Tag Archives: christianity

The Spirit That Gives Her Church No Rest

SIXTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 16:9-15

Psalm 67

Revelation 21:10, 22—22:5

John 14:23-29 or John 5:1-9

Prayer of the Day: Bountiful God, you gather your people into your realm, and you promise us food from your tree of life. Nourish us with your word, that empowered by your Spirit we may love one another and the world you have made, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“….the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything and remind you of all that I have said to you.” John 14:26.

In Sunday’s lesson Jesus delivers a final address to his disciples before his arrest and execution. The clear implication of his promise that the Holy Spirit will teach his disciples everything is that they do not know everything yet. They will spend a lifetime struggling to understand the meaning of what they are about to witness. That is the story of the church. Like the disciples, we frequently get Jesus wrong. Like some of Jesus opponents, we “search the scriptures” thinking that following its doctrines, teachings and rituals will lead us to salvation. We have often used the Bible as a weapon to shame, blame and exclude the sheep Jesus would bring into his fold. We forget that the command to love God and the neighbor is the one through which the law and the prophets must always be interpreted. That is why we need the Holy Spirit. The Spirit teaches us what we have failed to learn and reminds us of the important things we tend to forget.

If everything we needed to know were clearly expressed in the Bible, there would be no need for the Holy Spirit. The church could simply remain on autopilot until the end of time. But the Bible is not that sort of book. Like a complex ecosystem, it is a rich and varied literary work woven together from the preaching, storytelling, prayers, visions and reflections of people living under all manner of different cultural, political and religious circumstances. Just as complex and varied as the scriptures are the ever changing circumstances in which human beings find themselves as we travel through time from one generation to the next. Yet the church believes that, throughout our human journey, God continues to speak to us through these ancient texts. The Spirit of God still surprises us with new insights into our modern world seen through the lens of scripture as it is preached and lived by disciples of Jesus in each new era.

Not everyone is comfortable with a church on the move. A lot of us would like a solid institution with fixed rituals and unchanging doctrines. There are times, I admit, when I long for the church of my childhood. There are days when I would love to take shelter in a place that is immune from change, filled with static icons and permeated with familiar hymns. I frequently crave a place that is peaceful, safe and predictable. Unfortunately for me, and for everyone else looking for peace, safety and predictability, the church is not such a place. The Book of Acts shows us a church that is constantly growing, changing and being transformed. Perhaps the title “Acts of the Apostles” is a misnomer. The book might better be entitled “Acts of the Holy Spirit.” Rather than leading the church, the apostles seem to be frantically trying to keep up with the Holy Spirt who has her own ideas about what the church is and where it is going.

I can sympathize with the many people who have said to me over the last decade in response to our enlarged understanding of human sexuality, our increased focus on issues of justice and peace and the diversification of our hymns and liturgy, “Pastor, I feel as though my church has left me behind.” I get that. But here is the thing. This is not “my” church. It is the church of Jesus Christ. I have no right to tell Jesus to keep the church where it is or make it over to my liking. The church does not exist to serve my needs. It exists to witness in word and deed to God’s gentle reign of justice and peace addressed to our planet and inaugurated by the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. To do that for a world that is forever evolving and changing, the church must be flexible, open to transformation and ready for renewal.  

Of course, there are risks involved with change. As I said, the church frequently gets Jesus wrong. I hardly need to catalogue all the instances in which the church has distorted, misrepresented and suppressed the gospel of Jesus Christ. “Though with a scornful wonder, this world sees her oppressed; with schisms rent asunder and heresy’s distressed” as the popular hymn goes.[1] The virus of heresy is an ever present danger to a living body like the church. Yet it is important to recognize that heresy is not transmitted exclusively by novelty. Most often, I believe, heresy consists in traditional teachings and understandings that have been retained long after time, knowledge and deeper reflection have proven them to be erroneous. Last Sunday’s lesson from Acts revealed to us how Saint Peter’s view of God’s salvation as limited to Israel had to be abandoned to accommodate the new found faith of the gentile, Cornelius, and the outpouring of God’s Spirit on his household. Similarly, I believe that, through the faithfulness and persistent witness of LGBTQ+ folk, the church is beginning to recognize that our teachings on human sexuality have distorted the gospel and placed a stumbling block in the way of people hearing the call of Jesus and the pull of the Holy Spirit into the communion of saints.

In our creeds, we confess belief in the holy catholic church. On its face, that seems odd. It is obvious why faith is required to believe that God created heaven and earth, that Jesus was incarnate and born of the virgin Mary and that God raised him from death. But you hardly need faith to believe in the church. You can love the church or hate it, but you cannot deny that it exists. There is more, however, to the creedal declaration than that the church exists. We also confess that it is “one, holy, catholic and apostolic.” Viewing the church in all its schismatic permutations and institutional corruption, you would never guess that the Holy Spirit is at work in this mess striving to unite the disciples of Jesus into one Body. It is not always evident through the church’s witness that the depth of God’s love for the world is revealed in the cross of Christ or that God’s determination to redeem it is demonstrated in Christ’s resurrection. But faith maintains that the Spirit is indeed at work in this very messy, very sinful and very divided church to accomplish God’s redemptive purpose for the world. That is why the old hymn continues, “Yet she on earth has union with God, the Three in One, and mystic sweet communion with those whose rest is won.”[i]

The church in which I grew up was not the same as the church of the New Testament. The church of today is not the same as the church in which I grew up. I fully expect that the church of tomorrow will not be the same as the church we know today. I cannot predict what the church of the future will look like. I am confident, however, that the Spirit will continue to be in the church, sometimes encouraging it, sometimes rebuking it, sometimes calling it back from error, sometimes enlightening it with new insights and always keeping it tethered to its Lord and the reign of God for which he lived, died, rose again and continues to live.

Here is a poem about the continuity of the church owing to the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

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


[1] “The Church’s is One Foundation,” Evangelical Lutheran Worship Hymn # 654(c. 2006 by Evangelical Lutheran Church in America; pub. by Augsburg Fortress) Lyrics by Sammuel J. Stone; music by Sammuel S. Wesley.


[i] Ibid.

Love too Big to Keep Indoors

FIFTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 11:1-18

Psalm 148

Revelation 21:1-6

John 13:31-35

Prayer of the Day: O Lord God, you teach us that without love, our actions gain nothing. Pour into our hearts your most excellent gift of love, that, made alive by your Spirit, we may know goodness and peace, through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” John 13:34-35.

At this moment, Russian Orthodox Christians and Ukrainian Christians, both of whom were baptized into Christ Jesus, the same Lord who gave them the commandment to love each other, are killing each other. The governing administration of the United States, most members of which flaunt their Christian identity, terrify our immigrant neighbors with arrest by masked goons, incarceration, deportation and family separation. Preachers like Franklin Graham, Paula White, Mark Burns gush about the love of Jesus out of one side of their mouths while preaching hate against gay, lesbian and transgender persons out of the other. Vile and amoral people like convicted criminal Roger Stone and disgraced Army Lt. Gen Michael Flynn cloak their racist and antidemocratic propaganda champaigns with a thin veneer of Christian window dressing. Looking at us, would you ever guess that we are disciples of the one who called us to love one another as he loved us, that is, to the point of giving his life? Do we look even remotely like the community whose love for one another reflects the love God has for the world into which he sent the Son? Is it any wonder that the church has lost a truckload of credibility in recent years?

I know this is not the complete picture. I know that there are millions of Jesus’ disciples in all branches of the church catholic who are in so many ways seeking “to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with God.” Unfortunately, though, the work of single individuals, the efforts of single congregations and even single denominations cannot carry the cross of faithful witness to the world or even be heard over the cacophony that is American Christianity. We need desperately to witness as one holy, catholic and apostolic church to Jesus and the reign of God for which he lived, died and continues to live.

My forty plus years of ministry have convinced me that most congregations are good at loving one another, caring for one another and meeting the needs of their own. Taking Jesus’ words in today’s gospel out of their narrative context might lead one to believe that this is enough. It is sufficient that a community of disciples care for its own and practice love within the confines of the church. Let us be honest, that alone is no easy task. The church is made up of people we would not necessarily choose as friends. Jesus, however, has chosen them. They are precious to him and so they must be to us as well. Our fellow disciples might not be people who are particularly easy to get on with. They might not even be people we like. Still, we are tasked with loving them. Living together as a caring community might seem like challenge enough.

But it’s not enough. In the first chapter of John’s gospel we read that Jesus is the “light that enlightens everyone.” John 1:9. John 3:16 declares that God loved the world so much that he sent the Son into the world to save it. Jesus announces that he is the light of the world. John 8:12. Jesus prays that his disciples be one, not for their own sake, but that “the world may believe” God sent him. John 17:21. The disciples are sent out into the world just as Jesus was sent to announce and bear witness to God’s redemptive mission of salvation for the world. John 20:21. Jesus calls his church to public ministry in a world which, though very much beloved by God, is nonetheless hostile to God’s gentle reign of justice and peace.

Sometimes it seems as though our public ministry conflicts with our efforts to promote a loving and harmonious congregational culture. Too many times pastors and congregational leaders sidestep opportunities for public support of immigrants facing deportation and family separation, support for LGBTQ+ persons facing increasing marginalization and violence, support for efforts to confront, name and oppose racism and discrimination, all in the interest of maintaining peace within the flock. I believe, however, that a vigorous public witness is also good pastoral medicine. Xenophobia, homophobia and racism are diseases of the soul. These spiritual contagions are as lethal to the hearts and minds of those infected as they are to the lives of those victimized by the harmful conduct they inspire. Leaders who bring their congregations into the arena of public discourse will, in addition to giving voice to the good news of Jesus to a troubled world, lance the spiritual boils afflicting their members and open the way to healing.

Of course, it is possible that the risk, scandal and public criticism resulting from public witness will offend and drive away some members of our churches. I strongly suspect that Peter’s baptism of the gentile Cornelius and his household recorded in our lesson from Acts drove some of the faithful out of the church. The inclusive reach of the gospel that recognizes no national border, is indifferent to citizenship, documentation, racial identity and sexual orientation is inherently threatening to sinful people like us, who seek shelter behind such humanly erected barriers. But the kind of love to which Jesus calls us is too big, too powerful and too broad to be confined within our own insular communities. The love to which Jesus calls us jumps the fences we build and unites us to our neighbors living on the other side. The church must not settle for anything less.

Here is a poem by priest, activist and poet Daniel Barrigan reflecting on the inclusive love of Jesus that “compels” all on the margins to come to him.

The Face of Christ  

The tragic beauty of the face of Christ
Shines in the face of man;

The abandoned old live on
in shabby rooms, far from comfort.
Outside,
din and purpose, the world, a fiery animal
reined in by youth. Within
a pallid tiring heart
shuffles about its dwelling.

Nothing, so little, comes of life’s promise.
0f broken men, despised minds
what does one make-
a roadside show, a graveyard of the heart?

Christ, fowler of street and hedgerow
cripples, the distempered old
-eyes blind as woodknots,
tongues tight as immigrants’-all
taken in His gospel net,
the hue and cry of existence.

Heaven, of such imperfection,
wary, ravaged, wild?

Yes. Compel them in.

Source: Selected & New Poems, (c. 1973 by Daniel Berrigan, pub. by Doubleday & Company, Inc.) p. 80. Daniel Berrigan was born May 9, 1921, in Virginia, Minnesota. He entered the Jesuit novitiate at St. Andrew-on-the-Hudson, New York in August 1939 and graduated in 1946. Thereafter, he entered the Jesuit’s Woodstock College in Baltimore graduating in 1952. He was ordained the same year and appointed professor of New Testament studies at Le Moyne College in Syracuse in 1957. Berrigan is remembered by most people for his anti-war activities during the Vietnam era. He spent two years in prison for destroying draft records, damaging nuclear warheads and leading other acts of civil disobedience. He also joined with other prominent religious figures like Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, the Rev. Richard John Neuhaus and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. to found Clergy and Laity Against the War in Vietnam. In February of 1968 he traveled to North Vietnam and returned with three American prisoners of war he convinced the North Vietnamese to release. Berrigan died on April 30, 2016 of natural causes at a Jesuit health care facility in the Bronx. He was 94 years old.

Revelation, Nationalism and Electing a New Pope

FOURTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 9:36-43

Psalm 23

Revelation 7:9-17

John 10:22-30

Prayer of the Day: O God of peace, you brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus Christ, the great shepherd of the sheep. By the blood of your eternal covenant, make us complete in everything good that we may do your will, and work among us all that is well-pleasing in your sight, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands.” Revelation 7:9-10.

There are any number of ways to proclaim the Easter message through the lessons for this Sunday. God’s power over death is graphically illustrated in the raising of Tabatha through the ministry of Saint Peter. Of course, the twenty-third psalm opens up a portal into life’s journey through times of peace and plenty, threats from hostile forces and into the valley of shadow, accompanied always by the Shepherd whose faithfulness perseveres even in the face of death. In the gospel lesson, Jesus declares that God’s gift to Jesus’ sheep is eternal life and that no one can snatch those sheep out of his Father’s hand. Finally, the lesson from Revelation gives us a glimpse at God’s ultimate future in which all nations, tongues and peoples are united in joyful worship and praise. Though I think a preacher could go in any one or more of these angles, I am drawn this week to Revelation.

As I said last week, the Book of Revelation has been subject to some egregious hermeneutical malpractice throughout history. Rightly understood, John of Patmos’ visions provide hope and encouragement to seven struggling, marginalized and often persecuted communities of faith. They are not, as so many preachers of pre-millennial ilk contend, a jigsaw puzzle that, properly put together, will disclose how, when and under what circumstances the world will end. John writes to assure his churches that, small and insignificant as they might feel themselves to be, they are the first fruits of God’s new heaven and a new earth. It is not the predatory beasts representing imperial authority, wealth and power who prevail in the end. When all is said and done, the multitude “from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” are found worshiping the Lamb who was slaughtered. The future belongs to worshipers of the Lamb, not those who pursue and rely upon raw imperial and economic power.

In a world where nationalism is on the rise and fascism is now mainline American politics, the message of Revelation is, as I said last week, more relevant and urgent than ever. In a political climate where the words, “America first” are on the lips of so many, the church needs to speak a firm and unequivocal “no.” America is not first in any sense whatsoever. The reign of God is first. Loyalty to the Lamb is first. One cannot recite the Pledge of Allegiance out of one side of the mouth while confessing the Apostles’ Creed out of the other. You either believe in one holy, catholic and apostolic church that relativizes all national, tribal, ethnic boundaries, or you put loyalty to these identities over and above your allegiance to Jesus and the reign of God he proclaims.

American believers, as I have often said before, generally lack the conceptual tools to distinguish between patriotism and faith. When John F. Kennedy addressed concerns about his Catholic faith and whether it might compromise his loyalty to America during his 1960 presidential campaign, he asserted that he would not be influenced by the Vatican and that, if elected, he would fulfill the responsibilities of the presidency without reservation. To be fair, Kennedy was responding to a pervasive suspicion on the part of many Americans that the Roman Catholic Church was out to subvert American democracy and surreptitiously infuse its faith through government channels. He wanted to make clear that he was not a political agent of the Vatican. But I believe he went further than a disciple of Jesus should go when he vowed he would not be influenced by his church. Can a follower of Jesus ever promise not to be influenced, formed and subject to Jesus and the community of faith to which that disciple belongs?

To his credit, Kennedy at least recognized that loyalty to the United States was distinguishable from loyalty to Christ and his church. That distinction is altogether lost on vice president J.D. Vance who stated recently that “as an American leader, but also just as an American citizen, your compassion belongs first to your fellow citizens….That doesn’t mean you hate people from outside of your own borders, but there’s this old-school [concept] — and I think it’s a very Christian concept, by the way — that you love your family, and then you love your neighbor, and then you love your community, and then you love your fellow citizens in your own country, and then, after that, you can focus and prioritize the rest of the world.”[1] This is a classic articulation of what some have termed, “Christian Nationalism.” There is, however, nothing Christian about it. It is simply plain old nationalism with a little Christian window dressing.

This week the cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church convene in conclave to elect a successor to Pope Francis. Should we protestants care? Is it any of our business? I believe it is. At our best, we Lutherans understand ourselves, not as a separate church, but as a confessing movement within the church catholic. There is, we believe, one church. For all of its many faults and shortcomings (all of which can be found within our own protestant faith communities), the Roman Catholic Church is the one Christian communion that, more than any other Christian body, transcends national borders, including a wide variety of “tribes and peoples and languages.” The Bishop of Rome has a huge platform from which to address our planet’s existential threats of climate change, thermonuclear war, increasing wealth disparity and authoritarian rule with the liberating good news of Jesus and the just and gentle reign of God he proclaims. All disciples of Jesus should be praying that the Holy Spirit will guide the cardinals in their deliberations to the selection of a humble, wise and courageous leader to speak from that platform.

That said, we are mindful that the cardinals are not electing the messiah. The new Pope will almost certainly not be “progressive” enough to satisfy many of us mainline protestants whose denominations have ordained women for decades, welcome LGBTQ+ folk and champion reproductive rights. A few thoughts on that score. First, the positions taken by the Roman Catholic Church on these issues are no different than those held by the Lutheran churches in which I grew up just five decades ago. It took our church centuries to arrive at the broader and more inclusive points of view we hold today. Is it realistic to expect everyone else’s opinions on these same matters to turn on a dime?

Second, whatever our official positions may be, the reality on the ground is often quite different. My own ELCA maintains what is, in effect, an apartheid system with respect to welcoming LGBTQ+ folk. There are “reconciling in Christ” churches that are openly safe and welcoming. But churches that do not so identify? They might be welcoming, but they might not. Women still face congregational skepticism, compensation inequity and obstacles to positions of leadership in our church. In short, our actual practice often falls short of our public witness.

Finally, I know many lay and pastoral leaders in the Roman Catholic Church who are working tirelessly to enhance the standing of women, broaden the church’s understanding of sexuality and build ecumenical bridges to other faith communities. I am old enough to remember being in their position within my own church as it moved at a snail’s pace opening public ministry to women, welcoming gay and lesbian couples as full participants and developing a compassionate approach to reproductive rights. We can and should support the Roman Catholic Church in its bold witness to God’s love for the earth and God’s special concern for the poor so elequently expressed by Pope Francis. At the same time we need to support those within that church seeking to reform it. After all, we protestants, especially those of us who identify as Lutheran, know well that we are all together in the process of reformation. We do not all arrive at the same place at the same time, whether as faith communities or individuals. In the meantime, we travel together by the light given us toward the end envisioned by John of Patmos, a vision that shapes, transforms and redeems our lives.

Here is a poem by Jones Very reflecting on the new heaven and earth to which John bears witness.

The New World

The night that has no star lit up by God,
The day that round men shines who still are blind,
The earth their grave-turned feet for ages trod,
And sea swept over by His mighty wind,
All these have passed away, the melting dream
That flitted o’er the sleeper’s half-shut eye,
When touched by morning’s golden-darting beam;
And he beholds around the earth and sky
That ever real stands, the rolling shores
And heaving billows of the boundless main,
That show, though time is past, no trace of years.
And earth restored he sees as his again,
The earth that fades not and the heavens that stand,
Their strong foundations laid by God’s right hand!

Source: American Religious Poems, Harold Bloom and Jesse Zuba, editors; pub. by Library of America, Inc. p.  96. This poem is in the public domain. Jones Very (1813–1880) Though a minor figure in the American poetic pantheon, Very’s work was highly regarded by such prominent figures as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Bronson Alcott. He studied at Harvard Divinity School until he succumbed to religious delusions that lead to his expulsion. His style bears the mark of his devotion to William Shakespeare whose sonnets he often emulated. You can find out more about Jones Very and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.


[1] Word on Fire, In this article, Dr. Richard Clements makes a valiant, if ultimately unpersuasive defense of Vance’s remarks, referring to the concept, “ordo amoris” or “the ordering of loves.” Vance’s remark drew a pointed response from none other than Pope Francis who stated unequivocally that “Christian love is not a concentric expansion of interests that little by little extend to other persons and groups.”

  

When Being Church is Against the Law

THIRD SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 9:1-20

Psalm 30

Revelation 5:11-14

John 21:1-19

 Prayer of the Day: Eternal and all-merciful God, with all the angels and all the saints we laud your majesty and might. By the resurrection of your Son, show yourself to us and inspire us to follow Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Note: For copyright reasons, the NRSV is not available to Oremus. They are working on obtaining the necessary updated licenses, but until then are offering only the Authorized King James Version. Nevertheless, the texts I cite in this article will be taken from the NRSV.

“Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea, and all that is in them, singing, “To the one seated on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!” Revelation 5:12-13.

Last Friday the FBI arrested Milwaukee, Wisconsin circuit court Judge Hannah Dugan on allegations she helped an undocumented immigrant try to evade arrest. As I am not sure that a complete and reliable factual accounting of this incident has yet been made available, I will not comment on the legality of the act. But, legal or not, using our courts where people come for justice as a trap for arrest and deportation is immoral. Moreover, resisting immoral action, legal or not, is a moral obligation. We hear repeatedly, from both sides of the political spectrum, that “no one is above the law.” That is not quite true. One there is who is above all humanly constructed systems and institutions of authority, civil and religious. Jesus Christ alone is worthy “to receive all power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing.” To him alone “every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea” owe ultimate allegiance. Therefore, when it comes to an unavoidable choice between honoring Jesus’ command to love God above all else and to love one’s neighbor as oneself and obeying the laws of the land, “we must obey God rather than human authority.” Acts 5:29

I do not mean to say by this that human authority can be disregarded. Generally speaking, government is one of God’s gifts to humanity. By means of it, human society is ordered. Politics, rightly understood, are the means by which we corporately love our neighbors. Obedience to civil law is therefore our default position. That holds true even for laws that seem unnecessary, burdensome or ill conceived. Where there are procedures for repealing or amending bad law, faithful discipleship requires utilizing them to correct injustice, inefficiency and unnecessary aggravation. But laws should not be casually and arbitrarily disregarded.

The 1908 law allegedly violated by Judge Dugan reads as follows:

Subsection 1324(a)(1)(A)(iii) makes it an offense for any person “knowing or in reckless disregard of the fact that an alien has come to, entered, or remains in the United States in violation of law, conceals, harbors, or shields from detection, or attempts to conceal, harbor, or shield from detection, such alien in any place, including any building or any means of transportation.”  

The reach of this law is far from clear. Does a church operating a food pantry whose members know that many of its clients are undocumented and makes no effort to contact federal authorities “shielding them from detection?” Is a social services agency operating a homeless center knowing that many of its residents are undocumented guilty of “harboring” illegal aliens? If a pastor gives a person known or suspected to be undocumented a ride to the bus station, is she shielding an illegal alien from detection by “means of transportation?” “Does “harboring” include a church’s finding shelter for an undocumented family?

The law has not been so construed in the past, though it may be open to such a broad interpretation. Prosecutors have a wide range of discretion with respect interpreting laws and determining the scope of their reach. Law enforcement officers have discretion as to whether they will enforce the law in any given circumstance. The officer that pulls you over for speeding could well give you a ticket bearing a stiff fine and points on your license. But if you are sober, respectful and a first time offender, chances are you will get off with a warning, though there is no guarantee. Up until the present time, federal and state authorities have respected the work of churches, schools, courts and social agencies by refraining from prosecutorial and enforcement action against undocumented persons that would interfere with their operations. Such restraint was based mainly on pragmatism. It is well known that undocumented persons make up about 3.3% of the population. Prior to the tidal wave of hysteria stirred up over the last decade, these folks were not regarded as a threat and the government had no interest in mass deportations.

Things have changed, however, and that is putting it mildly. We now have a government that is committed to carrying out the “greatest deportation in history.” We have a vice president who takes pride in spreading outright lies about nonwhite immigrant communities for the purpose of turning public opinion against them. Global Refuge, a ministry of my Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, which received commendations from both Republican and Democratic administrations for more than half a century, was recently labeled a criminal enterprise by the governments unofficial Department of Governmental Efficiency.

We should have seen this coming. In 2019, during Trump 101, one of our pastors in training was deported. Betty Rendón, who fled from her native Columbia in 2004 as a refugee after guerrillas threatened the school she directed there, was arrested by ICE, detained and deported. At the time of her arrest, she was studying at the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago and commuting from the city to Racine, Wisconsin, to work part time as a lay minister in one of our churches. Her application for asylum was denied for lack of documentation leaving her with two options. She could either return to Columbia with her husband and daughter where the danger from which she fled still existed, or she could remain in the United States and hope for the best. Technically, Betty Rendón lacked legal standing to remain in the United States and was subject to deportation. But as with all statutes, enforcement is largely discretionary. Prosecutors need not prosecute and the police need not enforce every law every time against everyone under all circumstances. Indeed, they ought not to waste limited public law enforcement resources when so doing serves no public purpose.

To be clear, the government is responsible for ensuring public safety. To that end, arrest and imprisonment/deportation of persons, documented or not, posing a threat to the public is justified. But such authority must be exercised with care, pursuant to law and consistent with due process. The present administration’s fixation on deporting eleven-million people who are, to a greater degree than the general population, law abiding, tax paying and productive members of society is destined to conflict with the church’s ancient ministry of hospitality to strangers and sanctuary for refugees. It seems to me that we have reached a point at which we must decide whether we will be true to our baptismal covenant of discipleship with Jesus, or set that covenant aside and, by our silence and inaction, become complicit in our nation’s crimes against the most vulnerable among us. If, as my own church declares, walking with immigrants and refugees is a matter of faith, the church must be prepared for acts of defiance, civil disobedience-and the consequences that will surely follow.

Perhaps the greatest temptation facing us comes in the form of despair. What difference can an institutional church in decline hope make in a nation driven by big money and dirty politics? What can a small church struggling to meet its budget and take care of its own aging population do for its neighbors living in fear of violent arrest and deportation? What can one person do against systemic evil infecting all of society? These very sentiments are expressed by in the Hebrew Scriptures to the psalmist:

“Flee like a bird to the

mountains,

for look, the wicked have fitted their arrow to

the sting,

to shoot in the dark at the

upright in heart.

If the foundations are destroyed,

what can the righteous do?” Psalm 11:1-3.

The psalmist replies that “the Lord is in his holy temple,” that “His eyes behold, his gaze examines humankind,” that “his soul hates the lover of violence,” that “he loves righteous deeds” and that the “upright shall behold his face.” For this reason, despite the seeming victory of the wicked, the psalmist nevertheless declares, “In the Lord I take refuge.” Psalm 11:1.  

I believe the visions recorded by John of Patmos in the Book of Revelation have never been more relevant than they are for this day. I believe they offer a wealth of spiritual resources for a struggling church living in a hostile environment. Sadly, Revelation has been highjacked by pre-millennial sects fixated on figuring out when and how the world will end. That, however, is not John’s purpose. If you want to understand Revelation, you need to begin where it does, namely, with John’s letters to the seven churches of Asia Minor. There we are introduced to seven faith communities living in legal jeopardy on the margins of society, divided by false teachings and self-proclaimed prophets, discouraged and on the verge of disintegration. John of Patmos reminds them of their importance and assures them that their struggle to follow Jesus is of cosmic significance. His visions rip away the vail of futility shrouding his church’s spiritual vision. In graphic and lurid imagery, John shows his churches that history is not being driven by the brutal imperial regime of Caesar or Rome’s ruthless economy of greed and exploitation, all of which are symbolized by the grotesque predatory beasts described in his visions. To the contrary, the future belongs to Jesus, “the lamb who was slaughtered.” The churches’ struggle to remain faithful in their witness to Jesus through public testimony, mutual love for one another and service to their neighbors puts them on the side of the God whose determination to redeem a wounded and broken world will not be thwarted. That is as true in the twenty-first century today as it was in the first.

Faithful witness might appear to be futile. As poet Adrianne Rich points out, our resistance to evil, our efforts to protect and preserve what matters seems ineffective, weak and bound to fade with time. Still the faithful hold vigils and protests that seem to accomplish nothing, stand with refugees in danger of deportation when the law and public opinion are against them, work food pantries that cannot begin to satisfy the needs of the growing number of food insecure families. We do this because we know that the lamb who was slaughtered for doing the same has been raised and that to him belong all “blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”  

A Mark of Resistance

Stone by stone I pile

this cairn of my intention

with the noon’s weight on my back,

exposed and vulnerable

across the slanting fields

which I love but cannot save

from floods that are to come;

can only fasten down

with this work of my hands,

these painfully assembled

stones, in the shape of nothing

that has ever existed before.

A pile of stones: an assertion

that this piece of country matters

for large and simple reasons.

A mark of resistance, a sign.

Source: Poetry, August 1957. Adrienne Rich (1929-2012) was born in Baltimore, Maryland. She attended Radcliffe College, graduating in 1951. She was selected by W. H. Auden for the Yale Series of Younger Poets prize that same year. Throughout the 1960s, Rich wrote several collections of poetry in which she explored such themes as women’s roles in society, racism and the Vietnam War. In 1974 Rich won the National Book Award which she accepted on behalf of all women. She went on to publish numerous other poetry collections. In addition to her poetry, Rich wrote several books of nonfiction prose, including Arts of the Possible: Essays and Conversations (W. W. Norton, 2001) and What is Found There: Notebooks on Poetry and Politics (W. W. Norton, 1993). You can read more about Adrianne Rich and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

Transfiguration, Exodus and Their Anti-American Narratives

TRANSFIGURATION OF OUR LORD

Exodus 34:29-35

Psalm 99

 2 Corinthians 3:12 — 4:2

Luke 9:28-43

Prayer of the Day: Holy God, mighty and immortal, you are beyond our knowing, yet we see your glory in the face of Jesus Christ. Transform us into the likeness of your Son, who renewed our humanity so that we may share in his divinity, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

This story of Jesus’ Transfiguration is told also in the gospels of Matthew and Mark. It has a close parallel in John’s gospel where Jesus’ prayer to be glorified is answered by a divine voice like thunder. John 12:27-32. Each account is unique in the telling. I am struck by two details given to us in Luke’s account. The first has to do with timing. Matthew and Mark tell us that Jesus and the disciples ascended the mountain “after six days.” Thus, the Transfiguration would have occurred on the seventh day. The number seven is heavy with meaning in both the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament. It signifies completion, perfection and wholeness. At the dawn of time, God rested on the seventh day, having completed the work of creation. God commands us to do the same each seventh day or sabbath. The sabbath is a reminder that work has its limits. There will be an end to toil and struggle. Sabbath rest is a foretaste of God’s promised rest for a weary creation, a rest that knows no end.

Luke, however, has the transfiguration occurring “about eight days after these sayings,” these sayings being his admonitions for all who would follow him to “daily take up their cross.” Luke 9:23. One may take the number eight to signify not merely the completion and perfection of creation, but a new creation. We can perhaps hear an echo of the vision imparted to John of Patmos where God declares at the close of the present age, “Behold, I make all things new.” Revelation 21:5. The Transfiguration therefore points forward and back. Its glow reaches back to the dawn of creation and floods the Hebrew scriptural narrative. It also shines forward into the future illuminating the culmination of time where God is finally, “all in all.” I Corinthians 15:28. On the mountain of Transfiguration, time is enfolded into eternity. The lines of demarcation between past, present and future dissolve into God’s eternal now. The universal and seemingly irreversible process of death is universally reversed such that Moses and Elijah, two long dead figures whose lives were lived centuries apart, are seen conversing with Jesus and one another.

Luke’s account is also unique in another respect. Unlike Matthew and Mark, Luke tells us what Jesus, Moses and Elijah were talking about. They were discussing the “departure” Jesus was to accomplish at Jerusalem. The Greek word for “departure” employed by Luke is “exodos,” referring back to the book by that name and the story it tells of God’s liberation of Israel from slavery in Egypt. It is a remarkable story, not merely because it proved formative for Israel and continues to be so for Jews today, but also because it has no peer in ancient religion and mythology. This is not the story of a god who sits at the apex of a divinely ordained hierarchy topped by a king who reigns as the god’s representative through a standing army of subordinates with slaves at the base. The faith of Israel is not merely a metaphysical justification for an oppressive status quo. Exodus is the story of how the God of slaves and refugees turned the hierarchy of empire on its head by making of a people that was no people a nation governed by Torah, by precepts that apply equally to kings and servants. The land of promise was so called because it represented the promise of a different way of being human. It was a land where the poor, the widow, the orphan and the resident alien were not to be left on the margins but shown particular care and sustenance. The measure of this new nation’s greatness was to be its treatment of the most vulnerable in its midst in accordance with Torah.

It is perhaps owing to Luke’s insight that the church’s liturgy and hymnody have from the beginning woven our observance of Lent, Holy Week and Easter into the saga of Exodus and the Passover. Like the Exodus, the ministry of Jesus turns hierarchy on its head ignoring national, social, religious and class distinctions. He turns the imperial notions of glory as power, domination and victory on the field of battle inside out by his identification with the lowest of the low, by being executed as a criminal in the company of criminals. He embodied a preferential option for the “least” and most vulnerable in his life and death. God’s resurrection of Jesus was God’s stamp of approval on all that Jesus was, said and did. The way of taking up the cross is, contrary to historic measures of greatness, the way of life. It is a way now open all.

The feast of the Transfiguration prefigures Jesus’ Resurrection even as it stands at the precipice of our Lenten journey to the cross. It offers us a glimpse of the feast to come beyond lifelong struggles with our urge to dominate and control, our addiction to wealth and privilege, our bondage to the cycles of retribution and violence, our allegiance to the false gods of nation, race, blood and soil. The Transfiguration reminds all who spend their lives standing with LGBQT+ folk, the undocumented living in our midst, the sick insurers have deemed unfit to live and the homeless whose very existence is fast becoming a crime that they are on the right side of history. Though hated for their associations and persecuted by a government driven by racist hate, theirs is nevertheless the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Exodus story as well as the gospel narratives are in many respects Anti-American. They tell a story quite different from the narratives that dominate our American culture’s civil discourse, its politics and too much of its religion these days. Ours is a story that desperately needs retelling and, perhaps more importantly, living. God knows and we should know as well that those of us who claim to follow Jesus have often wandered off course. We have been seduced by ideologies that equate wealth with divine favor, violence with justice, exclusion with holiness, whiteness with rightness, patriotism with faithfulness, privilege with blessing and might with right. Yet somehow, as much in spite of us as because of us, the gospel narrative has survived. The light of the Transfiguration has flared up at critical times throughout history to renew the church, sustain it through difficult times and purify it from corruption. By God’s grace, the faithful witness of saints and martyrs and the power of the Holy Spirit, the “Old, Old Story of Jesus and His Love” remains for us to retell and relive.

Transfiguration

The sky was dark and overcast the day

we began our ascent to the top of that mountain.

Cold mist soaked our garments from without

as did the sweat of our weary bodies from within.

Up and up we followed in His footsteps,

each of us wondering how He knew the way

and how He could see the path through the

impenetrable fog all around us on every side.

Our hearts pumped frantically, our lungs gasped at the thinning air,

our aching limbs longed to fall motionless to the ground.

And so they did at long last when finally we reached the summit.

Broken with fatigue we lay down on the grass,

heedless of the cold and wet, leaving Him to His meditations.

Of what we saw-or thought we saw-when we awoke

I still cannot find words enough to tell the half of it.

His face shone like the sun as he conversed with the ancient ones.

The cloud enveloped us and brought us to our knees

with the power of a mighty ocean wave.

But most terrible of all was that voice driving

like a nail into our very souls these words:

“This is my Son, my Beloved. Listen to him.”

Small wonder we fell to the earth and hid our faces.

When at last we found enough courage to open our eyes

the cloud was once again cold drizzle and fog,

the voice silent, the ancients gone

and only He remained to lead us back to the plain.

Source: Anonymous

Speaking Truth to a Lynch Mob

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Jeremiah 1:4-10

Psalm 71:1-6

1 Corinthians 13:1-13

Luke 4:21-30

Prayer of the Day: Almighty and ever-living God, increase in us the gifts of faith, hope, and love; and that we may obtain what you promise, make us love what you command, through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

“When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove [Jesus] out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff.” Luke 4:28-29.

How does a worship service turn into a lynching? What could Jesus possibly have said to make the people among whom he grew up want to kill him? According to the account of Luke the Evangelist, everything went sideways when Jesus began speaking about God’s love and attention to outsiders. It was a widow of Zarephath, a city of pagan Phoenicia, that gave sanctuary to the prophet Elijah when he was a refugee fleeing persecution under the reign of the wicked King Ahab. It was Naaman, a general of Israel’s arch enemy Syria, who found healing and faith from the prophet Elisha. To be sure, God is the God of Israel. But God is not the possession of Israel. God’s love is for all people of every tribe and tongue. As Saint Peter would proclaim in Luke’s sequel, the Book of Acts, “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.” Acts 10:34-35. That message did not go down well with the good people of Nazareth.

Luke the Evangelist portrays Jesus as one who refuses to accept the distinctions of class, blood and soil through which people of his day found their identity. He scandalized the religious and respectable by dining with folks like Levi and Zacheus. But he could just as often be found eating in the home of civil and religious leaders. He had compassion on a leader of the military occupation of his own country and healed his servant. In an age when people feared to touch lepers for fear of being rendered unclean, Jesus touched them in order to make them clean. It is as though Jesus were blind to the “no trespassing” signs we erect to protect our “our people” from the corrupting influence of outsiders.

So, too, the church in the Book of Acts is constantly breaking down ethnic, cultural, religious and class barriers as it expands beyond Galilee and Judea into Samaria and from there into Greece, Macedonia, Asia Minor, Italy and beyond. It was not smooth sailing all the way. Tension and conflicts are reflected throughout the New Testament between Jewish believers and gentile newcomers. Though Paul affirmed that in Christ there is neither male nor female and accepted women as apostolic coworkers with him, it is clear the women struggled to find their voice and place during the formative years of the church. Paul’s pastoral advice on that score was sometimes less than helpful. Still, the church never abandoned its belief in and understanding of itself as a single body with wildly diverse members uniquely gifted for mutual service in pursuit of its mission of reconciling the world to God in Christ.

The church proved to be a destabilizing force, threatening to disrupt the Pax Romana maintained by the Roman Empire through the threat of violence embodied in the cruelest implement of death, the cross. Mary the mother of our Lord sings eloquently about the reversal of the imperial order, the mighty being cast down, the hungry filled with good things and the rich being sent away empty. Luke 1:46-55. Simeon predicts that the infant Jesus “is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed.” Luke 2:34-35. In the Book of Acts Paul and his associates are accused of having “turned the world upside down.” Acts 17:6. The very existence of this odd community of diverse persons practicing radical equality and showing no regard for rank, status or the emperor’s delusions of godhood threatened the legitimacy, authority and power of the imperial order, built up as it was on distinctions of race, class and citizenship. That accounts for the empire’s vicious and ultimately futile efforts to extinguish the church.

The stability of a hierarchy depends on everyone at every level being content with their place-or at least convinced that trying to rise above it is dangerous and certain to be futile. When those on the lower rungs begin to sense their power, begin to imagine a different arrangement and begin to doubt the religious, ideological and traditional glue that holds the hierarchical pyramid together, the structure begins to wobble. Those nearest the top panic because they have the furthest to fall. Panic breeds hysteria and hysteria produces violence. A lynching is seldom about its individual victims whose only crime is happening to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. It is, rather, a knee jerk reaction against a host of social fears and phobias. Lynching is a frantic effort to hold together a dying regime against a hurricane of change threatening to topple it. Both then and now, Jesus is that hurricane.

So here is the real deal. There are no hordes of lawless migrants made up of criminals and insane people storming across our southern border to invade our country. There is no deep state conspiracy to change the sex of school age children. Haitian immigrants are not eating American’s pets. How could anyone in their right mind believe such malarky? The simple answer is that they need to believe it. These baseless conspiracy theories help fragile people make sense of a world that is changing too fast for them. They see rising prices, more and more black and brown faces in their neighborhoods, schools and workplaces, more stores with signs they cannot read, fewer job opportunities in their communities and decaying towns and cities-and they are mad as hell about it. The lies, propaganda and hysterical rhetoric directed against migrants have been whipped up by our cynical leaders to a give a shape to our deepest fears, put a face on the monsters that terrify us and give us a neck around which to place the noose. Make no mistake about it, that is exactly what this “greatest deportation ever seen” is about. It is a government inspired and sponsored lynching. Migrants are the scapegoats for all that is wrong with America. And you can be sure that when all the undocumented migrants have been deported and America’s problems remain, there will be another scapegoat. There always is.

I read with dismay the pastoral letter from ELCA Bishop, Elizabeth Eaton on President Trump’s Executive Orders calling for mass deportations. To be clear, I appreciate the bishop’s addressing the issue and agree wholeheartedly with her analysis. But we need more than analysis at this point. We need truth telling and fearless preaching. The truth is that the Republican party, now fully controlled by Trump and the MAGA movement, has all the hallmarks of a hate group. See “Time to Declare the Republican Party a Hate Group.” It is time for the church to say so. For my part, I refuse to go on pretending that the GOP, as currently constituted, is just another political party functioning within America’s democratic system. I refuse to allow lies, slander, conspiracy theories and hateful ideology to be invited into serious moral deliberation. I refuse to participate in the normalization of bullying, intimidation and violence under the color of law. It is time to tell the powers that be “We must obey God rather than any human authority” and that we will resist governmental actions that harm our neighbors. Acts 5:29.

To all bishops and pastors, I have a hard word to say: You need tell your people who support Donald Trump and his party, “You are deeply loved by God. You are valued members of our church community. We love you dearly and that is why we need to tell you that by your support for this man and his followers you are grievously injuring your neighbors and scandalizing the Body of Christ. By your association and support, you participate in their hatred and cruelty. For your own sake and for the sake of Christ’s church, you need to repent and renounce your association with this evil movement.” If you are unwilling or unable to say this to your church, then for your sake, for the sake of the church and for the sake of the world, please step aside and make room for someone who can and will.

The gospel of Jesus Christ is good news. Lutheran’s like me are fond of saying that “God loves us just as we are.” However sinful we may be, God accepts us where God finds us. Nevertheless, God loves us too much to leave us there. That is why God’s Word speaks the truth that sets us free. John 8:32. Jesus loved the people of his hometown enough to tell them the truth they needed to hear-even when it turned them against him. This is not the mushy sentimental kind of love. It is what poet Sonia Sanchez calls “love colored with iron and lace.” It is love that seeks repentance, justice and restitution. The complete poem follows:

This Is Not a Small Voice

This is not a small voice

you hear     this is a large

voice coming out of these cities.

This is the voice of LaTanya.

Kadesha. Shaniqua. This

is the voice of Antoine.

Darryl. Shaquille.

Running over waters

navigating the hallways

of our schools spilling out

on the corners of our cities and

no epitaphs spill out of their river

mouths.

This is not a small love

you hear       this is a large

love, a passion for kissing learning

on its face.

This is a love that crowns the feet

with hands

that nourishes, conceives, feels the

water sails

mends the children,

folds   them    inside   our    history

where they

toast more than the flesh

where they suck the bones of the

alphabet

and spit out closed vowels.

This is a love colored with iron

and lace.

This is a love initialed Black

Genius.

This is not a small voice

you hear.

Source: Wounded in the House of a Friend, (c. 1995 by Sonia Sanchez; pub. by Beacon Press, Boston, Massachusetts). Sonia Sanchez (born Wilsonia Benita Driver in 1934) is an American poet, writer and professor. She is a leading figure in the Black Arts Movement. Sanchez has written several books of poetry. She has also authored short stories, critical essays, plays and children’s books. She received Pew Fellowship in the Arts in 1993. In 2001 she was awarded the Robert Frost Medal for her contributions to American poetry. You can read more about Sonia Sanchez and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

Rev. Jeremiah Wright was Right

For those of you who can still remember the election of 2008, one of the last in which we were assured that, whatever the outcome and however we might feel about it, there would be sanity in the Whitehouse, you will undoubtedly recall the Rev. Jeremiah Wright. Rev. Wright is now, like me, a retired pastor. He was formerly the senior pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago and the pastor of then presidential candidate Barak Obama. Trinity is a predominantly African American congregation and the largest one in the United Church of Christ, a predominantly white protestant church. Wright gained national attention in the United States in March of 2008 after ABC News disclosed the following quote from a sermon he preached in 2003 entitled “Confusing God and Government.”

“No, no, no. Not ‘God Bless America’; God Damn America! That’s in the Bible, for killing innocent people. God Damn America for treating her citizen as less than human. God Damn America as long as she keeps trying to act like she is God and she is supreme!”

Back in the days when journalism was a profession and broadcast news was considered a public service rather than an entertainment cash cow, there would have been at least an attempt to place this quotation in its proper context. But ABC news understands that the American attention span is brief and that sensational bites of “breaking news” grab attention and drive up ratings. Consequently, unless you did some investigative work of your own, you might have concluded, as Obama’s opponents clearly hoped you would, that Wright was simply on an anti-American rant and that Barak Obama’s membership at Trinity was proof that he shared Wright’s unpatriotic sentiments. If you have not already done so, I invite you to read the entire sermon of Jeremiah Wright. Below are my own observations.

Rev. Wright’s sermon, as the title suggests, dealt with the idolatry of nationalism. To put it simply, he was making the point that Americans tend to confuse the demands of government, patriotism and blind love of country for godliness and faithful discipleship. I have often preached and written about the same theme, most recently in my article, “Christ the King and the Religion of America.” Though his critics tried to brand Rev. Wright a terrorist, he makes clear in his sermon that violence is never the answer to injustice. He specifically condemned the practice of Muslim extremists who call for the murder of “unbelievers.” “War does not make for peace,” he told his congregation. “Fighting for peace is like raping for Virginity.” Wright was quick to point out, however, that his own country’s use of violence was equally unjustified:

“We can see clearly the confusion in [the Muslim extremist’s] minds, but we cannot see clearly what it is that we do….when we turn right around and say our God condones the killing of innocent civilians as a necessary means to an end.”

Wright went on to point out this country’s use of violence and oppression against the indigenous peoples of this continent, against the enslavement of African’s brought to this country in chains, against American support of notoriously oppressive leaders and their regimes. He then made the point that we blaspheme God, take God’s name in vain and distort God’s image when we invoke God to bless America, bless its wars and sanctify its oppressive acts:

“That we say God understands collateral damage, we say that God knows how to forgive friendly fire, we say that God will bless the Shock and Awe as we take over unilaterally another country – calling it a coalition because we’ve got three guys from Australia. Going against the United Nations, going against the majority of Christians, Muslims and Jews throughout the world, making a pre-emptive strike in the name of God. We cannot see how what we are doing is the same Al-Qaida is doing under a different color flag, calling on the name of a different God to sanction and approve our murder and our mayhem!”

So far, Rev. Wright is spot on. History is not mythology. This country’s genocidal wars against America’s indigenous peoples, the centuries of slavery that produced enormous wealth for the enslaver class, the invasion of Iraq grounded in false claims that it engineered the 9/11 attacks and was harboring weapons of mass destruction, along with the other examples of American violence Wright cites, are historical facts. Efforts to tell the story of our country without them amounts to a flat out lie. Portraying the Unted States as an “exceptional” nation uniquely blessed by God and its crimes as acts of heroism makes of this lie a shameful abuse of God’s name and image. This is the context of the offensive quote from Rev. Jeremiah Wright I cited at the outset.

Did Rev. Wright go too far in damning America? If he did, he was in distinguished company. The prophet Amos, for example, prophesied the destruction of his own country Israel and the violent death of its king. Isaiah warned his nation that it faced defeat and destruction. Jeremiah told his people that their capital city would be destroyed, their centuries old temple burned to the ground and their land taken away from them. Like the United States, Israel understood itself to be “exceptional,” and with far more justification. They were, in fact, chosen by God-but not to privilege, not to special divine treatment, not to blanket “blessing” regardless how they behaved. Israel (as well as far too many Christians) made the mistake of imagining that being chosen by God means being “first,” rather than the least of all and the servant of all. Of course, the United States is not God’s chosen people. But like all nations, it will be judged by how it treated the most vulnerable in its midst, the poor, the hungry, the persecuted, the refugee and the homeless. On that scale, the United States has a damnable record. As offensive, maddening and upsetting as this is, it is true. Rev. Wright is right to say so.

The Hebrew prophets did not hate their nation or their people. To the contrary, they loved them enough to tell them the truth. That is what you always do for someone you love. If Dad has a drinking problem, you don’t make excuses for him. You don’t get on the phone and tell his boss that he has the flu and can’t come in to work when, in fact, he is too hung over to make it to the bathroom to puke. You don’t humor him when he tells you that he just overdid it at the party last night where he tried to grope one of his coworkers in a drunken stupor and that it won’t happen again. You don’t smile and accept his excuses for failing to show up for graduations, weddings and other events important to his loved ones. People who chant “America love or leave it” are like enablers who stubbornly maintain, “My Dad, drunk or sober.” The latter is not love and the former is not patriotism. If you really love your father, you confront him with the truth. You point out to him that he has lost control of his life, that he is hurting the people he says he loves, that he is on a self destructive trajectory. You say what you have to say, however painful it might be, in order to give him the opportunity to change direction before it is too late. You do the same for your country, you tell it the truth it needs to hear to become the nation it claims to be.  

I managed to watch most of the inaugural ceremony of Donald J. Trump. I cannot say that I was overly shocked, angered or dismayed by anything the president or his acolytes said on that occasion. After a decade, my senses have grown accustomed to the stench from that river of sewage overflowing the MAGA cesspool. What I did find disheartening was the parade of well dressed and ornately robed Christian clergy sanctifying this ceremonial obscenity with prayers, scripture and flattery. There was, however, one pastor worthy of that title who stood well above this sorry assembly of clerical clowns. Episcopal Bishop, Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, publicly called Trump out to his face during a service at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC with these words:

“Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you, and as you told the nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now. There are gay, lesbian, and transgender children in Democratic, Republican, and independent families, some who fear for their lives. The people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings, who labor in poultry farms and meatpacking plants, who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shifts in hospitals, they may not be citizens or have the proper documentation, but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes and are good neighbors. They are faithful members of our churches and mosques, synagogues, gurdwara, and temples.

I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear their parents will be taken away, and that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands to find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land. May God grant us the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being, to speak the truth to one another in love, and walk humbly with each other and our God, for the good of all people, the good of all people in this nation and the world. Amen.”

Kudos to you, Bishop, for making the voice of Jesus heard in an arena where it has been altogether excluded, and that in the name of God. And kudos to you, Rev. Wright for having the courage and compassion to tell us the truth we need to hear. God send us more faithful, courageous and compassionate preachers for the sake of the church, for the sake of our nation, for the sake of the world!  

The Body of Christ and the Vanishing Common Good

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Isaiah 62:1-5

Psalm 36:5-10

1 Corinthians 12:1-11

John 2:1-11

Prayer of the Day: Lord God, source of every blessing, you showed forth your glory and led many to faith by the works of your Son, who brought gladness and salvation to his people. Transform us by the Spirit of his love, that we may find our life together in him, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

“Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” I Corinthians 12:4-7.

In the world at large, it has never been evident that there is such a thing as the common good. The notion has always lived uncomfortably in the American psyche next to our uncritical faith in self interest driven capitalism, whose philosophical father, Adam Smith famously observed:

“It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker, that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest. We address ourselves, not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities but of their advantages.”  Wealth of Nations, I:II, p.26,27.

Consequently, society is not governed by a common search for the greatest good for all people, but the quest of each individual seeking their own personal good without regard for others or society as a whole. Indeed former British Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher went so far as to question whether society even exists, asking rhetorically “….who is society? There is no such thing! There are individual men and women and there are families and no government can do anything except through people and people look to themselves first.” Isabel Paterson, journalist, author, political philosopher and a leading libertarian thinker brings this line of reasoning to its logical conclusion, stating:

“There is no collective good. Strictly speaking, there is not even any common good. There are in the natural order conditions and materials through which the individual, by virtue of his receptive and creative faculties and volition, is capable of experiencing good.”[1]

Saint Paul makes unequivocally clear that, when it comes to the church, the Body of Christ, the opposite is true. Individual good, not the common good, is delusional. Just as it is ridiculous to suggest that a hand or a foot can live independently from the rest of the body, so it is equally implausible that any individual believer can thrive apart from full participation in the community of disciples. I Corinthians 12:14-20. With all due respect and contrary to the above mentioned authorities, community is real, there is a common good and reaching it requires the unique gifts, talents and perspectives of all its members.

Rev. Lester Peter, a seasoned pastor and prison chaplain who preached at my ordination service over four decades ago, gave me the following advice. “Peter, just remember that everybody you see in your congregation on Sunday morning is there because Jesus called them to be there. Each one of them is there because they have a gift, an insight, a talent that the church needs. Each one of them has something to teach you that you cannot learn from anyone else.” I would be less than honest if I were to deny that I have struggled with Lester’s and Saint Paul’s words at times. More than once I have looked at a member of one of my congregations and mused to myself how much easier my job would be without them and their antics. I suspect Paul felt the same way about some members of the Church at Corinth, a congregation with more problems than you could shake a stick at. Nevertheless, Paul can say to this sad puppy of a church, “Now you are the body of Christ.” I Corinthians 12:27. Not, “You should be the body of Christ,” or “If you ever manage to get your act together you might be the body of Christ,” but “You are the body of Christ.” So act like it!

Sometimes, the church gets it right. In the church of my childhood, I was blessed through the ministry of a teenager named Gary. Gary helped with our Sunday School and he was the only teenage boy I knew who showed any interest in kids my age. My church friends and I didn’t think much of Sunday School, a time just slightly more tolerable than the church service. But we lived for the fifteen minutes between the end of Sunday School and the start of the service during which Gary played tag, kick ball and hide and seek with us. He listened to our stories and laughed at our silly jokes. I don’t remember exactly when I learned Gary was what in those days we called “mentally retarded.” (Thankfully, this pejorative term has been removed from polite and civil discourse.) What I do know is that Gary showed to me the care and attention Jesus showed to children. He made me and my friends feel welcome and included. In our congregation, Gary was not a social problem to be solved or a drain on the rest of society. He was a gifted member of the body of Christ building up that body with bonds of friendship. We would not have been the community we were without him. Gary may well be one of the reasons I am still in the church.

Increasingly, we are living in a world that acknowledges no common good, a world in which the only good is my good, a winner takes all world where everyone else’s gain is my loss, a world in which “kitchen table issues” dominate (read my kitchen table), a world too small for people of the wrong race, the wrong accent, the wrong language, the wrong documentation or the wrong religion. In this world dominated by diffuse self interests, disciples of Jesus are called to be a community witnessing to a radically alternative way of being human. We are a community that asks not, “What is wrong with this person that doesn’t seem to fit in here?” but rather, “What is wrong with us that we cannot discern this person’s unique gifts to our community?”

Here is a well known poem by John Donne that serves as the antithesis to individualism, populism, xenophobia and all of the other hateful ideologies that deny the unity of the human family.  

No Man is an Island

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee. 

Source: This poem is in the public domain. John Donne (1571-1631) was an English poet, scholar, soldier and secretary. Despite his great education and poetic talents, Donne lived in poverty for several years, relying heavily on wealthy friends. He spent much of the money he inherited from his family on womanizing and travel. In 1601, Donne secretly married Anne More, with whom he had twelve children. In 1615 he was ordained an Anglican deacon and then, reluctantly, a priest. Donne did not want to take holy orders but did so because the king ordered it. Under Royal Patronage, he was made Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral in London. Donne is considered the preeminent representative of the metaphysical poets. His poetical works include sonnets, love poems, religious poems, Latin translations, epigrams, elegies, songs and satires. He is also known for his sermons. You can read more about John Donne and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.


[1] Paterson, Isabel The God of the Machine, (c. 1943, Van Rees Press, New York, NY)

On Baptism

BAPTISM OF OUR LORD

Isaiah 43:1-7

Psalm 29

Acts 8:14-17

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Prayer of the Day: Almighty God, you anointed Jesus at his baptism with the Holy Spirit and revealed him as your beloved Son. Keep all who are born of water and the Spirit faithful in your service, that we may rejoice to be called children of God, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
   I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
   and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
   and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the Lord your God,
   the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” Isaiah 43:1-3.

This passage taken from this Sunday’s first lesson from Isaiah is close to my heart. I first discovered it when I was still a teenager negotiating that stormy patch of water between childhood and the adult world. On days when it seemed as though life was as bleak as life can get (it doesn’t take much to get you there when you are a teen), these words from the prophet seemed to promise light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel. Sometimes, that is all you need.

Sesle and I chose this passage as one of the lessons for our marriage liturgy. By this time, with the benefit of a seminary education, I had a clearer understanding of these words. I knew that they were spoken by a prophet of the sixth century to the people of Israel newly liberated from Babylonian exile and given the opportunity to brave a long and dangerous trek through the desert wilderness back to their homeland. Israel’s position felt similar to the one Sesle and I found ourselves to be in. We each were emerging from a past of life experiences that had formed us. But now we were setting out on a journey into the future that would be shared. I had had enough experience within my own family to know how fragile marriages are, how vulnerable families are to heartache, tragedy and loss. I have known many men and women better than me whose marriages ended in divorce. I figured that the God who saw Israel through its journey across the wilderness to a new existence could be trusted to be with Sesle and me as we embarked on our new life together.

This day of the church year on which we celebrate the Baptism of Jesus is also profoundly significant to me. Both of my two daughters, born just shy of a year apart, were baptized on this feast day. When I baptized my eldest daughter, I began the sermon by announcing that Sesle and I, after prayerful consideration, were putting her up for adoption. It was an acknowledgement that infant baptism amounts to surrendering custody of one’s child to God. As parents of a baptized child, Sesle and I were now simply legal guardians, babysitters if you will, of a child who would be raised, mentored and formed by God’s Spirit. We were releasing any hopes, dreams and plans we might have had for our daughter, knowing that the mystery of her life would now unfold under God’s guidance and direction. Our role as parents would be to provide support and assistance in her discernment.

When my second daughter was baptized, I announced that we had in our midst a hardened, unrepentant sinner and that I would name her. That sinner was, as you may have guessed, my infant daughter. I pointed out that sin is less about acts than it is about our natural inclination to be completely self absorbed, indifferent to the needs of others and wholly fixated on our own. A baby is the quintessential sinner. Through socialization, it learns that its own well being depends on considering the interests of others and sometimes putting those interests ahead of its own. Yet even this is arguably a self interested calculation. Moreover, in spite of my best intentions, my daughter would likely learn, along with everything good I try to teach her, my prejudices, misconceptions and cultural biases. She was destined to inherit a position of unearned privilege in the midst of an inequitable society. That is why baptism begins with a renunciation of “the devil and all the forces that defy God,” “the powers of this world that rebel against God” and “the ways of sin that draw you from God.” Discipleship with Jesus is a life long struggle of resistance against these demonic powers and a continuing practice of learning to trust God, proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made and work for justice and peace.” Liturgy of Holy Baptism, Evangelical Lutheran Worship.

When you are a pastor baptizing your own children, you can get away with shenanigans like these. I wouldn’t recommend as a matter of course springing them on an unsuspecting extended family on the day of a baby’s baptism. Some members of my own family found the above remarks a little unsettling. Still, I think the Baptism of our Lord presents a great opportunity for talking about baptism, a serious matter that suffers from an excess of “cute.” Mary and Joseph got a preview of Jesus’ baptism in last Sunday’s gospel when Jesus, at the tender age of twelve, stayed behind in Jerusalem. After three days of frantic searching, they found him in the Temple about his “Father’s business.” That was a graphic reminder to them that Jesus was not their own, that he was part of something bigger than his family, his community and his nation. He is, as we hear in this Sunday’s gospel, God’s Son.

To remember your baptism is to be reminded that you are not your own. It is to be reminded that life is not supposed to turn out as expected. It is to understand that when your plans and expectations fail, it does not mean that you have failed. Saint Paul tells us that “all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28. Too often we have taken that to mean that all things work together for our own personal good or for what we want or think we need. In fact, however, the “good” to which the apostle refers is the good of God’s redemptive purpose for the world. Jesus’ life unfolded for the good of the world and God’s promised reign of justice and peace, but he was born in a stable to a couple forced to flee as refugees from political persecution and was put to death as a criminal at a young age. That hardly comported with the hopes and dreams of his parents, his people and his disciples. It may not even have comported with Jesus’ own hopes and dreams. Nonetheless, Jesus’ obedient life, faithful death and glorious resurrection worked to complete God’s redemptive purpose for all creation.

As Saint Paul points out, in a culture that worships wealth and power, glorifies violence and equates bullying with strength, the life to which Jesus calls us appears as “foolishness.” I Corinthians 1:25. The way of Jesus paints a stark contrast to the way of the American Dream of wealth, comfort and security. By remembering our baptism, we are reminded by the God who adopts us as beloved children that we are better than what our culture tells us we are. We are more than what our imaginations can conceive. The totality of who we are cannot be known until such time as Christ is all in all and we know as we are known. Suffice to say, our lives, whatever verdict the world might pronounce on them, are each of infinite importance to the God who calls us by name. In them, God is bringing to completion God’s own purpose.  

Here is a poem by teacher and pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer composed during his imprisonment touching on that point.

Who am I?

Who am I? They often tell me
I stepped from my cell’s confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a Squire from his country-house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I used to speak to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.

Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
equally, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were
compressing my throat,
yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person to-day and to-morrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am Thine!

Source: Letters and Papers from Prison, by Dietrich Bonhoeffer (c. 1953 by SCM Press). Dietrich Bonhoeffer was born in 1906. He studied theology at Union Theological Seminary in New York City and at Berlin University where he became a professor of systematic theology. At the outbreak of World War II, Bonhoeffer was on a lecturing tour in the United States. Against the advice of his friends and colleagues, he answered the call to return to Germany and lead the Confessing Church in its opposition to National Socialism. Bonhoeffer was arrested in 1943 and imprisoned at Buchenwald. He was subsequently transferred to Flossenburg prison where he was hanged by the Gestapo just days before the end of the war. To learn more about Dietrich Bonhoeffer, his books and poems check out this website.

Divinity of Humanity

SECOND SUNDAY OF CHRISTMAS

Jeremiah 31:7-14

Psalm 147:12-20

Ephesians 1:3-14

John 1:1-18

Prayer of the Day: Almighty God, you have filled all the earth with the light of your incarnate Word. By your grace empower us to reflect your light in all that we do, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“And the Word became flesh…” John 1:14.

Over the years my prayers, preaching and teaching have shifted, slowly and almost imperceptibly, away from a singular focus on the cross and redemption to the miracle of the Incarnation and what the Eastern Church calls “deification” or “theosis.” This, I believe, has nothing much to do with humans attaining divine attributes like “omniscience,” “omnipotence” and “omnipresence.” It is more like Saint Paul’s admonition last week in our lesson from Colossians, urging us “to clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” Colossians 3:12. It involves having “the same mind…in you that was in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 2:5. This is a possibility now precisely because the Word became flesh, God became human-and remains so.

I do not mean to say that the cross and redemption have lost any degree of significance in my understanding of the faith. Rather, they have taken on a deeper and more profound meaning as my appreciation of the Incarnation has grown. The Incarnation, as John the Evangelist tells us, was God’s intent for humanity and the world from the beginning. The cross illuminates the terrible price God was willing to pay in order to carry through with this intent in spite of human sinfulness and the worst depravity of which we are capable. However much selfishness, cruelty and indifference is manifest in human existence, God remains indwelt there. Every human being is therefore the image and temple of God. The desecration of sanctuaries, temples and cathedrals can never desecrate or diminish God. But each act of violence, unkindness and indifference inflicts wounds on the body of the resurrected Christ.

It is for this reason that racism, defamation of migrants, vilification of LGBTQ folk, criminalization of begging and homelessness, pouring arms into the conflicts in Gaza and Ukraine, prosecuting church organizations providing humanitarian aid to immigrants at the border are not merely immoral. They are frontal attacks on the Word that became flesh. That is why, when asked which commandment is first of all, Jesus responded that the first commandment requires us to “love the Lord []our God with all []our heart, and with all []our soul, and with all []our mind.” Note well, however, that Jesus adds that the second is like it, namely, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Matthew 22:34-40. The two commandments are, in fact, one. To love God is to love one’s neighbor and all who love their neighbors are loving God, whether they know it or not. On these two commandments, Jesus insists, rest the entire law and the prophets. Matthew 22:40. Jesus was frequently compelled to point out that the Sabbath and, indeed, the entire law was created to serve the needs of people, people were not created in order to follow rules.  

Much of Christian ethical reflection has been grounded in readings of the scriptures that are not grounded in the miracle of the Incarnation, but based rather on casuistic reasoning from specific biblical texts, often torn from their context. Such reasoning has given us hat mandates for women, exclusion of women from positions of church leadership, prohibitions against long hair for men and particularly cruel treatment of gay, lesbian and transgender persons. Then, too, there are the many prohibitions that find no basis in Scripture but reflect belief in a god obsessed with rule keeping and eternally incensed with the slightest infraction. I refer to the prohibitions against dancing, drinking alcohol, playing pool, playing card games, two piece bathing suits for women and other forbidden practices. Such religion makes of the law a ruthless slave master rather than a servant of humanity for facilitating justice, reconciliation and peace. [1]  

Making the Incarnation the starting point for ethical reflection is transformative. No longer is God’s assuming human flesh a distasteful necessity for dealing with human sin. Instead, it represents the culmination of God’s eternal purpose for humanity and for all creation. The cross, then, is a twofold revelation. In the first place, it reveals the depths of human depravity in our rejection of the very best God has to give us. Second, and more importantly, it reveals God’s determination not to be deterred by the world’s rejection of the Son. God will not be drawn into the vortex of retributive violence by which we are enslaved. Rather than responding to our violence with divine retribution, God responds by raising up the rejected Son and offering him to us again. The cross and resurrection is a triumph of mercy over judgment in the heart of the Triune God, God’s refusal to be driven from the flesh God assumes. At our very worst, God remains Immanuel, God with us. It is this belief that enables disciples of Jesus to meet hostility with hospitality, abuse with forgiveness, violence with a witness for peace, hatred with understanding, the darkness of fear with the light of hope.  

Here is an incarnational poem/prayer by Michel Quoist dwelling on the Word that sanctifies human flesh.

The Pornographic Magazine

Lord, I am ashamed of this magazine.

You must be profoundly hurt in your infinite purity.

The office employees all contributed to buy it.

The boy ran to fetch it,

And pored over it on the way back.

Here it is.

On its shining pages, naked bodies are exposed;

Going from office to office, from hand to hand-

Such foolish giggles, such lustful glances….

Empty bodies, soulless bodies,

Adult toys for the hardened and the soild.

And yet, Lord, man’s body is beautiful.

From the beginning you, the supreme artist, held the model

          before you, knowing that one day you would dwell in a

          human body when taking on the nature of man.

Slowly you shaped it with your powerful hands; and into its

          inert matter you breathed a living soul.

From then on, Lord, you asked us to respect the body, for the

          whole body is a conveyer of the spirit,

And we need this sensitive instrument that our spirits may

          commune with those of our brothers.

Words, in long processions, lead us toward other souls.

A smile on our lips, the expression in our eyes, reveal the soul.

The clasp of a hand carries our soul to a friend,

A kiss yields it to the loved one.

The embrace of the couple unites two souls in quest of a new

          child of God.

But it was not enough for you, Lord, to make of our flesh the

          visible sign of the spirit.

Through your grace the Christian’s body became sacred, the

          temple of the Trinity.

A member of the Lord, and a bearer of this God,

Supreme dignity of this splendid body!

Here, Lord, before you tonight, are the bodies of sleeping men:

The pure body of the tiny child,

The soiled body of the prostitute,

The vigorous body of the athlete,

The exhausted body of the factory worker,

The soft body of the playboy,

The surfeited body of the rich man,

The battered body of the poor man,

The beaten body of the slum child,

The feverish body of the sick man,

The painful body of the injured man,

The paralyzed body of the cripple,

All bodies, Lord, of all ages.

Here is the body of the fragile new-born baby, plucked like a ripe

          fruit from its mother.

Here is the body of the light-hearted child who falls and gets up,

          unmindful of his cuts.

Here is the body of the worried adolescent who doesn’t know that

          it’s a fine thing to grow up.

Here is the body of the grown man, powerful and proud of his

          strength.

Here is the body of the old man, gradually failing.

I offer them all to you, Lord, and ask you to bless them, while

          they lie in silence, wrapped in your night.

Left by their sleeping souls, they are therefore before your eyes,

          your own.

Tomorrow, shaken from their sleep, they will have to resume

          work.

May they be servants and not masters,

Welcoming homes and not prisons,

Temples of the living God, and not tombs.

May these bodies be developed, purified, transfigured by those

          who dwell in them,

And may we find in them, at the end of their days, faithful

          companions, illumined by the beauty of their souls,

In your sight, Lord, and in your mother’s,

Since you both belong to our earth,

And all the bodies of men will be the guests in glory of your

          eternal heaven.

Source: Quoist, Michel, Prayers (c. 1963 Sheed & Ward, Inc.) Translated by Agnes M. Forsyth and Anne Marie de Cammaille. Michel Quoist (1921-1997) was ordained a priest in1947. A French Catholic of the working-class, Quoist reveled in presenting Christianity as part of gritty daily reality, rather than in forms of traditional piety. He was for many years pastor to a busy city parish in Le Havre, France serving a working class neighborhood and developing ministries to young people through Catholic Action groups. Prayers, the book from which the above poem was taken, has been translated from the original French into several languages including Hungarian, Polish, Chinese, Portuguese, Swedish and English.


[1] Coupled with this misconception is the over simplistic rendering of the doctrine of “substitutionary atonement,” a rendering of which is spelled out in the tract popular among Evangelicals entitled “The Four Spiritual Laws.” According to this theory, God is in an impossible position. Being completely righteous, God cannot abide the slightest infraction of God’s rules, the punishment for which is eternal damnation. Yet God also desires to show mercy and forgiveness to God’s creatures, but without compromising God’s perfect righteousness by simply overlooking human sin. By taking on flesh in the person of Jesus who, in turn, takes the wrap for our sins, God is now able to forgive human sin while retaining God’s perfect righteousness. Problem solved. While the math works, the theory seems to indicate that God is helplessly trapped in the mechanics of God’s own metaphysic. Like the sympathetic meter maid who would love to give you a pass on parking illegally for just a second, but cannot do it because, alas, the ticket has been written out and is now in the system, so God cannot forgive sin without a payment of some kind. Yet the proposition that God cannot forgive sin without a suitable punishment strains credibility. If my Mom could forgive my breaking an antique lamp she inherited from Grandma that could never be replaced, I find it hard to believe God is incapable of being similarly magnanimous. For more on this, see “The Cross-Because Love Hurts.”