FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT

Joshua 5:9-12

Psalm 32

2 Corinthians 5:16-21

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Prayer of the Day: God of compassion, you welcome the wayward, and you embrace us all with your mercy. By our baptism clothe us with garments of your grace, and feed us at the table of your love, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” II Corinthians 5:16-17.

From a human point of view, I stand alone and all others surround me in concentric circles on an ever expanding continuum of relatedness. To begin with, there is my small circle of family and intimate friends. A little further out are the members of my church, my hiking group and my coworkers. After that come the neighbors I do not know well, but whom I recognize, greet and exchange pleasantries. Beyond these are the are people I have never met, but with whom I share a common bond of faith, political affiliation or hobby. The further out I go on these circles of relatedness, the weaker my interest and concern. At some point, indifference kicks in. People who live far away, speak a different language and practice a different religion are too far removed and their problems too abstract to move me. Then there is the enemy, people I believe, rightly or wrongly, are a threat to me. These are people I prefer to keep at a distance.   

Saint Paul turns this “human point of view” on its head. “We once knew Christ from a human point of view,” says Paul. From a human point of view, Jesus was just another starry eyed idealist who refused to accept the duality of “us” versus “them.” He dared to cross over the established social, political and religious boundries to touch people consigned to the margins, those on the last concentric circle of relatedness. He did not recognize Ceasar’s godhood. He ignored the distinctions of lineage, class, moral and ritual cleanliness that defined who was who and how they were related. Quite predictably, the imperial powers that be crushed him like a bug. That is what always happens to people like Jesus. Nice guys finish last. But then God raised him from death-as if to say “this,” not Caesar, not religious purity or cultural pedigree, not the claims upon us of blood, nation, soil or race.

Jesus’ resurrection changes everything. God is not who we thought God was. Power is not what we imagined power to be. Glory is nothing like what we formerly called glorious. The concentric circles of relatedness are now dissolved. We can no longer view anyone from a human point of view, that is, in terms of their affinity, association or kinship with us-or lack of the same. All people, whatever their familial, geographical, cultural or national designation, are people for whom Jesus died, people to whom God desires to be reconciled, people to be woven into the fabric of the new creation.

From a human point of view, the cry of “America First” has some appeal. So does cancelation of funding of USAID in support of nutrition, health care and education worldwide. Yes, there is a lot of suffering around the globe. But there is plenty of suffering here within our own borders. Should we not rather take care of our own first? Sorry about the horn of Africa and Gaza, but let’s face it: there is only so much to go around. It is only natural that I consider my struggling fellow Americans to be my first priority.

But from a human point of view, I could just as easily make an argument for “Massachusetts First.” The Commonwealth of Massachusetts is one of the highest contributors to the federal coffers. Our taxpayers bring in far more than most other states in the Union. Why should any of that money go anywhere other than Massachusetts? I am sorry about California’s wildfires and the flooding down south, but we have two aging bridges over the canal to Cape Cod that are now long past their expiration date. Let us take care of our own back yard before worrying about the house next door.

Equally as well, I could make a pretty good argument for “Cape Cod First.” Those of us here in Barnstable county encompassing the Cape contribute a lot to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts-maybe more than our share. We maintain a lot of parks, forests and beaches that entertain millions of tourists frequenting us in the summer months. That generates a lot of revenue for us. So if we are going to be taxed on it, why should our dollars be spent repairing the tunnels in Boston? As noted above, we have two bridges in need of replacement. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and fix your own tunnels Boston!

From a human point of view, I could easily argue for “Wellfleet First.” There are few of us full time residents up on the Outer Cape, but we still need police and fire protection. We also have a school to support. For that we need every penny collected from us. Why should our tax dollars be dolled out to larger towns and villages of the upper, mid and lower Cape, all of which have much larger tax bases? To be sure, they have some expensive problems to address in terms of water quality, transportation and traffic. But why should that be our problem? Just because we happen to be in the same county, does that make us responsible for them?

Perhaps the strongest argument to be made from a human point of view is “Me First.” As I drive through my town, I notice the playgrounds, the programs for youth and our elementary school. Should I have to pay for all that? I don’t have any school age children and I am sure not swinging on the monkey bars. I say let the people who use these amenities pay for them and I’ll keep my money for the things I need-like a new driveway. “Me First” is the clearest and most honest expression of the “human point of view” that Paul insists cannot stand in the presence of the new creation God brings about through Jesus.  

Paul reminds us that our task as disciples of Jesus is reconciliation. That involves crossing over the concentric circles of relatedness, rejecting all religion, politics and ideology that put us at the center of the universe and push others out to the margins. As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. observed in his now well known Letter from a Birmingham Jail, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” In God’s new creation, God is placed at the center with all God’s children held together as one in God’s heart. There is no room in this new order for any “First.”  

Here is a poem by Joy Harjo articulating what sounds very much like the new creation in Christ of which Saint Paul speaks.

Once The World Was Perfect

Source: Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings, (c. 2015 by Joy Harjo; pub. by W. W. Norton & Company, Inc..) Joy Harjo (b. 1951) is an American poet, musician, playwright, and author. She served as the 23rd United States Poet Laureate, the first Native American to hold that honor. She was also only the second Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to have served three terms. Harjo is a member of the Muscogee Nation. In addition to writing books and other publications, Harjo has taught in numerous United States universities, performed internationally at poetry readings and music events and released seven albums of her original music. Harjo is the author of nine books of poetry, and two award-winning children’s books. You can learn more about Joy Harjo and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT

Isaiah 55:1-9

Psalm 63:1-8

1 Corinthians 10:1-13

Luke 13:1-9

Prayer of the Day: Eternal God, your kingdom has broken into our troubled world through the life, death, and resurrection of your Son. Help us to hear your word and obey it, and bring your saving love to fruition in our lives, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“I do not want you to be unaware, brothers and sisters, that our ancestors were all under the cloud, and all passed through the sea, and all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea, and all ate the same spiritual food, and all drank the same spiritual drink. For they drank from the spiritual rock that followed them, and the rock was Christ.” I Corinthians 10:1-3.

By ancestors, Saint Paul means the children of Israel. Of course, as the church in Corinth was made up of both Jews and gentiles, the analogy was at least for some metaphorical-as it is for all us non-Jewish disciples of Jesus. We have been incorporated into a story that was not ours to begin with and becomes ours only by the grace of God in Jesus Christ who brings those of us who were “far off” into the commonwealth of Israel. Ephesians 2:13. We are the adopted children of Sarah and Abraham and the siblings of Jacob’s descendants who were delivered by God from slavery in Egypt, led through the wilderness for forty years and finally brought to the frontier of the promised land. Paul insists that there is much we can learn from these, our spiritual ancestors and their experiences.

Other cultures and religions recognize, perhaps better than us Christians, that we live in the shadow of our ancestors. Reverence for the departed and the recognition of their ongoing influence in our lives is very much a part of traditional African religion as well as American indigenous faith. Rituals invoking the memories of the dead give recognition to the reality that our parents, teachers and leaders shape who we have become-for better or worse. For better or worse, we live in the world they have made for us and are constrained by the consequences of their actions. The wise neither blame their ancestors for all that is wrong with their lives, nor worship them as infallible heroes. Instead, they accept their ancestors for who they were and seek to understand and grow from their wisdom while learning from their poor decisions and mistakes. We are both the proud legacy and the shameful product of those who have gone before us or, to put it in the language of Martin Luther, “at once both saint and sinner.”  

Saint Paul tends to focus on Israel’s failures and shortcomings.[1] He warns the Corinthian church about the dangers of idolatry, immoral conduct, faithlessness and ingratitude. These sins are not merely matters of personal morality-though they are that too. They are beliefs, attitudes and conduct that undermine the common good, poison relationships and breed mistrust. Just as the community of Israel was plagued with sins that impeded its progress and sometimes came close to destroying it altogether, so the infighting, partisanship, jealousy, divisiveness and moral laxity within the church of Corinth were hindering the Spirit of God from forming the mind of Christ within it. These sins stood in the way of the church’s becoming all that God would have it be and hindering God’s purpose of uniting all the world such that God might finally be “all in all.”

The church is a pilgrim people. Our problem is that we have forgotten that. We have become too much at home in the Americana landscape where our churches grace the skyline of every city. We have become emotionally attached to ancient buildings and institutions that have long outlived their usefulness. Like the children of Israel, we long for the fleshpots of Egypt, forgetting that the past we long for was actually a land of bondage and oppression. We tend to look upon the past decades when sanctuaries were packed on Sunday, when Sunday school classes were overflowing and membership was on the rise as a golden age. We forget that these same churches existed quite comfortably with racial segregation, judged harshly single parents, condemned persons in love with another of the same sex and silenced anyone who dared question the morality of America’s wars and acts of oppression. I can remember enough about this supposed “golden age” of American Protestantism to know that however large, prosperous and institutionally vigorous we might have been, our faithfulness left much to be desired.

That leads me to Paul’s point. It is important to learn from the past, but not to idolize it. I am currently reading a book entitled A New History of the American South.[2] It consists of several articles by various authors covering the history of the American south from the indigenous civilizations that inhabited the land prior to European colonization up to the present. Unlike the sanitized version of American history I leaned in elementary and middle school, the authors tell the full story of our government’s ruthless removal of indigenous peoples from their ancestral lands, the brutality of the slave trade, the betrayal of Black Americans with the failure of reconstruction following the civil war and the pervasiveness of systemic racism throughout the Jim Crow era that was no less prevalent in the northern states. The authors also reflect on how this history continues to shape our country today.  

What I find most interesting is the church’s role in this history. The church can be found on the wrong side of every issue, justifying the institution of slavery, participating in the cultural genocide of indigenous peoples, siding with corporate bosses ruthlessly exploiting child labor and providing a religious framework for segregation. But the church can also be found following the way of Jesus. The Black church built and sustained lively communities of faith under the clouds of discrimination, economic exploitation and the constant threat of lynching. Faith communities like the Society of Friends regularly assisted enslaved persons seeking to escape bondage and find freedom in the northern states and Canada. Some pastors and their congregations fought to educate child laborers who would otherwise lack the opportunity for obtaining basic literacy. Like the history of ancient Israel, that of the church is a mixed bag. Our past can be a source of inspiration and encouragement, but equally as well it can serve as a warning against blindness, arrogance and prejudice capable of derailing our discipleship.

It is well to remember during this season of Lent that Disciples of Jesus are a people on the move. Jesus’ call to “follow me” would not make much sense if he were not going somewhere. When you are going somewhere new, however, you do not leave the old behind. You carry it with you. Disciples of Jesus carry the past in their liturgy, prayers, hymns and preaching. Their spiritual ancestors speak through the medium of worship, sometimes encouraging, sometimes instructing and sometimes warning them. You can think of the faith we confess as a snowball that gathers mass as it rolls downhill. It gathers meaning, significance and nuance through each generation’s efforts to understand, follow and testify to Jesus’ way of the cross. As I have often said before, we never read the Bible alone. Even when reading it privately, we read in the company of the Biblical saints, the teachers of the early church, Saints Athanasius, Augustine, Aquinas, Teresa of Avila, Julian of Norwich, Thomas a Kempis, Martin Luther, John Calvin, Karl Barth, Paul Tillich, Gustavo Gutierrez, John Cobb, Phyllis Trible, Douglas John Hall, parents, mentors, numerous Sunday school teachers, pastors, colleagues and friends. We recognize their triumphs, failures, wisdom and temptations as our own. In that sense, those of us who follow Jesus today have a much richer and diverse treasury of learning and wisdom to guide us. We still do not know where we are in our journey to God’s future reign or what the path in front of us holds. Nevertheless, our ancestors have left behind a wealth of spiritual resources for the journey.

Here is a poem by Rena Pries illustrating how a now landless, oppressed and dispossessed people continues to live and anticipate a better day through song, dance and memory.

Welcome to Indian Country

Welcome to Indian Country.

Welcome to Indian Country.

Welcome to Indian Country.

Welcome to Indian Country.

Source: Poetry (September 2022). Rena Priest is the Washington State Poet Laureate and a citizen of the Lhaq’temish [Lummi] Nation. She earned an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. She is the recipient of an Allied Arts Foundation Professional Poets Award and of fellowships from Indigenous Nations Poets and the Vadon Foundation. She currently resides near her tribal community in Bellingham, Washington, where she was born and raised. You can read more about Rena Priest at the Academy of American Poets website and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation Website.

[1] This and other passages taken out of context have lent support to the supercessionist fallacy, namely, that the Hebrew Scriptures portray the story of Israel as one of failure and faithlessness. The church, according to this misguided belief, is the “new” Israel that replaces the “old” Israel. Faith in Jesus is the “new” covenant that displaces the “old.” In fact, however, Paul views the gospel not as the invalidation of Israel’s covenant with its God, but the opening up of that covenant to the gentiles. We are actually invitees, though we often act as if we were the masters of the house! As the sordid details of the Corinthian church spelled out in Paul’s letters make clear, the church is no more successful in its pilgrimage of faith than was Israel. For both communities, the sojourn of faith is a story of both courageous faith and spell of unbelief; moments of triumph and instances of failure. Both communities are sustained, not by their own faithfulness to God, but by God’s faithfulness to them.

[2] A New History of the American South, (Edited by W. Fitzhugh Brundage, Laura F. Edwards & Jon F. Sensbach; c. 2023 by The University of North Carolina Press).

SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18

Psalm 27

Philippians 3:17—4:1

Luke 13:31-35

Prayer of the Day: God of the covenant, in the mystery of the cross you promise everlasting life to the world. Gather all peoples into your arms, and shelter us with your mercy, that we may rejoice in the life we share in your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” Luke 13:34.

This racially, culturally, religiously and politically diverse group of people have just two things in common. They are all perpetrators of mass shootings in which upwards of ten people were killed and many more wounded. They are also all men. Yes, I know that there are also women who commit violent acts. But they are the exception that proves the rule. Since 1982, 145 mass shootings have been carried out in the United States by men. By contrast, only four mass shootings have been carried out by women.[1] You cannot stare these statistics in the face without asking yourself, what the hell is wrong with men?

Manhood in America has always been linked to violence and the measure of a man is his capacity to employ it when necessary. That sentiment is graphically captured in the lyrics of a country western song by Kenny Rogers, Coward of the County. If you are inclined to listen to it, you can find it on YouTube at the above link. In short, the song narrates the tale of Tommy, the son of a violent outlaw who, in his dying words, warns his son not to follow the path of his own violent life. He urges Tommy, “not to do the things I’ve done” and to “walk away from trouble when you can.” Tommy does his best to heed his father’s advice and live peaceably. But his efforts only earn him the reputation of a coward. Then one day, while Tommy is out working, “the Gatlin boys come calling.” They gang rape Tommy’s wife. Tommy comes home to find his ravaged wife bruised and crying. This causes Tommy to snap. He goes to the local watering hole to confront the Gatlin boys who mock him-until he beats the living crap out of them. The song ends with Tommy singing to his departed father:

“I promised you, Dad,
Not to do the things you’ve done.
I walk away from trouble when I can.
Now please don’t think I’m weak.
I didn’t turn the other cheek.
And, Papa, I sure hope you understand:
Sometimes you gotta fight when you’re a man.”

That message has been reinforced for decades by Westerns in which gunslinging cowboys bring law and order to the lawless frontier, police dramas in which irredeemable criminals are brought to heel by highly armed law enforcement officers and Marvel Comics in which superheroes wielding super powers subdue super villains in cosmic battles for control of the universe. Evil is overcome by strong men employing violence.[2]  As famously observed by former NRA leader Wayne LaPierre, “The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is with a good guy with a gun.” This is the creed of American manhood: “Sometimes you gatta fight when you’re a man.”

Against this backdrop comes Sunday’s gospel in which Jesus laments the violence of his people and their city, Jerusalem, pleading with them to come to him for shelter. The image Jesus employes is striking. For one thing, it is starkly feminine. The love Jesus has is very much like the maternal instinct of every creature to protect its young. Secondly, this image speaks not of coercive power, but of vulnerability. Jesus has just been told that Harod Antipas, the “fox” is out to kill him. Just what sort of shelter can a mother hen provide against a fox? The person that comes to mind here is Victoria Soto, the twenty-seven-year old school teacher at Sandy Hook Elementary School killed while trying to shield her students from gunshots fired by school shooter Adam Lanza in that horrible massacre of children almost a decade ago. The image of an unarmed woman trained only in the art of teaching, nurturing and caring for children confronted by a man bent on the destruction of life and armed with an AR-15 assault rifle designed specifically for only that purpose isn’t all that different from the image of a nurturing mother hen confronted by the fox, trying to gather her panicked chicks under her wings as the predator closes in. So I can imagine Jesus longing to take in his hands the heads of his beloved people and speak the words of the poet, “son be mine…this i give you.”

We might prefer a protector more like John Wayne than Jesus. Jesus does not promise us safety and security. To the contrary, he calls his disciples to bear witness to God’s kingdom by living God’s gentle reign of justice, reconciliation and peace in the midst of a violent world that is hostile to it. He does not vanquish our enemies for us. Instead, he calls us to love them. Jesus warns his disciples that his cross is their cross and that they can expect no better treatment than he himself receives. Jesus teaches us by his faithful life, obedient death and glorious resurrection that God’s strength is God’s patience, God’s might is God’s refusal to be drawn into the cycle of retribution and revenge that too often characterizes our relationships with one another, even in response to the murder of God’s beloved Son. God does not need to punish the world to establish godhood and Jesus did not need to fight to prove his manhood. God has no desire to reign over the world through conquest and Jesus has no interest in winning fights. God will reign through suffering love or not at all.  

The notion of American manhood has suffered erosion from several angles, not the least of which is the steady push of women into the workplace, into the halls of higher education, into places of ecclesiastical leadership, into the armed forces and into politics. The ground of uncontested manhood has been shrinking for decades and continues to disappear as women occupy more roles formerly monopolized by men. The role of the man as master of his household, protector of his spouse and uncontested ruler over his children no longer holds. Men find themselves in a world where brut strength is no longer met with awe, jokes that demean women are no longer funny and clever pickup lines no longer work. It is disorienting, to say the least and, to a large degree, threatening. When J.D. Vance ridicules “childless cat women” and complains that men find themselves unable to express themselves by telling a joke or holding the door for a woman, one cannot help but hear the frantic undertone of a disenfranchised man-boy crying “respect my penis, goddamit!”

In a recent New York Times article, three editorial staff members discussed the appeal of Donald Trump with twelve male Trump supporters. All felt that Donald Trump represented a sense of “manliness” that had been lost. They also felt that his re-election could “turn things around” for men. Now bear in mind that this is a man who bragged about kissing women without their consent and grabbing them by the privates. This is a man who routinely mocks the appearance of women he does not like and refers to them as “dogs” and “pigs.” This is a man who has been accused by several women of sexual harassment and assault. This is a man who was found liable for sexually abusing a woman by a federal jury of five men and three women. This “manliness” so admired by Trump’s supporters, is no mere revival of antique chivalry. It represents a toxic antipathy and resentment against strong and independent women and a perceived attack upon manhood.  

The effects of toxic manhood on women runs the gambit from condescension and harassment to outright violence. One in four women will be sexually assaulted before she reaches eighteen. One in five American college women are sexually assaulted during their time on campus. The chief threat of violence to women comes from fragile, insecure men struggling to assert their manhood. This same anxiety helps to fuel the American epidemic of gun violence. A gun represents the final tool of a man’s resistance against a world he feels is leaving him behind. A gun in the hands of an angry man child is the last shred of masculine power left after his girlfriend dumps him, after his female employer fires him and after his son comes out as gay. A gun gives a man the ultimate manly power, namely, the power to kill. It is for that reason the man child insists the only way his gun will be taken from him is by force from “his cold dead fingers.” “You gotta fight to be a man.” When you can’t fight anymore, it follows that you are not a man.

We Americans have serious problem with our men and boys whose expectations and self image have been distorted with our culture’s toxic images of manhood. We who belong to Christ’s church have, in addition, a serious problem with theology that has consistently projected that same toxic male image on God. Sunday’s gospel liberates us from the poisonous effects of toxic manhood. It offers us the picture of a God whose maternal love embraces us in the midst of the terror, confusion and violence that threaten our very existence. Jesus exemplifies a manhood strong enough to weep over the self inflicted suffering of his people and take them in his arms even as they drive nails into his hands. Jesus offers us an alternative to the spiral of despair and violence into which our misguided notions of manhood have plunged so many of us. That lifegiving journey is perhaps the shape repentance takes for us guys this Lenten season.

Here is the poem by Nate Marshall to which I alluded above.    

my mother’s hands

Source: Finna (c. 2020 by Nate Marshall, pub. by Penguin Random House.) Nate Marshall is an American author, poet, rapper and educator. He currently teaches creative writing and literature at Colorado College. He was raised in the West Pullman neighborhood of Chicago where he attended public schools. He holds a BA in English and African American diaspora studies from Vanderbilt University and an MFA in creative writing from the University of Michigan. Marshall is the recipient of the Chicago Public Library Foundation’s 21st Century Award and a member of the Dark Noise Collective. He is the recipient of fellowships from Cave Canem and the Poetry Foundation as well as the University of Michigan. In addition to his teaching at Colorado College, Marshall currently serves as director of national programs for Young Chicago Authors and the Louder Than a Bomb Youth Poetry Festival. He teaches creative writing and literature at Colorado College. You can read more about Nate Marshall and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

[1] Statista, December 9, 2024. A mass shooting is defined as one that occurs in a public place and takes the lives of four or more people.

[2] In recent years, Hollywood has increasingly included women as heroic violent enforcers. One example is CBS’s Equalizer in which vigilante Robyn McCall (played by Queen Latifah) and her team obtain justice for hapless clients for whom the justice system has failed. I suppose this represents an advance for women-if demonstrating that women are as capable as men when it comes to killing people and breaking things can be called an advance.  

FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16

Romans 10:8b-13

Luke 4:1-13

Prayer of the Day: O Lord God, you led your people through the wilderness and brought them to the promised land. Guide us now, so that, following your Son, we may walk safely through the wilderness of this world toward the life you alone can give, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, ‘To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” Luke 4:5-7.

Some time ago I was conversing with a colleague online about the horrific violence in Gaza and the West Bank and all the related issues. Though sympathetic to the suffering of the Palestinians, she was clearly partial to the people of the state of Israel and supportive of its military actions in response to the massacres of October 7^th of last year. She asked me point blank, “Do you believe the state of Israel has the right to exist?” I responded, “As much, I suppose, as any nation state has the right to exist.” It was an off the cuff answer to which I had not given much forethought. But I think this might have been one of those rare instances where an unpremeditated response turns out to be more insightful than intended.

I wonder where we got the idea that nation states have the right to control an area of land. I wonder where we got the idea that nations do or should have rights. How did we come by a world order built on the assumption that an existing constellation of nations have rights that supersede those of individual persons? How did we arrive at the absurdity that a person not recognized as a citizen by any state is without rights and without protection, other than some toothless UN conventions. On what grounds can nations claim their right to exist? There are few left on the face of this earth who are not living on land their ancestors took from somebody else. Theft is, to say the very least, a thin reed on which to hang a moral claim of right. And for those few who can claim to be “original” inhabitants of the land they occupy, I wonder whether “getting there first” entitles them to exclude all newcomers and deny them rights?

These ruminations are a lead into our gospel lesson for this coming first Sunday in Lent where the devil offers Jesus “all the kingdoms of the world” and “their glory and all th[eir] authority” in exchange for his worship and devotion. We have all heard (and many of us have preached) sermons pointing out that the reign of God cannot be implemented by military or political might. That is true enough. But I believe there is a stronger point to be made here. The devil emphasizes that the glory of the kingdoms of the world and their authority belong to him. Thus, they are not to be regarded as neutral implements, like a shovel that can be a useful tool or a murder weapon, depending upon whose hands wield it. The glory and authority of the nations are by nature demonic. They amplify the evil of those who seize them with ill intent and corrupt the morals and integrity of those who take hold of them for noble ends.

A good deal of the world’s violence springs from disputes over territory, efforts of one kind or another to defend land we consider our own. Witness the carnage in Gaza and the West Bank; the bloody war between Russia and Ukraine; the tragic destructiveness in Sudan and the cruelty inflicted on refugees at our southern border in the name of “national security” and “defending American culture.” The world is a dangerous place in large part because it is dominated by nation states defending and/or expanding their territory at the expense even of their own people.

The United Nations was formed following the Second Word War to prevent similar conflicts and manage international hostilities. To its credit, the UN is responsible for doing a great deal of good in the world. Many faithful, courageous and dedicated people have and continue to do great humanitarian work through its many agencies. Yet, for all that, I would argue that its chief function is to maintain a ruthlessly unjust status quo. Though made up of six organizational divisions, the National Security Council is by far the dominant center of power, being responsible for recommending the admission of new UN members to the General Assembly. It is also the body holding final authority to approve any changes to the UN Charter. Its powers also include establishing “peacekeeping operations,” enacting international sanctions and authorizing military action. The Security Council is the only UN body with the authority to issue binding resolutions on member states.

Tellingly, the Security Council is made up of the following nation states: China, France, Russia, United Kingdom and the United States. The common denominator here is a military with overwhelming nuclear capability that cannot be matched by anyone outside “the club.” At the same time, it is tacitly admitted that members of “the club” cannot afford to fight an all out war with each other. To do so would amount to mutual annihilation. So they engage each other through carefully managed “proxy wars,” such as the one currently raging in Ukraine. Throughout the years of the Cold War, such conflicts were waged in Africa as well as South and Central America. World wars have thus never been eliminated. They have simply been managed such that their carnage takes place in some distant corner of the world allowing citizens of Security Council members and their close allies to “live in peace.”

Of course, there is more to all of this than military dominance. The Security Council members are also home to the most powerful economies on the planet. The vast disparity in wealth between the northern and southern hemispheres mirrors representation in the UN hierarchy. With their national fates under the military and economic control of Western Europe, North America and China, the countries of Central America, South America, Southern Asia and sub-Saharan Africa, still struggling with the ruinous effects of centuries of colonialism, find themselves still at the mercy of the military strategic and economic interests of the National Security club and its allies.

On the lowest rung of hell are those who have no nation. I speak of refugees whose countries of origin offer nothing but death by starvation or violence. These folks find themselves eking out a miserable hand to mouth existence in refugee camps or traveling long distances over sea and land hoping against hope to find a decent life in one of the many countries that don’t want them. They have absolutely no voice or vote in the global order and no rights of citizenship to invoke. They are, in effect, non persons. These people, so hated and feared that we are prepared to spend billions sealing our border against them, are paying the price for the peace and security we enjoy. World peace in our day is, as it was under the Roman Empire in Jesus’ day, maintained through organized, systemic brutality for the privileged few at the expense of the many.

Against the backdrop of this inhumane world order, Christians confess belief in the one holy, catholic and apostolic church, the Body of Christ that transcends all humanly drawn borders and embraces peoples of every nation, tribe and tongue. Yet, despite that confession on our lips, we are prepared to kill fellow Christians whose lives stand in the way of military operations defending our national interests and bar them when they flee to our land from poverty and violence. That is because, as I have noted before, the religion of America is America. I suspect that, to a large degree, this is true of other nation states as well. Nationalism is the new faith animating the world. Make no mistake about it. The wars being fought today are as much wars of religion as was the Thirty Years War.

I am not advocating anarchy. Government is a gift of God given for the purpose of ensuring peace, security and protection for all people, especially those among us who are most vulnerable. This is the sole reason for any nation to exist and the criteria upon which all nations great and small are judged. A righteous nation is one in which the hungry are fed, the naked clothed, the sick cared for, the prisoners treated with dignity and the alien welcomed. See Matthew 25:31-46. Moreover, nations, like individual people, are mortal. They have no inherent right to exist, nor are they intended to last forever. “Crowns and thrones shall perish, kingdoms wax and wane” as the old hymn says. Or, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, the nations are but “a drop in the bucket.” Isaiah 40:15. A nation focused solely on its own survival, greatness and power has no place in God’s future. However great its wealth and however mighty its armies, its power is illusory. The devil is aware of this. That is why the devil is quite willing to relinquish such power and why Jesus has no interest in taking it.   

It is not for the church to prescribe a new world order. But the church must speak out where any governing body exceeds its authority and usurps power over people belonging to God alone. The church must speak out when governments call upon their people to discriminate, persecute and denigrate their neighbors, especially those who lack the ability to defend themselves. The church must speak and act when a nation’s economy enhances the wealth of the rich at the expense of the poor. When the glory of the nation, its supporting mythologies and self defined destiny rise higher in the hearts of believers than Jesus’ call to embrace the neighbor across national, class and tribal boundaries, the church is in dire need of repentance.  

Though we mainline churches tend to criticize the Christian right for its unabashed nationalism, our own complicity with the oppressive machinery of the state is not insignificant. Our churches enjoy highly favorable treatment under our tax system. When selective service was in force, clergy were automatically exempt from military service, regardless the position their churches took on the morality of warfare. These privileges do not come without strings attached. Pastors are routinely called upon to offer prayers, blessings, invocations and benedictions at civil ceremonies that glorify our nation rather than the God and Father of Jesus Christ. Our clergy are embedded in all branches of the armed forces with the implicit understanding that they are not to criticize American policy or use of armed force, no matter how morally dubious these may be. Our leaders seem overly fond of national recognition and places of honor. Who can forget the sad parade of clergy at the recent inauguration of Donald Trump offering prayers, blessings and well wishes for a man who makes no secret of his hatred for refugees, contempt for women and discrimination against sexual minorities?

Proximity to power breeds a particularly strong and dangerous temptations. This is particularly true for good people who long to accomplish worthy tasks and are impatient to see them completed. How much might be accomplished if all that power could be harnessed for good! Are a few compromises, a couple of white lies, turning a blind eye to a few abuses too high a price to pay for the ability to make substantial gains for the public good? Do not the ends justify the means? So the devil would argue. But Jesus understood that, rather than the means justifying the ends, the ends are always tainted by the means used to achieve them. The good one seeks to do by aligning oneself with coercive power always becomes distorted in the end.   

Over the history of our nation, the church in its misguided do gooding has been quick to assume the role of moral enforcer, enshrining in our teachings and action, not the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount, but the precepts of white middle class morality. We have sided with the supporters of bloody and unjust wars, the proponents of Jim Crow and the persecution of LGBQT+ folk. Our liturgy, hymnody and preaching have too often conflated the reign of God with the American Dream. We have often remained silent and uncritical when biblical images, narratives and language are woven into the fabric of American patriotic mythology. For too long we have criticized only tepidly the systemic injustice imbedded in our schools, workplaces and justice system. Unlike Jesus, we have been too eager to accept the devil’s invitation to seize the levers of power in the name of all that is good, only to find that we have been coopted into supporting a cruel and unjust order, nationally and globally.

Lent is the season of repentance, a word that literally means “changing direction.” We should not look upon repentance as a burden, but as an opportunity. We do not have to repent. We get to repent. The good news is that we do not have to allow the past to define our present existence or cloud our future. There has never been a better time for the church to be the diverse, inclusive and radically catholic community it is called to be. There is no better time to build bridges even as our government is seeking to build walls. There is no better time to hang out banners proclaiming welcome to immigrants and refugees even as the howling MAGA lynch mob calls for their exclusion. Our witness to God’s love for all people and the unity of the human family in one flesh has never been more relevant and critical. As Saint Paul would say, “See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!” II Corinthians 6:2.

The future is not fixed in stone. On Ash Wednesday the prophet Joel will remind us that, however deserving we might be of the destruction our sins bring upon us and however late the hour,

“Yet even now, says the Lord,
   return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
   rend your hearts and not your clothing.
Return to the Lord, your God,
   for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love,
   and relents from punishing.
Who knows whether he will not turn and relent,
   and leave a blessing behind him…” Joel 2:12-14.

Perhaps this year repentance for the church takes the shape of disengaging from our position of societal privilege, refusing to play the role our society has placed upon us, saying a polite “no” to invitations extended for us to bless our nation’s machinery of oppression. Perhaps for us clergy types repentance takes the shape of speaking uncomfortable truths to our congregations and putting the just peace of God ahead of our natural desire to keep peace within the ecclesiastical household. We may have been dupped, hoodwinked and taken to the cleaners by the devil in the past. But today is a new day. Jesus calls us to follow him in the way of the cross-the way of truth, compassion, empathy, justice and reconciliation. Though the powers that be might mock this way as weak, ineffective and foolish, disciples of Jesus know that it is the only way to life. As for the devil and his promises of power, glory and dominion, he can take a hike.

Here is a poem by Haki Madhubuti that poignantly illustrates the tragic futility arising from the exercise of power by nations, tribes and gangs seeking to assert authority over what they regard as their territory. This is, I believe, the power the devil would sell us and the power Jesus categorically calls us to reject.

Rwanda: Where Tears Have No Power

Who has the moral high ground?

Source: Heartlove: Wedding and Love Poems (c. 1969 by Haki R. Madhubuti; pub. by Third World Press, Chicago, IL.) Haki R. Madhubuti (born Don Luther Lee in 1942) is an African-American author, educator and poet. He is also well known as the publisher and operator of a black-themed bookstore. Madhubuti was instrumental in the founding of Third World Press, the oldest independent black publishing house in the United States. He has published twenty-eight books and co-edited two volumes of literary works. Madhubuti has received the Distinguished Writers Award and the American Book Award. He has been honored by the Middle Atlantic Writers Association, African-American Arts Alliance and awarded fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the National Endowment for the Humanities. You can read more about Haki Madhubuti and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.