorant, incompetent and inarticulate. But he knows instinctively how to summon up these pictures and employ them to convince white Americans that the America they know and love is being taken away from them-and only he can take it back. You can make all the fact based rational arguments you want, but it’s the pictures white Americans will take with them into the voting booth. As the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words.

And one more thing. After November 2020, it’s no holds barred. The press, the instigators of impeachment and disloyal members of this administration will-let’s just say “go through some things.” And having put the troublesome concern over re-election behind us, you can be sure the kid gloves will come off when it comes to dealing with protests.  “What about the rule of law?” you ask. “What about the United States Constitution?” Let me tell you something about the almighty Constitution. It’s just a piece of paper. In fact, it’s so frail it can’t survive outside of a helium-filled case in a darkened room at a temperature of 70 degrees and constant humidity of 25 to 30 percent. Expose it to the open air and the light of day and it falls apart like a cheap shirt. That’s your Constitution. Law is only a matter of words. Truth, the only truth that matters, is in the pictures: blood, soil, race, nation.

You, America, are not the only people driven by these pictures Donald Trump so skillfully evokes. You saw what happened in Britain with Brexit. You see what is happening in Hungary, Italy, Poland, Brazil and Argentina. You see the populist tide rising in Germany, Scandinavia, the Netherlands and other places around the globe. This time there will be no alliance of democratic states to stop it. Trump is the future. Join that future or be crushed under it.

Sweet dreams America,

Your Beloved Mayor,

Rudy Giuliani

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FAKE NEWS ALERT: The above article is satirical. The events it describes didn’t happen.  “There are people who will say that this whole account is a lie, but a thing isn’t necessarily a lie even if it didn’t necessarily happen.” John Steinbeck

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 11:1-10
Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19
Romans 15:4-13
Matthew 3:1-12

Prayer of the Day: Stir up our hearts, Lord God, to prepare the way of your only Son. By his coming nurture our growth as people of repentance and peace; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.”  Isaiah 11:9.

In last week’s reading from Isaiah, the prophet assured us that the day will come when the nations of the world forsake war and turn their weapons into farm implements. If you thought that improbable, you must think utterly absurd this week’s oracle about predatory animals becoming vegetarians and living peacefully among those formerly their prey. Isaiah’s vision of such a peaceable world runs contrary to everything we know about the biosphere. Death is an essential feature of ecology. One generation dies to make room for the next. Healthy vegetation lives off the remains of animals and plants that have died and been absorbed into the soil. The population balance between herbivores and the plants they need to live is kept in check by carnivores. Take death out of the ecological equation and the biosphere implodes. A world without death and killing is unimaginable.

But that might well be the point. The problem is not the boldness of Isaiah’s vision, but the poverty of our imagination. The oracle diagnoses an inability on our part to imagine existence without violence and death. It has become axiomatic that death, along with taxes, is inevitable. That being the case, we make room for death in all of our thinking, planning and doing. Death is always the unacknowledged yet ever present elephant in the room guiding our financial planning, directing our politics and shaping the way we think about heath and medicine.

Violence, too, is accepted as part and parcel of what it means to live. Consider how thoroughly the language of warfare and violence has permeated our talk about every facet of life. Political movements are labeled “campaigns” with strategy meetings taking place in “war rooms.” When someone experiences illness, we say they are “battling” the disease and often say with admiration “he’s a fighter.” We “draw lines in the sand” when discussing issues critical to us and vow that we will “go to the trenches” defending our point of view. We speak of all our social problems in terms of warfare. Our government’s legislature has declared war on poverty, drugs, crime, illiteracy and a host of other abstract nouns, thereby illustrating the truth of the now well worn adage: when the only tool in your box is a hammer, all your problems start looking like nails. I sometimes wonder whether it would be possible for us to have a conversation about anything if all these battle metaphors were magically cleansed from our vocabularies. Or would having to choose new metaphors compel us to think differently, creatively and imaginatively about our world?

The prophet’s job is to kick our imagination into gear. That is important because faith is impossible without imagination. There are mysteries that only imagination can grasp. That is why Jesus always spoke of God’s reign in parables. It is why Paul, after speaking at length about the resurrection of the dead, finally dispenses with all analogies and says, “Listen, I will tell you a mystery!” I Corinthians 15:51. It is why John of Patmos resorts to the lurid images of apocalyptic literature to speak of Jesus’ final victory over the powers of death and of the new creation in which “death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.” Revelation 21:4.

What we confess in our creeds to be true is bigger than what we are able to comprehend or even imagine. Yet if our imaginations can be stimulated to grasp even fragments of these mysteries, it becomes easier to imagine and visualize anew the things we can comprehend. The impossible becomes plausible. It becomes possible to imagine Israelis and Palestinians sharing the land and living side by side in peace; to imagine a world in which no one is food insecure or without access to medical care; to imagine an international forum in which disputes between countries are resolved without resort to warfare. Prophetic imagination is what “prepares the way of the Lord.” Matthew 3:3.

Here is a poem by Phillis Wheatly speaking to the power of imagination.

FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Isaiah 2:1-5
Psalm 122
Romans 13:11-14
Matthew 24:36-44

Prayer of the Day: Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come. By your merciful protection save us from the threatening dangers of our sins, and enlighten our walk in the way of your salvation, for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near.” Romans 13:11-12.

“Wake up, people.” That cry came from an angry teen at a recent forum on climate change. I think that young man was expressing the frustration so many of his generation feel watching the devastating effects of climate change in so many parts of the world as we “adults” remain in denial. Jesus uses “sleep” as a metaphor for denial in our gospel lesson and he warns his disciples that it is not their friend. Denial takes many forms. We are of, course, familiar with those who, in spite of overwhelming scientific evidence to the contrary, insist that climate change is a “hoax.” Similar claims are made by fringe elements about the Holocaust and the Sandy Hook shootings. But denial often takes a more subtle form. Sure, climate change is real, but it’s not an immediate concern. Of course, the murder of six million Jews in Europe happened-but that was in the past. Antisemitism isn’t a real threat anymore. So, too, for decades we white Americans consoled ourselves with the belief that racism belonged solely to America’s past and that the election of Barack Obama was proof. The surge of racial hate and nationalistic fanaticism that brought Donald J. Trump to the White House has, I hope, dispelled that notion and caused us to “wake up” to the corrosive effect of these dangerous ideologies at work in government, the workplace and even in our churches.

In our second lesson, Saint Paul exhorts the church in Rome to “wake up,” but for an entirely different reason. His wake up call is made, not to warn the church of impending danger, but to alert it to the glad news of impending salvation. “Salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed,” the apostle declares. His call to wakefulness implores his hearers not to become distracted, not to grow weary with waiting and not to forget that, however deep the darkness, they are to live as though the day of resurrection has already arrived. This is not merely another form of denial. The dangers and temptations of the darkness are very real. The world as we know it is falling apart at the seams just now. It may be too late to avoid many of devastating consequences of our ecological irresponsibility. Our nation’s government and the democratic practices and traditions that once sustained it may be damaged beyond repair. The resurgence of overt racism in our country might have made its eradication the work of many generations to come. These are the undeniable realities. But Jesus would remind us that, in addition to being the death rattle of the old creation, these things are also to be understood as the birth pangs of the new. In the midst of what looks for all the world like death, God is at work bringing forth life.

At least for those of us in the northern hemisphere, the church calendar begins during the darkest part of the year. As I look out the window into my back yard, I don’t see a spot of green. Everything looks dead. The weather is dark and rainy. There isn’t much evidence of life. If I had not seen it happen every single year of my life, I would never believe that in five short months the dead underbrush will be producing slivers of green, then multi-colored blossoms and finally lush, emerald hued leaves. If I were a visitor from some other world, I wouldn’t anticipate the population of this acre with butterflies, dragon flies and birds of every color and description. The coming of spring strikes me as natural and expected only because I have seen it repeatedly. Indeed, it would be remarkable were spring not to come.

Advent is all about hope. It is the beginning of a journey through holy narratives that will teach our hearts to expect the remarkable transformation of creation from death into life. This pilgrimage will train our eyes to look for the day when the nations “shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks [and] nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” Isaiah 2: 4. Understand that by hope I do not mean mere optimism or a dogged determination to “look on the bright side” even when there is no bright side. Hope is grounded in Jesus’ resurrection. Resurrection, of which Jesus is the “first fruits,” is the end of creation. It is the end, not merely in the sense that it ends the reign of death, but in the sense that it reveals the end toward which creation is moving. Jesus’ resurrection is the future pushing into the present, the light by which it is possible to look into the present darkness and find even there the seeds of life that is eternal.

Understood in this way, Jesus’ resurrection renders moot the question of when the end will come. It came on Easter morning when Jesus rose from the tomb. It comes today when the resurrected Christ opens the scriptures to us and sets our hearts on fire. It comes when on playgrounds, in churches, across borders, on the streets and within families the divisive powers of racism, tribalism, nationalism and patriarchy come down in some small way. The end comes when the people of God, chosen out of every tribe, nation and tongue, worship the Lamb as one in the creation made new. That’s not something you want to sleep through!

Here’s a poem by Joanna Klink speaking about the fragility and resilience of hope.

Half Omen Half Hope

When everything finally has been wrecked and further shipwrecked,
When their most ardent dream has been made hollow and unrecognizable,
They will feel inside their limbs the missing shade of blue that lingers
Against hills in the cooler hours before dark, and the moss at the foot of the forest
When green starts to leave it. What they take into their privacy (half of his embrace,
Her violence at play) are shadows of acts which have no farewells in them.
Moons unearth them. And when, in their separate dwellings, their bodies
Feel the next season come, they no longer have anyone to whom
To tell it. Clouds of reverie pass outside the window and a strange emptiness
Peers back in. If they love, it is solely to be adored, it is to scatter and gather
Themselves like hard seeds in a field made fallow by a fire someone years ago set.
In the quiet woods, from the highest trees, there is always something
Weightless falling; and he, who must realize that certain losses are irreparable,
Tells himself at night, before the darkest mirror, that vision keeps him whole.

On the verge of warm and simple sleep they tell themselves certain loves
Are like sheets of dark water, or ice forests, or husks of ships. To stop a thing
Such as this would be to halve a sound that travels out from a silent person’s
Thoughts. The imprint they make on each other’s bodies is worth any pain
They may have caused. Quiet falls around them. And when she reaches
For him the air greens like underwater light and the well-waters drop.
They will see again the shadows of insects.
They will touch the bark and feel each age of the tree fly undisturbed
Into them. If what is no longer present in them cannot be restored,
It can at least be offered. Through long bewildered dusks, stalks grow;
Rains fill and pass out of clouds; animals hover at the edges of fields
With eyes like black pools. For nothing cannot be transformed;
Pleasure and failure feed each other daily. Do not think any breeze,
Any grain of light, shall be withheld. All the stars will sail out for them.

Source: Raptus. (c. 2010 by Joanna Klink, pub. by Penguin, a division of Penguin Group (USA), LLC.) Joanna Klink (b. 1969) is an American poet. Born in Iowa City, Iowa, she received an M.F.A. in Poetry from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. She earned her Ph.D. in Humanities from Johns Hopkins University. Her awards and associations include the Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers’ Award; the Briggs-Copeland Poet from Harvard University; the Jeannette Haien Ballard Writer’s Award; the Civitella Ranieri; the American Academy of Arts and Letters; the Amy Lowell Poetry Traveling Scholarship; and The Bogliasco Foundation. Klink has published several collections of poetry, including They Are Sleeping; Circadian; Raptus (from which the above poem is taken) and Excerpts from a Secret Prophecy. She is currently a member of the poetry faculty at The University of Montana. You can find out more about Joanna Klink and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

Kierkegaard’s Ghost

(News that’s fake, but credible)

In a rare show of bipartisan cooperation during the otherwise contentious impeachment hearings, House Republicans and Democrats have agreed to substitute professional actors to perform their respective rolls. “We keep getting complaints that the hearings are boring and that they lack pizazz,” Rep. Adam Schiff told reporters earlier today. “We can’t afford to lose viewers of this historic moment to The Price is Right.” Rep. Devin Nunes agreed saying, “Look, if we are going to have a show trial, let’s make it a show worth watching.” Even President Trump is on board with the idea. “My impeachment is going to be big. Like the biggest one yet,” he said today in a tweet. “More watched already than both Nixon and loser Clinton.”

The Ghost has learned from sources who spoke to us on condition of anonymity that some casting decisions have already been made. The role of Rep. Jim Jordan will be played by actor Daniel Craig. “We needed to find someone who looks a little more appealing in shirt sleeves,” said our source. The role of Devin Nunes will be played by House of Cards star Kevin Spacey. Jim Parsons of Big Bang Theory will play Rep. Adam Schiff. “We were looking for someone who is intelligent and condescending, yet kind of lovable,” our source told us. “Parsons does that perfectly.” The role of Elise Stefanik will be played by Kim Kardashian. “She’s not an actor, but as the glamour piece, she only has to read her talking points and look pretty.” Howard Shore, producer of the soundtrack for Lord of the Rings, has reportedly been asked to create a soundtrack to supplement the impeachment proceedings.

The president has hinted that he may offer his own testimony in order to boost ratings. “If that actually happens,” our source told us, “we won’t be casting him.” It is apparently felt that the role of Donald Trump is bigger than any one actor can possibly fill. “How can we cast a guy who changes his own narrative every five minutes?” he explained. “And after all,” he went on to say, “There is no need for casting here. Reality TV is the the president’s native environment.”

Although the Ghost has not confirmed whether the same process will apply to the coming trial in the Senate, we have learned that several actors are aggressively pursuing roles in that upcoming production. Indeed, competition has been so intense that some actors have resorted to cosmetic surgery to fit their sought-after parts. It is rumored that several actors are undergoing chin reduction surgery to qualify for the role of Sen. Mitch McConnell and nose enhancement procedures to fit that of Sen. Chuck Schumer. One actor vying for the part of Sen. Susan Collins is actually undergoing removal of her spine.

“We look forward to a first class hearing performance,” said Patrick Boland, press secretary for Rep. Adam Schiff. “These hearings might not produce any substantial legislation for the American people, but they sure will be entertaining.”

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FAKE NEWS ALERT: The above article is satirical. The events it describes didn’t happen.  “There are people who will say that this whole account is a lie, but a thing isn’t necessarily a lie even if it didn’t necessarily happen.” John Steinbeck

Sunday of Christ the King

Jeremiah 23:1–6
Psalm 46
Colossians 1:11–20
Luke 23:33–43

Prayer of the Day: O God, our true life, to serve you is freedom, and to know you is unending joy. We worship you, we glorify you, we give thanks to you for your great glory. Abide with us, reign in us, and make this world into a fit habitation for your divine majesty, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“[Jesus] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him.” Colossians 1:15-16.

“When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left.” Luke 23:33.

In these days when our attention is fixated on the clash of political titans in the U.S. Congress over the impeachment of the planet’s most powerful ruler, we would do well to recall that the “first born of all creation…” through whom and for whom all “thrones,” “dominions” and “rulers” exist hangs on a cross along with two other condemned criminals.  While we are fixated on the fate of Donald Trump and his presidency, the very lives of thousands of refugee families fleeing from violence, starvation and oppression hang in the balance as they languish in refugee camps and detainment centers on both sides our southern border. Like the criminals hanging on the cross with Jesus, these are folks that  a good part of America hates and many of the rest would prefer to sweep under the rug and forget. So, if you are looking for prime time entertainment, just stay tuned to the major networks. But if you seek Jesus, you will have to shut off the television/laptop/ipad/smart phone and look much harder in another direction.

To that end, I offer the epistle of Rev. Stephen Bouman, a predecessor at the church I last served and now Executive Director, Domestic Mission at Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. He is currently visiting our churches and mission partners on the U.S.-Mexican border:

“Yesterday we stared into the face of the nightmare at the border. With Pastor Lorenzo Ortiz of Good Samaritan Ministries in Laredo, we walked across the Rio Grande River into Mexico and Nueva Laredo. This is where asylum seekers are being sent for processing when they cross our border. It is a humanitarian quagmire. Pastor Ortiz arranged for a bus to take about one hundred to Chiapas on the way back home. The wait for a hearing had become too long, too dangerous, too debilitating. We were with them as they departed from a Mexican immigration facility. The pastor told us the cartels, and those who spy for them are everywhere. We heard so many stories of kidnappings, robberies and worse by the cartels. He and his family operate two houses for those awaiting court hearings. Each dilapidated house hosts over one hundred asylum seekers. We met many who were generous in telling their stories. Almost all were from the Northern Triangle of Central America. A woman and her young son and her sister were fleeing death threats from the gangs in San Pedro Sula, Honduras. Their brother, who operated a food truck was killed because he could not afford the extorted “war tax.” They would be next. A woman with a baby was trying to get to New York because her daughter (accompanied by her husband) was having surgery on her legs. She cannot walk. “This child needs her mother now,” she wept. A woman and her small children fleeing violent abuse from her husband was told to get away because when he gets out of jail in several months he has vowed to kill his family. So many stories. So much heartbreak. We could see that they regarded Pastor Ortiz as an angel. Later we drove to Eagle Pass and were at San Lucas Lutheran Church when two Haitian families were released from ICE detention to the shelter of the church. This is what it means to be a “Sanctuary” church! Pastor Rosemary Ducett, our amazing interpreter, was able to turn from Spanish to French to get their story-an long journey from Chile to Colombia, through the jungles of Panama (and robbers), to the Mexican border. They were tired, their small children were restless and yet able to laugh and play with us. Today we will interview Emma Espino-Olvera and Pastor Julio Vasquez of San Lucas, then cross into Mexico, Piedras Negras, with the Border Hope ministry and meet more children of God seeking safety and hope.

“More later. Just this thought. We have now exported our “border problem” to Mexico. Right now the border is the Jericho Road and our country has “passed by on the other side” of the beaten up human beings. Whether our politics are “red” or “blue” can we see their faces? Can our church see their faces? The only question worth asking is far from “is she documented?” Who is our neighbor?”

Jesus tells us “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.” John 12:26. Today I am thankful that there are faithful disciples hanging with Jesus on our border. This may not be headline news, but for those of us who call ourselves Christians, it should be. After all, thrones, dominions, rulers, powers, nations and, yes, presidents come and go. As the old hymn tells us, “Crowns and thrones shall perish; kingdoms wax and wane. /But the cross of Jesus ever shall remain.” Executive orders, acts of congress and the rise and fall of nations, our own included, are destined to vanish in the mists of time. But acts of mercy, kindness and compassion performed in obedience to the King whose reign outlasts time are eternal. At the end of the day, there is but one King deserving of our faith, trust and obedience. There is only one kingdom deserving of our allegiance. Among all the voices competing for our allegiance, there is but one voice that leads from death into life.

Here is a poem by Emily Dickenson reflecting on the nature of Jesus’ reign.

One Crown that no one seeks   

One crown that no one seeks
And yet the highest head
Its isolation coveted
Its stigma deified

While Pontius Pilate lives
In whatsoever hell
That coronation pierces him
He recollects it well.

Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Reading Edition, (c. 1999 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College; edited by Ralph W. Franklin, ed., Cambridge, Mass.) Emily Dickinson (1830-1866) is indisputably one of America’s greatest and most original poets. Born in Amherst, Massachusetts, she attended a one-room primary school in that town and went on to Amherst Academy, the school out of which Amherst College grew. In the fall of 1847 Dickinson entered Mount Holyoke Female Seminary where students were divided into three categories: those who were “established Christians,” those who “expressed hope,” and those who were “without hope.” Emily, along with thirty other classmates, found herself in the latter category. Though often characterized a “recluse,” Dickinson kept up with numerous correspondents, family members and teachers throughout her lifetime. You can find out more about Emily Dickinson and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

Kierkegaard’s Ghost

(News that’s fake, but credible)

The White House announced today that President Donald Trump will be signing an executive order putting a hold on the annual Thanksgiving presidential turkey pardon. “This action is in direct response to numerous acts of aggression by turkeys in Toms River, New Jersey,” said White House press secretary Stephanie Grisham. “The president feels that violent attacks of these birds on senior citizens and children cannot be tolerated.” Defense Secretary, Mike Pompeo agreed, telling reporters at a press conference this morning that “pardoning a turkey at this time would send exactly the wrong message.” Mr. Pompeo stopped short of threatening military action, however, saying that “we have to see how the action we have already taken will be received.”

Adviser to the President, Kellyanne Conway assured reporters later in the day that no military action against the turkeys is anticipated. “The president has always been reluctant to commit our troops to foreign engagements,” she said. When it was pointed out to her that New Jersey is a state of the United States and therefore not a foreign country, Ms. Conway replied, “New Jersey is a blue state that has never supported the president. New Jersey demonstrated its disloyalty to the President in the 2016 election. It’s as good as a foreign country to his administration and therefore undeserving of federal support.”

Though the annual turkey pardon will not be taking place this year, the president assured the nation by way of a tweet that there will be a pardon on Thanksgiving, albeit not a turkey. “THERE WILL BE A T-GIVING PARDON. Thinking maybe Paul Manafort or Roger Stone…lots of people in my administration will also need pardons soon…might need one myself.” he said.

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FAKE NEWS ALERT: The above article is satirical. The events it describes didn’t happen.  “There are people who will say that this whole account is a lie, but a thing isn’t necessarily a lie even if it didn’t necessarily happen.” John Steinbeck

TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST

Malachi 4:1-2a
Psalm 98
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
Luke 21:5-19

Prayer of the Day: O God, the protector of all who trust in you, without you nothing is strong, nothing is holy. Embrace us with your mercy, that with you as our ruler and guide, we may live through what is temporary without losing what is eternal, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

“By your endurance you will gain your souls.” Luke 21:19.

You are looking at Agios Sophia, an Orthodox church in the Greek city of Thessaloniki located roughly in the same locale as the ancient city of Thessalonica where, according to the Book of Acts, Saint Paul founded a congregation to which he wrote two letters. Since at least the Third Century C.E., there has been a Christian Church on the site of Agios Sophia. The present sanctuary was built in the Eight Century based on the design of its namesake in Istanbul, Turkey. Originally Orthodox, the church was converted into a Roman Catholic cathedral when Thessaloniki was conquered in 1205 during the course of the Fourth Crusade. It continued as such until it was returned to the Byzantine Empire in 1246, whereupon it became Orthodox once again. After conquest by the Ottoman Turks in 1430, Agios Sophia was converted into a Mosque. But in 1912 Thessaloniki was retaken by the Greeks and the building was converted back to an Orthodox sanctuary once again. In addition to the fortunes of war, the church has suffered damage from two fires, one in 1890 and the other in 1917. Notwithstanding all of that, the church remains very much alive and vibrant. You can find worshipers on any given day at Agios Sophia worshiping, praying and venerating its many beautiful icons. In spite of “wars and insurrections” and much worse, this church remains. By its endurance, it has retained its soul.

In our gospel lesson for this Sunday, Jesus’ disciples are seeking intel on the proximity of the final judgment and the advent of God’s reign. Jesus’ response must surely have disappointed them. No intel on timing, just a command to endure. Neither the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem nor any insurrection, war, famine, plague or natural disaster implies that the end is near. To the contrary, all of these things can be expected to occur throughout the foreseeable future. There is no clock that can measure God’s time or tell the disciples where they are on their long march toward “the end.” Not only so, but they can expect hostility from their community and even from intimate family members on account of their faith. All of this, however, is to be welcomed as affording the disciples opportunities to bear witness to their hope for the coming reign of God.

Agios Sophia is nothing if not an illustration of endurance, and one that we American Christians should take to heart. Our brief existence on this continent amounts to about 1% of Agios Sophia’s sojourn in Greece. Until recently, protestant Christianity has been almost as much an American institution as was Orthodoxy for the Byzantine Empire. But unlike the ancestors of Agios Sophia, our churches were not born into a hostile imperial environment, have not seen the collapse and conquest of our host country or the seizure of our sanctuaries. With the exception of African American believers, American Christians know nothing of persecution.[1] Though it is fashionable to speak of the American churches’ decline in membership, support and influence as a “crisis,” it hardly ranks with the crusader’s conquest and annexation of Thessaloniki or the invasion and seizure of Agios Sophia’s sanctuary by the Ottoman Empire.

So I have to wonder how we American Christians and our churches will fare in the millennia to follow. Can our congregations survive losing their sanctuaries? Are we the kind of communities that produce saints able to live a counter-cultural existence? Would we continue to be Christians in an environment where membership in a church posed a threat to our reputation rather than constituting a badge of moral character? Do we have the spiritual disciplines and faithful practices necessary to keep our hearts focused on discipleship when discipleship goes against the grain of patriotism, public virtue and the law?

I am not suggesting that any calamity such as those Jesus describes is immanent for American Christians, but that is beside the point. We are just two and a half centuries into our ecclesiastical lives. That is but a moment in the seventeen plus centuries of Agios Sophia. Given that reality, the critical need for endurance is not a matter of whether, but when. Because virtues like endurance are not developed on the fly, perhaps we should be thinking about the form endurance takes in this relatively tranquil age and build on it. Maybe endurance consists in remaining in your church even when the preaching doesn’t connect with you, even when the liturgy seems flat and uninspiring, even when people are not particularly friendly because-well, it’s not all about you, your wants and your needs. Perhaps endurance takes shape in committing to a devotional practice of prayer and Bible reading and sticking with it-even when the novelty has worn off, the practice seems rote and perfunctory and you discover when you are finished that you can’t remember what you just read. Endurance is going through the motions of worship, prayer, giving and service when your heart is no longer in it. Faith is a habit of the heart and, as we all know, developing good habits requires practice, persistence and discipline. Once formed, however, a habit is hard to break. That is the secret of endurance ensuring that we will “not…weary in doing what is right.” II Thessalonians 3:13.

Here is a poem by Alli Warren speaking of habits of the heart and endurance.

A Better Way to Zone

Habits accrue
in circular pattern
and living occasion
swollen among what
the dead have to teach us

So, ear, be an instrument for thought
Tide, bring some
little green thing to dust
behind my eyes

Touch the hotpoint
and drag the tongue
over the fat belly
of a flapping fish

Sticker book
of farm animals
Sticker book of ole timey cats
What is life and how shall it be governed?

With blind devotion
and endurance in the impossible
for guts in everything for roots
in plain sight

Share a lung
Accumulate none
Say hello to the crow

There are certain chord progressions
one should avoid

Source: I Love It Though (c. 2017 by Alli Warren, pub. by Nightboat Books). Alli Warren is an American poet born in Los Angeles. She currently lives in the Bay area near San Francisco. Warren is the author of the poetry collections I Love It Though, from which this poem is taken, as well as Don’t Go Home With Your Heart On and Here Come the Warm Jets. The latter book earned her the Poetry Center Book Award. You can read more about Alli Warren and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

[1] I do not take seriously the whiny complaints of with evangelical Christians like the Rev. Franklin Graham who pretend that they are suffering persecution because they can no longer discriminate against or refuse public services to gay and lesbian persons or, as in the recent case of a Mississippi wedding venue proprietor, deny services to mixed race couples. Discrimination is unamerican to say nothing of unchristian. Those who claim it as a “right” do not belong in a free society. On that subject, see my Open Letter to Rev. Franklin Graham from a “Small Church” Pastor.

Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost

Job 19:23–27a
Psalm 17:1–9
2 Thessalonians 2:1–5, 13–17
Luke 20:27–38

Prayer of the Day: O God, our eternal redeemer, by the presence of your Spirit you renew and direct our hearts. Keep always in our mind the end of all things and the day of judgment. Inspire us for a holy life here, and bring us to the joy of the resurrection, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord

As I am presently out of the country and unable to post an entry for this week, I offer my reflections on these texts from six years ago. If they haven’t improved with age, I hope at least that they have not gotten overly stale.  

The Sadducees in this week’s gospel lesson were probably more interested in ridiculing and humiliating Jesus than learning anything new about the resurrection of the dead (something they didn’t believe anyway). Even so, the questions they raise are genuine concerns for people who do believe in the resurrection. Will I be raised as the same individual I am today, with all of the same experiences and memories? What will happen to the memories I would give anything to be rid of? Will I recognize and be recognized by the people I have loved? What about people I would rather never see again in this life or the next? And, yes, what about my marriage? Will a lifelong relationship that has come to define me amount to nothing in the new creation?

I used to dismiss these concerns as empty and pointless. After all, we are probably no more able to comprehend life on the other side of the resurrection than a caterpillar is able to imagine life as a butterfly. So why bother puzzling over questions that nobody can answer and probably don’t matter anyway? If God can be trusted to raise the dead, can’t God also be trusted to iron out all the resulting complications? While the left side of my brain continues to assure me that questions about life after resurrection are indeed beyond the reach of my intellect and imagination, my right brain has become restive. Whether it is due to the growing body of evidence for my own mortality, the recent deaths of my parents or a combination of both, I find myself more sympathetic toward people seeking a better understanding of what eternal life entails. Thirty-two years of ministry has also convinced me that the church must speak to these concerns. If we remain silent, we abandon the field to tarot card readers, boardwalk mediums and ever popular TV spiritualists of the John Edward variety. They are only too happy to exploit grief, loneliness and uncertainty for their own personal gain.

Our creeds confess “the resurrection of the body.” Understand that biblical faith knows nothing of an eternal soul. Whatever we are made of-body, soul, mind, spirit or anything else-all of that ceases to exist at death. If there is life beyond the grave, it is not because some eternal part of us survives death and continues to exist in some form thereafter. The Bible knows nothing of any “spirit world.” The only hope there is for life after death is God’s promise to breathe life back into the lifeless dust we have become. The gospel therefore does not promise an escape from death. There is no way around death; there is only a way through it. The way through death is union with Jesus in his own death: “For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” Romans 6:5.

A good friend of mine once told me that he views death as nothing more than “passing through a door into heaven.” While I admire the confident faith that I know lies behind that assertion, I cannot agree with the assertion itself. I pass through any number of doors on any given day and they seldom have any effect on me. I carry through each door all of the same prejudices, grudges, ignorance and nastiness that I was born with or picked up over the years. If I simply carry all that with me into the new creation, it won’t be new for very long. Something has to happen to me before I can live peaceably under the gentle reign of God. Before I can live in the new creation, I have to become a new creation myself. That won’t happen through gradual moral improvement. Nothing short of death and resurrection is required. What is raised from death must necessarily be qualitatively different from what has been consigned to death. I must be raised as a new person capable of loving as I am loved. It won’t be “the same old me.”

Something of that death and resurrection is what should be happening with repentance, confession and forgiveness. Martin Luther calls it “drowning the old Adam.” St. Paul describes it in this way: “forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what is ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:14. The important thing to remember here is that the new person is God’s project from beginning to end. Repentance and confession are not spiritual exercises that transform us. Rather, they are the tools by which the Holy Spirit accomplishes the good work of our re-creation. We cannot even know what that work will look like in the end. As St. John puts it, “we are God’s children now; it does not yet appear what we shall be, but we shall be like [Christ] for we shall see him as he is.” I John 3:2. That might not be everything we would like to know, but it is enough.

There is one other concern that comes up frequently in my discussions with people about death and dying. What exactly happens at death? Do we go directly to heaven or do we remain in death until the last day when the dead are raised? Again, I used to be more dismissive of these concerns. Who knows? What difference does it make? When you are dead, ten days might as well be ten-thousand years. But I sense that there is more here than idle curiosity. I think we are looking for assurance that we and our loved ones who go before us will be held together somehow even in death. Thus, although the Hebrew Scriptures generally do not acknowledge any sort of life after death, still Israel believed that God was somehow present even when “my flesh and my heart may fail…” Psalm 73:26. When Jesus responded to his opponents’ denial of the resurrection, he did so by citing God’s self identification as “the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.” Luke 20:37. He then went on to point out that God “is not God of the dead but of the living; for all live to him.” Luke 20:38.

I do not know exactly what it means for the dead to “live to God.” I don’t believe for one moment that it refers to some ethereal “spirit world” made up of disembodied souls. Again, there is not one scrap of scriptural support for the pagan notion of an immortal soul. But, in addition to the resurrection of the body, our creeds confess “the communion of saints.” The author of Hebrews speaks of the Old Testament heroes of faith as “a cloud of witnesses” surrounding us with encouragement and support. I don’t know how to reconcile faith in the “resurrection of the body” with our confession of the “communion of saints,” but I believe we need to hang onto both these expressions of our faith without surrendering one to the other.

Personally, I don’t have any need to understand how it all fits together. I don’t need to know how it works. After all, I don’t understand how my computer is printing these words on the screen before me as I type them on the keyboard; nor do I understand how it will eventually spew them out onto the World Wide Web. All I know is that my computer has always faithfully performed these tasks for me in the past and most likely will keep on doing so. But for those of you who might benefit from more conceptual clarity, I share with you the reflections of author and theologian Robert W. Jenson from the second volume of his Systematic Theology:

“The key insight is a simple one: a saint now in heaven is not an otherwise constituted entity who anticipates resurrection. God’s anticipation of the saint’s resurrection is the heavenly reality of the saint. For God’s anticipation of creation’s life in the Kingdom, of our deification and our vision of his glory, is the whole being of heaven. The saint’s present reality is in no way attenuated by this doctrine; what God anticipates indeed belongs to the “whither” of this life but is just so accessible to him and so real in its own mode.” Jenson, Robert W., Systematic Theology, Volume 2 (c. 1999 by Robert W. Jenson, Oxford University Press), p. 368.

Perhaps that is what Jesus meant when he said of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob that “they all live” to God.

Job 19:23–27a

For my take generally on the Book of Job, see my entry of Sunday, June 24, 2012. In thinking through the lesson for this coming Sunday, I found particularly helpful Claus Westermann’s book on Job. Employing form-critical analysis, Westermann identifies the dialogues throughout Job as “consoling conversation.” Westermann, Claus, The Structure of the Book of Job-A Form-Critical Analysis (c 1981, Fortress Press) p. 10.  These interchanges involve one who laments his/her misfortune and one or more persons offering comfort and consolation. He further notes that “What it comes down to is that a repeated exchange of words belongs to the process of consolation. In real situations of consolation-as experience demonstrates thousandfold-it almost never happens that the sufferer speaks only once and the consoler replies only once.” Ibid. Furthermore, it is “essential to the process of consolation that the one doing the lamenting be allowed to express himself.” This process, which ought to result in comfort to the afflicted one,  goes awry in the Book of Job. “Disputation has intruded” into the process of consolation with the result that what began as a comforting visit becomes a hostile argument. Ibid. As one reads through the cycles of dialogue in Job, it becomes clear that the target of Job’s lament gradually shifts from his friends to God. Even so, the tone of disputation continues driving all parties away from any prospect of resolution or closure. The spiral of pointless argument is broken only when God intervenes speaking from the heart of the whirl wind.

This is in fact how many encounters with suffering turn out. When people are smarting from a traumatic loss, say for example, the death of a loved one, they often appear hostile and even unreasonable. They might lash out at their loved ones for being unsupportive or the pastor for being inattentive or the church for failing to be sufficiently compassionate. They might even blame God for failing them. Defensiveness tends to be our default posture. You might point out that the family came from all corners of the country to be present at the sufferer’s time of need; that the pastor did everything possible to make the funeral service meaningful and comforting; that the congregation is being supportive in every possible way. You could point out that God has blessed the sufferer throughout his or her life and that this loss is common to everyone at some point. It is therefore entirely irrational to suggest that God is singling him or her out. While all of that might be true, it misses the point. Grief is a matter of the heart, not the head. Consolation is a journey toward healing, not an argument designed to establish propositions. Job’s three friends started out on that journey well enough. They sat with Job in silent solidarity, weeping and mourning with him for seven days. Job 2:11-13. Only when they opened their mouths did everything begin to go downhill.

By the time we reach Chapter 19 form which our lesson is taken, the conversation between Job and his friends has deteriorated into a shouting match. In the previous chapter Bildad, one of the consolers, lashes out at Job in a fit of rage: “Why are we counted as cattle? Why are we stupid in your sight? You who tear yourself in your anger—shall the earth be forsaken because of you, or the rock be removed out of its place?” Job 18:1-4. Bildad and his friends are angry at Job because Job refuses to humble himself before God and seek forgiveness for what must be some significant sin. They have carefully laid out for Job the theological underpinnings for their conclusion that his suffering is the consequence of his own wrong doing. But none of their well reasoned arguments resonate with Job. He continues to speak the language of lament even as they persist in the language of reasoned disputation. The parties are truly talking past each other.  In desperation, Job cries out “How long will you torment me, and break me in pieces with words? These ten times you have cast reproach upon me; are you not ashamed to wrong me? And even if it is true that I have erred, my error remains with me. If indeed you magnify yourselves against me, and make my humiliation an argument against me, know then that God has put me in the wrong, and closed his net around me.” Job 19:1-6.  By this time, Job has given up on finding any consolation from his friends and turns his lament upon God. As much anger and confusion as there might be in Job’s lament, there is also a desperate hope: “For I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side and my eyes shall behold, and not another.” Job 19:25-27.

This particular verse is well known as it is commonly read at funerals. While I believe that is an appropriate use of the text, it should be understood that it is not a reference to the resurrection of the dead, a belief specifically formed only in the latest Hebrew writings such as Daniel. Job is very much hoping for God’s vindicating judgment to be manifest in his own lifetime. Now that the counsel of his close friends has turned to judgment and accusation, Job has nowhere left to turn other than to God. In the end, God does vindicate Job, pointing out to Job’s counselors that Job’s lament, not their many disputations, constituted faithful speech to and about God. God is not glorified by elaborate conceptual arguments defending his honor. God is glorified by the faithful lament of one who takes God seriously enough to challenge him.

Clearly, consolation requires compassionate listening and suspension of judgment. Job’s counselors failed because they put their own needs to defend the honor of God and maintain their belief in an orderly moral universe before the needs of their suffering friend. Sadly, that is a mistake frequently made even today. So next time you encounter a lamenting friend, remember Job. In addition to providing us with a lesson on how not to offer consolation, this text emphasizes how freely and openly Israel entered into prayer with her God. Though mindful of her own instances of unfaithfulness to her covenant with God, Israel was not afraid to let God know when she felt God was failing to come through on his side of that covenant.

Psalm 17:1–9

This psalm is a lament and prayer for protection from enemies. Some commentators suggest that this is the prayer of a person on the eve of trial in a significant dispute that might cost him/her dearly. The psalmist points out to God that his/her conduct has been faultless and even invites God to “try” and “test” him/her to show that s/he is blameless. Because God is faithful, the psalmist confidently calls upon him for protection and vindication from his/her adversaries. Such vindication will take the shape of a judgment in the psalmist’s favor against his/her opponents.

While this interpretation is plausible, I wouldn’t bet the farm on it. Given the graphic images of violent attack in verses 10-12 of the psalm (which is not part of our reading), I believe it is just as likely that the psalmist is facing hostility from neighbors in a lawless area of Palestine. The psalm is obviously adaptable for a variety of circumstances. For this reason, it is difficult to date it. As is nearly always the case in Israel’s prayer tradition, the psalmist’s plea for protection is grounded in God’s covenant promises to Israel. No person has any autonomous right to make a claim on God. God owes no one anything. Nevertheless, because God has bound himself to Israel through specific covenant promises, Israel may freely “call God to account” and rely on God to exercise faithfulness to those promises.

2 Thessalonians 2:1–5, 13–17

The relationship between the form and substance of II Thessalonians and 1 Thessalonians has led most commentators to believe that II Thessalonians was composed by a Christian leader writing to a later generation in the name of Paul and his colleagues. However that might be, this second letter echoes Paul’s admonitions to the Thessalonians in the first letter not to concern themselves with “times” and “seasons” for the triumphal return of Christ. I Thessalonians 5:1-11. Here, too, Paul urges the church “not to be quickly shaken in mind or excited, either by spirit or by word or by letter purporting to come from us to the effect that the day of the Lord has come.” Vs 2. He then continues to discuss the appearance of “the man of lawlessness” and the “rebellion” preceding the second coming. This particular section of scripture has given rise to much speculation and is one of the texts that appear to have inspired the Left Behind series. Paul (or the anonymous author) does not explain who the “man of lawlessness” is, nor does he say much about the force that is “restraining him now” discussed in the omitted verses 6-12. Evidently, he assumes that the readers know perfectly well what he was talking about and they probably did. We, alas, have no clue. That is what happens when you read someone else’s mail.

Rather than get caught up in trying to unscramble this egg, I prefer to focus on the concluding verses 13-17. There Paul assures the Thessalonians that they have been elected by God for a better purpose than wrath and punishment. They have been called through the gospel “so that you may obtain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Vs. 14. The focus, then, is comfort for those who have been called. These are the persons to whom the letter is addressed. It is not appropriate to turn this letter of comfort for the elect into a threat against people to whom it was not even addressed.

Luke 20:27–38

Our gospel lesson relates an encounter between Jesus and the Sadducees. It is important to remember that, while the New Testament sometimes lumps the Pharisees and Sadducees together, they represent very different strains of Judaism. The Pharisees and Sadducees each had their own reasons for opposing Jesus. In the case of the Pharisees, the disputes were largely theological. They saw Jesus’ inclusion of “sinners” among his followers as undermining the Torah and the oral traditions designed to ensure strict obedience to its provisions. By contrast, the Sadducees were members and supporters of the priestly caste in charge of maintaining the sacrificial worship practices of the Jerusalem Temple. They were conservative insofar as they insisted on strict adherence to the ritual practices laid out in the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures). They also rejected the oral legal traditions championed by the Pharisees as unwarranted innovations.  Because there is no mention of the resurrection of the dead in the Pentateuch, they maintained that there would be no such resurrection. Nevertheless, the Sadducees were more liberal in their willingness to adopt Hellenistic lifestyles. They enjoyed support from the Roman occupation forces which, in turn, benefited from a substantial cut of Temple revenue. Thus, Jesus’ act of cleansing the Temple and disrupting the commercial transactions that made it a cash cow for Rome constituted a direct threat to their wellbeing. The Sadducees’ opposition to Jesus was thus politically and economically motivated. It was likely the Sadducees who engineered Jesus’ arrest and advocated for his execution. For a useful and concise discussion of the differences between the Pharisees and the Sadducees, see The Jewish Virtual Library.

If the representatives of the Sadducees thought that they could humiliate Jesus before his disciples and in the presence of the people with their clever hypothetical, they seriously underestimated him. Jesus dispenses with the hypothetical summarily by pointing out that those attaining resurrection from death are “equal to angels and are children of God.” We should not read too much into this response. It is not intended to do much of anything but let the Sadducees know that their hypothetical is silly (though for thoughtful believers in the resurrection, it might raise serious concerns as noted in my introductory remarks). The real meat of Jesus’ response to the Sadducees is in his citation to God’s self identification as the God of the patriarchs. If the books the Sadducees acknowledge as holy are from the distant past and the people with whom their God identifies are all dead, it follows that their faith is also a dead relic of the past. In fact, however, God is alive and so are all who put their trust in him. No doubt the scribes (associated with the Pharisees) got a chuckle out of seeing their rival Sadducees trounced by the backwoods preacher from Nazareth. The laughter will be short lived. Their turn comes in verses 41-47.

ALL SAINTS SUNDAY

Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18
Psalm 149
Ephesians 1:11-23
Luke 6:20-31

Prayer of the Day: Almighty God, you have knit your people together in one communion in the mystical body of your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Grant us grace to follow your blessed saints in lives of faith and commitment, and to know the inexpressible joys you have prepared for those who love you, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“But I say to you that listen, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.” Luke 6:27-31

Like me, you have probably been watching the tragic images of ethnic cleansing taking place in northern Syria as Turkish forces kill and displace thousands of Kurds. As a professed pacifist, I feel particularly conflicted at times like these. I am appalled by our nation’s betrayal of a people who have put their lives on the line to help us in our fight. However critical anyone might be about our military involvement in the middle east, there can be no denying that President Trump’s cowardly, inept and possibly corrupt handling of the situation has precipitated a humanitarian crisis. I sympathize with my friends who argue that we need to reverse course and intervene militarily. How can we stand by and allow innocent people to be slaughtered? Would Jesus have us turn our backs on the victims of genocide? Responding to these arguments with anything short of affirmation feels-just wrong.

It is also fair to point out that my personal profession of pacifism is practically meaningless. There is no longer a military draft and even if there were, it is highly unlikely that the number of a man my age would ever come up-unless the war is going very badly for us. It is easy for me to espouse turning the other cheek when no one is laying a hand on mine. No one is shooting at me and my loved ones and no hostile army is driving me out of my homeland. “Easy enough for you, pastor, to turn somebody else’s cheek,” you might say.

That’s all fair. Pacifism is a luxury for straight, white men like me, though perhaps it shouldn’t be. Maybe those of us who identify as pacifists should, as Paul would say, “present [our] bodies as a living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1), taking up residence in places like northern Syria offering what assistance we can to the injured, displaced and homeless. If our witness is to be credible, we who live for peace should be at least as willing to die for it as those who fight for it. I am clearly not there yet and so you might rightly argue that my commitment to peace is only skin deep. I don’t have any concrete, positive solutions for the Kurds. So who am I to criticize those who do have solutions, however incomplete and morally imperfect they might be? Perhaps I should just keep my mouth shut.

Still, here we are on All Saint’s Sunday with Jesus commanding us to love our enemies, do good to those who hate us, turn the other cheek to an adversary that strikes us and refrain from defending our possessions. Near as I can tell, Jesus is taking violence and coercion off the table for his disciples. Therefore, if I would be Jesus’ disciple, I must renounce violence-even when it appears to be the only means of preventing what I anticipate will be even greater violence and injustice. It’s really quite simple, if extremely difficult in practice.

Here is where the “what about…” questions arise. “What about women beaten by abusive husbands?” “What if a deranged serial killer were about to put a knife in the heart of my three-year-old daughter?” “What would I do if I were president and knew that a dictator was about to conduct a campaign of ethnic cleansing against a defenseless group of people within his border?” “What would I have done about Hitler?” Such emotionally charged missives are usually the first responses I get from people who learn of my persuasion. As a former trial attorney, I recognize them for what they are: hypothetical questions that are not calculated to illicit information, but to extract a precise answer. To that end, they frame the issue in binary terms: fight or allow evil to prevail.

When you begin to identify the host of assumptions built into these hypotheticals, however, their superficiality becomes obvious. Fighting back presupposes that the woman in the first hypothetical has the physical strength and capacity to overcome her abuser. Lacking that, violent resistance is more likely to make matters worse for her than better. The second hypothetical assumes that I am packing a lethal weapon at the time of my daughter’s hypothetical attack-something I never do since I am a pacifist and, even if I were not, I understand that loaded weapons and children don’t mix well. It is also assumed that the attacker cannot not be persuaded against doing harm. It is assumed that I am a good enough shot to hit the attacker and not my daughter as well. (But if that is the case, why not just shoot the knife out of the attacker’s hand?) Under the third scenario you have to wonder how a pacifist managed to get elected commander and chief of the armed forces and entrusted with the nuclear codes. And under the Hitler scenario, just when would I be president? At the time of the Treaty of Versailles when I might have used my diplomatic influence to mitigate the punitive and humiliating victor’s justice imposed on Germany in defeat, thereby avoiding the circumstances giving rise to National Socialism? The problem with all of these questions is that the questioner is allowed to manipulate the facts in such a way that violence appears to be the only reasonable option. Give me the same freedom to control the assumptions and I can compel a different outcome.

The unstated assumptions in all these “what if” questions that seem to compel violent resistance as a moral imperative do not comport with reality. In fact, violence is seldom, if ever, required to resolve conflict. Every day nations resolve disputes over all manner of issues through diplomatic channels without resort to military force. Every day police officers respond to domestic disputes, bar fights and neighborhood disturbances without exercising force of any kind. In fact, most police officers complete their entire careers without ever having to discharge their weapons. Sadly, many of the instances in which the police do resort to violence have proven unnecessary. You wouldn’t know it from watching the evening news, but peaceful resolution of conflict is the norm. It’s just not as entertaining as a shoot-out and so does not make the media’s news cycle. That’s too bad, because if it did, we would discover that the world is really far more peaceful than we ever imagined.

The best response I have ever heard to those “what if” questions designed to corner the pacifist into conceding the necessity of violence in some circumstances comes from singer, songwriter and fellow pacifist Joan Baez. The following is an excerpt from an interview she gave to the Christian Science Monitor in 2013:

“To a question on the limits of her pacifism — or as she says ‘the what-if-someone-is-going-to-shoot-your-grandma’ scenario — she replies: “Anybody who says they would never do this in any situation would probably have to check themselves, but for the way I lived my life and the way I plan to live my life does not include violence,” she said. “The longer you practice nonviolence and the meditative qualities of it that you will need, the more likely you are to do something intelligent in any situation.” (Read the full interview at the Monitor’s website).

In short, it simply is not the case that we have but two alternatives when confronted with violence, namely, counter-violence or surrender to evil. There are many ways to resist evil, resolve conflict, overcome hostility and defeat injustice. Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi and numerous saints of the Mennonite and Quaker traditions illustrate how it is possible to confront evil forcefully without resort to violence. That is why I refuse to defend Jesus’ call to peacemaking and non-violence on terms dictated by anyone’s hypothetical questions. If Jesus tells me there is a way out of the vortex of violence and retribution that does not require me to become violent and vengeful, I believe him. If in any circumstance I cannot see that way, the fault lies in my lack of imagination and inspiration, not in the call of Jesus. For that reason, Baez’ call to “practice nonviolence and the meditative qualities” required to discern that way become all the more urgent. We need openness to the Holy Spirit that the mind of Christ be formed in us.

In the end, my commitment to pacifism is not grounded merely in the above cited verses from Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain or any other particular verse of Scripture. My commitment is Christological. God is the ultimate pacifist who, when his only beloved Son was violently murdered, did not resort to violent retaliation. Instead, God raised up that precious gift we so cruelly rejected, and gave him back to us again. Jesus would not allow his disciples to use the sword in his defense. If violence cannot be employed to defend God’s only begotten son, when in God’s name can it ever be justified?

I close with the conclusion to a book that has been formative in my thinking, namely, What About Hitler? Brimlow, Robert W. (c. 2006, Brazos Press).

“At this juncture it is time for me to respond to the Hitler question: how should Christians respond to the kind of evil Hitler represents if just war and [theories of] supreme emergencies are precluded, and if we live with a different meaning of success?

“We must live faithfully; we must be humble in our faith and truthful in what we say and do; we must repay evil with good; and we must be peacemakers. This may also mean as a result that the evildoers will kill us. Then, we shall also die.

“That’s it. There is nothing else-or rather, anything else is only a footnote to this. We are called to live the kingdom as [Jesus] proclaimed it and be his disciples, come what may. We are, in his words, flowers flourishing and growing today, and tomorrow destined for the furnace. We are God’s people living by faith.”

Ibid. p. 151.

On a slightly different note, this is All Saints Sunday. Though the texts focus more on the saints struggling within the church militant, it is appropriate to give some thought also to the saints in light. Thus, the following poem:

The Communion of Saints

In the darkness of the nave,
Riding out the temporal wave,
God at rest but never sleeping
On its course this ship is keeping.
Windows screening out the day
Illustrate the hidden way
From which streams through dark of night
Rivers of eternal light.
Holy silence, solemn chime
Joins eternity with time.
Saints in joyous heavenly mirth
Greet those still awaiting birth.
With them mortal voices raise
Their poor, but faithful songs of praise.

Source: Anonymous

REFORMATION SUNDAY

Jeremiah 31:31-34
Psalm 46
Romans 3:19-28
John 8:31-36

Prayer of the Day: Gracious Father, we pray for your holy catholic church. Fill it with all truth and peace. Where it is corrupt, purify it; where it is in error, direct it; where in anything it is amiss, reform it; where it is right, strengthen it; where it is in need, provide for it; where it is divided, reunite it; for the sake of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Initially, I had thought to entitle this Reformation Day reflection: “Why I am still a Lutheran.” On further consideration,  however, I decided to change it into a question and entitle it “Why am I not a Roman Catholic?” That title reflects what has become an ever more urgent and personal inquiry for me. Several people I know and admire have “crossed the Tiber,” so to speak, and become Roman Catholics these last few years. They all have their own reasons. Some of my friends tell me that they are drawn to the “depth” and “texture” of the Mass next to which our protestant worship seems shallow and austere. One of my friends made the switch because she feels that the urgency of living our discipleship as a global communion which transcends all racial, ethnic and national loyalties is greater than any other moral or theological issue dividing the church. She feels the Roman Catholic Church is the strongest and best expression of that commitment. My friend is appalled at the way American protestant churches, in her view, have become little more than civic organizations dedicated to upholding middle class values and promoting some version of the American dream. I know a few people who have become Roman Catholics for no better reason than to escape the controversies sparked within the protestant churches over sexuality issues. (Good luck to them with that. I have a feeling their relief will be short lived.)

Whatever reasons these folks may have for turning to the Church of Rome, it is obvious that they do not find the theological controversies of the Reformation worth fighting about anymore. Or perhaps they feel that these controversies have been largely resolved or never really existed in the first place. Maybe we have been talking (or shouting) past each other all the time. I take seriously the decisions of my friends. After all, it was never the intent of the Reformation (for Lutherans anyway) to form a new Church. It was always our desire merely to reform the old one. At our best, we Lutherans have understood ourselves as a reform movement within the Church Catholic rather than another church. So, if the issues dividing us have been resolved or no longer matter, what excuse do I have for continuing to perpetuate a rift within the Church? If the Church is both One and Catholic, it should live that way and its unity should not be disturbed absent a clear departure from the gospel.

Of course, I can point to a lot of things I don’t like about the Roman Catholic Church. It’s stance on the place of women, contraception, treatment of gay and lesbian persons as well as several of its practices are deeply troubling to me. Yet for much of my life, the Lutheran Church held many similar positions and had its own practices that troubled me. Still, I remained Lutheran and worked for change within my church. These matters were not deal breakers then. Why should they be now? Why not join the Roman Catholic church recognizing that, just as in any church community, there will be need for change and reform as well as opportunities for witness and ministry?

Then there is the whole branding issue. Back in the days when there were enough dyed in the wool Lutherans around looking for a church, it made sense for a church to hang out the Lutheran shingle prominently. That way, all those Lutherans would come to our door before some other Lutheran church snatched them up. But those days are long gone. Few people are looking for churches of any kind these days and those that are don’t seem overly concerned about the brand. Over the last couple of decades, the Lutheran brand has become a liability. I find it increasingly difficult and awkward to explain to people I meet just what it means to be “Lutheran.” If I respond that we are a church that proclaims Jesus as Lord, I seem to be implying that Roman Catholics (and other churches) do not proclaim Jesus or at least do not do it as well as us. If I try to answer that question from a historical perspective and explain how the Lutheran Church was a product of the Reformation in the 16^th century, their eyes glaze over. I am tired of explaining what a Lutheran is. I would rather talk about Jesus from within a united, or better, “catholic” church. About the only thing the Lutheran label is doing for us anymore is making clear to people who see it on our signs that they are not one of us.

So, why am I not a Roman Catholic? The best answer I can give is that the faith community in which I was baptized, in which I have been nurtured and under which I have sought to follow Jesus happens to have been Lutheran. The Lutheran churches were institutionally severed from the Roman Catholic Church centuries before I was born. Over those centuries, we each confronted the same issues presented by the modern world from our separate perspectives and arrived at some very different resolutions. Our separate paths have created new chasms that make “crossing over” profoundly difficult for those of us on both sides at a deeply personal level. I have to ask myself, could I join a church in which my daughter’s call to the ministry of Word and Sacrament is not recognized? Could I join a church in which the marriages of my gay and trans friends are deemed sinful? Could I join a church in which my family members would not be welcome to join me at the Lord’s Table? Make no mistake about it, the fractures in the Church Catholic occasioned by the Reformation are grievous wounds to the Body of Christ which must be healed. But I don’t believe that tearing myself away from the faith community that has shaped my relationship to Jesus and continues to inform my practice of discipleship will assist in such healing. In fact, it would most likely aggravate the wound.

Thus, even if I were entirely comfortable with the idea of joining the Roman Catholic Church (I am not yet), I probably would not do it. I would be just one soldier switching sides in a war that should not have been declared in the first place. I want reconciliation to the Church of Rome with all my heart, but not without the rest of my faith family. I want healing for the whole Body of Christ, not just for myself. That means living with the pain of separation while continuing the hard work of dialogue, listening, repenting, forgiving and, above all, praying for the Holy Spirit to make us one.

Here is a poem by Barbara Howes about homecoming, which I think we can read as a prayer for return to the home where we have never truly been, but which we earnestly seek and to which Jesus would call us: the oneness he shares with his Father in the binding love of the Holy Spirit.

The Homecoming

All the great voyagers return
Homeward as on an arc of thought;
Home like a ruby beacon burns
As they crest wind, scale wave, soar air;
All the great voyagers return,

Though we who wait never have done
Fearing the piteous accidents,
The coral reef sharp as the bones
It has betrayed, fate’s cormorant
Unleashed, whose diving’s never done.

Even the voyager of mind
May fail beneath behemoth’s weight;
Oh, the world’s bawdy carcass blinds
All but the boldest, rots the sails
And swamps the voyaging of the mind.

But all the great voyagers return
Home like the hunter, like the hare
To its burrow; below, earth’s axle turns
To speed their coming, the following fair
Winds bless their voyage, blow their safe return.

Source: Collected Poems 1945-1990, (c. 1954 by Barbara Howes,  pub. by Grove/Atlantic, Inc.) Barbara Howes (1914-1996) was an American poet. She was adopted by a well-to-do Massachusetts family and reared in Chestnut Hill.  She graduated from Bennington College in 1937 and worked briefly for the Southern Tenant Farmers Union in Mississippi. From 1943-1947 Howes edited the literary magazine, Chimera, living in Greenwich Village. In 1947 she married the poet William Jay Smith, and they lived for a time in England and Italy. They had two sons, David and Gregory, and divorced in the mid-1960s. The book from which the above poem is taken received a nomination for the 1995 National Book Award. You can read more about Barbara Howes and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.