Tag Archives: god

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.

Love as an Act of Resistance

SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Genesis 43:3-11, 15

Psalm 37:1-11, 39-40

1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50

Luke 6:27-38

Prayer of the Day: O Lord Jesus, make us instruments of your peace, that where there is hatred, we may sow love, where there is injury, pardon, and where there is despair, hope. Grant, O divine master, that we may seek to console, to understand, and to love in your name, for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” Luke 6:27.

“We are to serve our enemy in all things without hypocrisy and with utter sincerity. No sacrifice which a lover would make for his beloved is too great for us to make for our enemy. If out of love for our brother we are willing to sacrifice goods, honor and life, we must be prepared to do the same for our enemy. We are not to imagine that this is to condone his evil; such a love proceeds from strength rather than weakness, from truth rather than fear, and therefore it cannot be guilty of the hatred of another. And who is to be the object of such love, if not those whose hearts are stifled with hatred.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, (c. 1951 by SCM Press, Ltd.), p. 165.

At age eleven, I hated Keith for good reason. Three years older than me, he and his younger friends made it their mission to make my life as miserable as possible. Twice Keith beat me to a pulp. Once he sneaked into my yard and cut the heads of the garter snakes I kept as pets (Yes, I know. Keeping snakes is pretty weird). He would routinely show up with his crew of followers in the ally in back of my house to hurl insults and rocks at me. He was probably the worst enemy I ever had.

Standing up to Keith on the field of battle was out of the question. But there are other ways to fight back. Keith’s home was a block away, separated from my yard by a vacant lot. From the safety of the underbrush, I could lob rocks, dirt clods and insults at Keith whenever I found him in the front yard. Sometimes he gave chase, but I knew the vacant lot like the back of my hand, every nook, cranny and hiding place. He soon grew tired of my little game of whack-a-mole and retreated home. I remember well the day I found him flirting with a neighbor girl he was obviously trying to impress. From my hiding place I made loud smooching noises that made his love interest laugh-and that only made Keith more livid. Of course, I knew I would pay dearly if Keith ever caught me out in the neighborhood. Consequently, whenever I left my yard, I kept a wary eye out for him.

In retrospect, I think it must have been an unhappy summer for both of us. I longed to be able to go where I wanted without always looking over my shoulder. I have no doubt that Keith longed to be left in peace to work on his dirt bike or chat with his love interest without harassment. But the conflict had gotten bigger than both of us. I think we both wanted it to end, but we didn’t know how. On one of the many occasions on which I was badgering Keith from the shelter of the vacant lot, I made an insulting remark about his mother. Suddenly, Keith exploded with an energy I had never seen before. He raced across the street to the lot as I hunkered down in my hiding place. “F@#k you Cotton Tail (his derogatory name for me)!” he shouted. “You don’t know nothing about my mom. Nothing!!! I swear to God that I’ll kill you the next time I see you!” Keith spent more time than usual hunting me down that day, but to no avail.

I think that was probably the last time I went out to harass Keith. Part of my reluctance was fear. I more than half believed he might kill me or make me wish he had. But there was something deeper. I knew that, somehow, I had inflicted a deeply hurtful blow. I had wounded Keith in way deeper than he had ever hurt me. To say that I now loved him would be a stretch. But for the first time, I saw him as something other than a bully. I saw him as someone who had a mom, someone who could be hurt. Tormenting Keith no longer seemed clever, funny or adventurous. I saw it for what it really was. Just plain mean.

Keith and I never became friends, but our mutual animosity gradually cooled as we both grew older. By the time he was in high school and I was in junior high, we were waving and greeting one another. Keith remained in our hometown after college and medical school where he started his dental practice. If I ever get back there again, perhaps I will pay him a visit. I would like to know what triggered his hostility against me. Was it because he, being short for his age, saw in a younger kid who was nevertheless four inches taller a threat or a challenge to his manhood? Was I just an easy target because I was weird. (You must admit, a kid who keeps garter snakes as pets is clearly on the far side of normal). I would also like to know how my remarks upset him. What was going on with his mother and his family? I am not interested in obtaining an apology or offering one, though one is probably owed on both ends. I only want to understand and, perhaps, be understood.

More than a few insightful people have said that the definition of an enemy is a person whose story we do not know. When threatened by hostility, real or imagined, we have a natural tendency to ascribe the most sinister of motives. In reality, however, there is always a lengthy and complex road that has led all of us to who, what and were we are today. Our lives have been shaped, for better or worse, by family, church, peers and education. We are the products of every life experience, every triumph and trauma, success and failure, friendship and betrayal. If we are to follow Jesus’ commands to love our enemies and “do unto others what we would have done unto us,” then we need to learn our enemies’ story. We need to get ourselves into their skin and view the world through their eyes. Only then does it become possible to love one’s enemies, forgive them and begin to address their needs.

I do not mean to suggest that any amount of trauma, tragedy or abuse one suffers can justify or excuse one’s own acts of cruelty, violence or abuse. But knowing where the enemy’s hostility is coming from can enable us to avoid needlessly triggering it and give us the tools to diffuse it. More importantly, knowing one’s story makes empathy possible. Knowing the pain, fear and loneliness from which hostility springs can help us become more understanding, generous and forgiving. We discover in our enemy’s story common ground and opportunities for building bridges and opening doors for justice to be done, reconciliation achieved and peace made.

Love is less a matter of feeling than of action. You don’t have to like your enemies to love them. You don’t have to respect their opinions, ideologies and bigotry. And under no circumstances must their abusive behavior be enabled by reluctance to provoke them. While Jesus absolutely enjoins his disciples from taking revenge against their enemies, employing violence against them or usurping the prerogative of God alone by executing judgment upon them, he does not advocate acquiescing in the face of their aggression. There are numerous manners by which hostility can be resisted nonviolently and constructively. Jesus’ entire life was one of resisting the forces of oppression, violence and cruelty with the power of love. He employed parables that deconstructed his opponents’ prejudices and opened their minds to a deeper and richer reality. He exercised radical hospitality embracing all who sought his help, begged for healing and came posing questions. He could be found in the banqueting halls of religious and civic leaders and in places where notorious sinners and outcasts gathered. He embraced even his torturers with a prayer for their forgiveness. In essence, love is the most potent act of resistance to evil. It is a refusal to be drawn into the vortex of retribution that knows no end. It is a refusal to allow the enemy to dominate space in our minds and hearts. It robs our enemies of the power to transform us by their malice into a mirror image of their hatred. Love breaks the cycle of tit for tat, leaving the enemy powerless.

Jesus’ command to love one’s enemies requires that we be truthful with them. Truthful speech is the deepest expression of love. It is no act of love to allow a bigot to continue in his bigotry. It is no act of love toward your congregation to smooth over or ignore abusive and bullying behavior by some members against others. It is no act of love for one’s nation to remain silent in the face of injustice. Love does not always inspire love in return. Sometimes it sparks hostility and resentment. But disciples of Jesus know that the truth, painful as it can sometimes be, sets one free. Disciples know that they have been saved from self destructive behavior by the Truth that is Jesus. How can they withhold that lifegiving Truth from those they are called to love?

Here is a poem by Frank Chipasula love for country that reflects the sort of clear eyed love that is truthful, passionate and hopeful.

A Love Poem for My Country

I have nothing to give you, but my anger

And the filaments of my hatred reach across the border

You, you have sold many and me to exile.

Now shorn of precious minds, you rely only on

What hands can grow to build your crumbling image.

Your streets are littered with handcuffed men

And the drums are thuds of the wardens’ spiked boots.

You wriggle with agony as the terrible twins, law and order,

Call out the tune through the thick tunnel of barbed wire.

Here, week after week, the walls dissolve and are slim

The mist is clearing and we see you naked like

A body that is straining to find itself, but cannot

And our hearts thumping with pulses of desire or fear

And our dreams are charred chapters of your history.

My country, remember I neither blinked nor went to sleep

My country, I never let your life slide downhill

And passively watched you, like a recklessly driven car,

Hurrying to your crash while the driver leapt out.

The days have lost their song and salt

We feel bored without our free laughter and voice

Every day thinking the same and discarding our hopes.

Your days are loud with clanking cuffs

On men’s arms as they are led away to decay.

I know a day will come and wash away my pain

And I will emerge from the night breaking into song

Like the sun, blowing out these evil stars.

Source: O Earth, Wait for Me. (c. 1984 by Frank Chipasula; pub by Ravan Press). Frank Mkalawile Chipasula (b. 1949) is a Malawian writer, editor and university professor. He earned his B.A. from the University of Zambia, Lusaka and, following graduation, worked as a freelance broadcaster for the Malawi Broadcasting Corporation while studying English and French. In 1978 Chipasula went into exile in the United States and studied for his M.A. in Creative Writing at Brown University. He earned a second M.A. in African American Studies at Yale University and earned his Ph.D. in English literature from Brown University in 1987. His first book, Visions and Reflections, published in 1972 was the first published poetry volume in English by a Malawian writer. You can read more about Frank Chipalusa and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

Why I Am Not A Progressive

SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Jeremiah 17:5-10

Psalm 1

1 Corinthians 15:12-20

Luke 6:17-26

Prayer of the Day: Living God, in Christ you make all things new. Transform the poverty of our nature by the riches of your grace, and in the renewal of our lives make known your glory, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals
   and make mere flesh their strength,
   whose hearts turn away from the Lord…..

Blessed are those who trust in the Lord,
   whose trust is the Lord. Jeremiah 17:5,7.

The most direct reason I can give for not being a progressive is that my faith is in Jesus, not progress. Now let me unpack that for you. I have nothing against progress per se. Furthermore, I am thankful for what I believe most of us would agree represents progress. Polio vaccine is a great advance over the iron lung. Brown v. Board of Education is a great progressive advance over Plessy v. Ferguson. The ball point pen is an improvement over the quill and fountain pens. But I also believe that progress is tentative, uncertain and easily reversed. Witness the dismantling of USAID, the threatened dismantling of the department of education and the reversal of numerous regulations implementing civil rights hard won by the work of lawyers, legislators and community organizers from the 1940s to the present. Progress is a fragile thing. Once made, it can easily be unmade. Trusting it is a dicey proposition.

There is also, I believe, a degree of arrogance in self identifying as a progressive. It presumes that we know what progress is and that any person of good will can recognize and advance it. That presumption becomes particularly lethal when one’s perception of progress is entangled with religion. There is a line in an otherwise fine hymn in our Lutheran Evangelical Worship that sends shivers down my spine. The hymn celebrates the role of saints in the church and the various ways they fulfil their baptismal calling. The first line in the second verse is the one that gives me pause:

Some march with events to turn them God’s way;

some need to withdraw, the better to pray;

some carry the gospel through fire and through flood:

our world is their parish, their purpose is God.

“Rejoice in God’s Saints,” Text: Fred Pratt Green; Music, Music: C. Hubert H. Parry, published in Lutheran Evangelical Worship, #418.

Do we really know which way God is turning events? Is God’s purpose in history so crystal clear that we can with certainty align ourselves with it? The missionaries of the 19th century who rode the waves of colonialism into Africa and Asia did so with the firm conviction that the advance of “Christian civilization” into the lands of “heathendom” was “God’s way.” Make no mistake about it, they were persons of good will and intent. Many of them left behind family, possessions and comfortable lives to do what they believed to be God’s mission. The tragic consequences of the church’s partnership in the ruthless exploitation of colonized lands and peoples are all too evident today and constitute a dark episode in the church’s history. Lest we be tempted to look down our enlightened and sophisticated noses at these ancestors in the faith, we ought to be mindful that the next generation will likely see with a clearer eye the consequences of our own well meaning efforts to do God’s will. What blind spots, missteps and unintended results will they uncover?

The prophet Jeremiah warns us that “The heart is devious above all else; it is perverse—who can understand it?” Forty years of ministry have taught me how difficult it is to distinguish between a principled stand on an issue of importance and a stubborn need to be right. It is not always easy to distinguish between a desire to achieve a goal that furthers the mission of the congregation and the need to have something under one’s belt that counts as “success” in doing the work of a church perceived to be in decline. The confidence, trust and respect given the pastor of a congregation can easily go to one’s head. There is sometimes a fine line between ministering to the needs of another person and feeding those of your own. So, too, sincere efforts to bring needed change to society in the political realm are often sabotaged by ignorance, self interest and prejudices to which we are blind. What we imagine to be a push in the direction of progress frequently turns out to be fueled by self interest and destructive in its results.

But the prophet has more to give us than this dire warning. Jeremiah assures us that blessing follows all who trust in the Lord. Those words do not come easily from the prophet’s mouth. Jeremiah witnessed the conquest of his beloved country, the destruction of its holiest place and the loss of land it occupied for over five centuries. His was the task of speaking a word of hope and encouragement to exiles living as prisoners in the land of their conquerors. He saw first hand how human leadership, patriotism and religious conviction can be distorted in ways that lead to destruction. Jeremiah knew well that what the human heart deems progress often leads to catastrophic consequences.

But Jeremiah also knew that God’s judgment upon our misbegotten striving after progress is not God’s last word. While undue confidence in human endeavor brings curse, God responds to curses with blessing. Blessing followed a world plunged into violence so severe that it took a global deluge to curb it. Blessing found Sarah and Abraham, the wandering nomads, refugees and aliens living in the shadow of empire. God’s blessing to them endured and was passed on through the lives of their flawed, self seeking descendants. God blessed the descendants of Abraham and Sarah once again as they lived under the curse of slavery, making of them a free nation. Blessing followed Israel into exile and on its subsequent journey back to its homeland. The God who blesses can be trusted to continue blessing. But as it was in Jeremiah’s time, so it may be today. Blessing may lie on the other side of judgment. Perhaps we need to see everything we consider progress stripped away before we are able to recognize the better hope God has to offer us.

I don’t mean to say that we should give up on the United States, cease our efforts to advocate for justice or resign ourselves to the demise of democratic norms. These days are calling for even stronger witness and action on behalf of the most vulnerable among us and throughout the world. As disciples of Jesus, we need to keep doing what we have always strived to do, though, as Saint Paul would say, “do so more and more.” I Thessalonians 4:10. I believe, however, that what we do needs to be grounded in something bigger than restoring America, saving democracy or achieving any other goal we count as progress. Our witness and work needs to be to and for the reign of God-which is not the endpoint of our own notions of progress. The reign of God is so far beyond our comprehension that even Jesus could speak of it only in parables. The most we can say is that it consists of God being “all in all.” I Corinthians 15:28.

“All” is a very expansive word. It means that there is no person, place or thing God would exclude from the fabric of God’s new creation. The way of God does not always comport with our view of progress-which often comes at the expense of persons, animals, ecosystems, relationships and communities we neglect or deem expendable. God’s power is God’s patience. I think the philosopher, Alfred North Whitehead, captures something of what God’s way of establishing God’s reign entails.

“The sheer force of things lies in the intermediate physical process: this energy of physical production. God’s role is not the combat of productive force with productive force, of destructive force with destructive force; it lies in the patient operation of the overpowering rationality of his conceptual harmonization. He does not create the world, he saves it: or, more accurately, he is the poet of the world, with tender patience leading it by his vision of truth, beauty, and goodness.”[1]    

By contrast, we who call ourselves progressive are impatient. We think we know what the final project looks like and we want it finished soon. I can relate to that. When I was young, my father tried to interest me in building model cars. His aim was to teach me to follow directions, focus on detail and develop a sense of how automobiles work. For my part, I wanted to get the job done and the model on my shelf. Invariably, I ended up with left over parts. These I simply swept into the trash along with the packaging. The finished product, once painted, looked enough like the picture on the box to satisfy me. But God will not be so rushed. The persons we deem obstructions to progress are essential pieces of the patchwork quilt that is God’s new creation. God will have no left over parts, even if it means the project takes longer and must be halted, reversed or even torn down in order to include a part that we in our haste for closure have neglected. That may not look like progress, but it surely is grace.

Here is a poem by Jacqueline Woodson speaking on behalf of some casualties of progress, parts left out of American history, American opportunity and the American Dream.

February 12, 1963

I am born on a Tuesday at University Hospital

Columbus, Ohio,

USA—

a country caught

between Black and White.

I am born not long from the time

or far from the place

where

my great-great-grandparents

worked the deep rich land

unfree

dawn till dusk

unpaid

drank cool water from scooped-out gourds

looked up and followed

the sky’s mirrored constellation

to freedom.

I am born as the South explodes,

too many people too many years

enslaved, then emancipated

but not free, the people

who look like me

keep fighting

and marching

and getting killed

so that today—

February 12, 1963

and every day from this moment on,

brown children like me can grow up

free. Can grow up

learning and voting and walking and riding

wherever we want.

I am born in Ohio but

the stories of South Carolina already run

like rivers

through my veins.

Source: Brown Girl Dreaming (c. 2014 by Jacqueline Woodson, Pub. by Penguin Press) Jacqueline Woodson was born in Columbus, Ohio, but grew up in Greenville, South Carolina and Brooklyn, New York. She is the author of over thirty books for children and young adults. Her honors include the Jane Addams Children’s Book Award, the Coretta Scott King Award, the Los Angeles Times Book Prize and the Newbery Honor. She received the Margaret A. Edwards Award for lifetime achievement, the St. Katharine Drexel Award and the Anne V. Zarrow Award for Young Readers’ Literature. You can find out more about Jacqueline Woodson and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.


[1] Whitehead, Alfred North, Process and Reality (c. 1979 by The Free Press) p. 346.   

How Long?

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Isaiah 6:1-13

Psalm 138

1 Corinthians 15:1-11

Luke 5:1-11

Prayer of the Day: Most holy God, the earth is filled with your glory, and before you angels and saints stand in awe. Enlarge our vision to see your power at work in the world, and by your grace make us heralds of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

 “How long, O Lord?” Isaiah 6:11.

This question posed by the prophet Isaiah is a constant refrain in the psalms of lament. Psalm 13 is a prime example:

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me for ever?
   How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I bear pain in my soul,
   and have sorrow in my heart all day long?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?” Psalm 13:1-2.

The children of Jacob cried out, “how long must we suffer enslavement in Egypt before you fulfill the promise you made to Abraham and Sarah to bless us and give us a land of our own?” The answer, four hundred years. Israel cried out, “how long must we live as exiles in a foreign land?” The answer, seventy years. So, too, Isaiah answers the call to prophesy to the kingdom of Judah and is told that his people will only shut their eyes and stop their ears to his words. The more he preaches, the more resistant and hostile his hearers will become. Naturally, he asks “how long? How long must I go on speaking when no one is listening? How long must I put my life on the line speaking a word that makes no difference?” God’s answer is less than encouraging:

“Until cities lie waste
   without inhabitant,
and houses without people,
   and the land is utterly desolate;
until the Lord sends everyone far away,
   and vast is the emptiness in the midst of the land.” Isaiah 6:11-12.

If Isaiah had anything to say in reply to that, it is not in the record. But if I were in Isaiah’s shoes, I would be asking, “so what’s the point? If your warnings will not be heeded or your promises believed, why are you sending me on this fool’s errand?”

Isaiah lived during the twilight years of Judah’s existence as an independent kingdom. He saw Judah’s king abandon the faith of his ancestors and place his trust in a treaty with the brutal empire of Assyria, a treaty that required him to place images of the empire’s gods in the Temple of the Lord. It was a betrayal of Israel’s faith, but an act necessary to national survival in the world of realpolitik. In matters of state, the words of the prophet were deemed irrelevant at best and, at worst, seditious. I can hear his audience telling him, “Please pastor! Keep politics and social policy out of your preaching.”  

The prophet well knew Judah’s arrangement with Assyria was the first domino in a series of catastrophes that would bring destruction upon the land. His preaching, however, could not sway the people of his own time and place. The king continued to pursue his faithless course of action with the result that Judah was reduced to poverty through the payment of heavy tribute and its land devastated by destructive wars. The prophet failed to turn Judah from its faithless and self destructive ways. So, I wonder, what was the point?

Though it may not be immediately evident, there is some wildly good news for us here. And while it may have been cold comfort to the prophet Isaiah, I think that the answer to our question lies in the fact that the prophet’s words remain for us to read these twenty-five centuries later. They were invaluable to the nation two generations later languishing in exile, trying to understand what had happened to them and why. The prophesies of Isaiah inspired generations of Jewish believers for generations and helped them hold on to their faith through the darkest of times. They guided the earliest followers of Jesus in interpreting and understanding his life and mission. Perhaps Peter and his fellow apostles heard in Jesus’ call for them to follow him and become fishers for people an echo of Isaiah’s response to God’s call: “Here am I; send me!” Words of the prophet are engraved on the famous “swords to ploughshares” statue in front of the United Nations. As a later prophet in the tradition of Isaiah would point out, “The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.” Isaiah 40:8.

The lesson from Isaiah is a good word for people called to work that does not seem to make much difference. I remember Isaiah as I walk the beach picking up plastic bottles even as I know the world is dumping eight million pieces of plastic into the ocean each day. I think of Isaiah whenever I make what I know is a modest contribution to ELCA hunger relief or drop off a contribution to our church’s food pantry knowing that 25,000 people, including more than 10,000 children, die from hunger and related causes each day. I remember the call of Isaiah to preach to an unreceptive audience whenever I realize that my own preaching often seems like a whisper in a hurricane. In the end, it is for me to do what I can where I can with whatever I have, and for God to do with it what God needs done, where God needs it done and at the time of God’s choosing-which may or may not become clear within my lifetime.

Discipleship in an age of violence, racism, poverty, inequity and ecological crisis is not an easy calling. Yesterday I learned that our government is attacking, defaming and attempting to defund our ministries to the poor, the homeless, the sick and mentally ill. There is a real possibility that a legacy of ministry built up over eighty years will be erased with the stroke of a pen. I must say that I have never seen the like in this country before. Sometimes there is barely enough light for the next step forward. But none of this is new to the people of God. The saints before us have traveled this road before. We know persecution, slander and intimidation. Our ancestors in the faith have left us a wealth of preaching, poetry, song and teaching to guide and encourage us. Through them God reminds us that God is Immanuel, “God with us.” So take heart my friends. We’re going to get through this.

Here is a poem by Mary Oliver about John Chapman, better known as “Jonny Appleseed.” He was a man who lived gently on the land and did what he could with what he had in the time given him to leave behind some beauty and sweetness in a violent world.

John Chapman

He wore a tin pot for a hat, in which
he cooked his supper
toward evening
in the Ohio forests. He wore
a sackcloth shirt and walked
barefoot on feet crooked as roots. And everywhere he went
the apple trees sprang up behind him lovely
as young girls.

No Indian or settler or wild beast
ever harmed him, and he for his part honored
everything, all God’s creatures! thought little,
on a rainy night,
of sharing the shelter of a hollow log touching
flesh with any creatures there: snakes,
racoon possibly, or some great slab of bear.

Mrs. Price, late of Richland County,
at whose parents’ house he sometimes lingered,
recalled: he spoke
only once of women and his gray eyes
brittled into ice. “Some
are deceivers,” he whispered, and she felt
the pain of it, remembered it
into her old age.

Well, the trees he planted or gave away
prospered, and he became
the good legend, you do
what you can if you can; whatever

the secret, and the pain,

there’s a decision: to die,
or to live, to go on
caring about something. In spring, in Ohio,
in the forests that are left you can still find
sign of him: patches
of cold white fire.

Source: American Primitive (c. 1978 by Mary Oliver, pub. Little Brown and Company) p. 24. Mary Oliver 1935-2019 was born in Maple Heights, Ohio. She was deeply influenced by poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay. Her work received early critical attention with the 1983 publication of a collection of poems entitled American Primitive. She is a recipient of both the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry and the National Book Award. You can read more about Mary Oliver and sample some of her other poems at the Poetry Foundation Website.

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 Unwritten Word

THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY

Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10

Psalm 19

1 Corinthians 12:12-31a

Luke 4:14-21

Prayer of the Day: Blessed Lord God, you have caused the holy scriptures to be written for the nourishment of your people. Grant that we may hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that, comforted by your promises, we may embrace and forever hold fast to the hope of eternal life, through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

The heavens are telling the glory of God;
   and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours forth speech,
   and night to night declares knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words;
   their voice is not heard;
yet their voice goes out through all the earth,
   and their words to the end of the world. Psalm 19:1-4.

This psalm is one of my all time favorites. It begins with a lyrical expression of the many and diverse ways God’s glory is reflected in God’s creative handiwork. Each day “pours forth speech” while “night to night declares knowledge.” Yet “though it goes out through all the earth,” theirs is not a speech readily intelligible to human ears. Still, for those who are attentive, the sunrise is not merely a daily occurrence. Each new day is like the beginning of a marriage, filled with joy, promise and hope. It is the starting point of a great race across the heavens by the strong yet benevolent athlete, God’s agent of life and growth whose warmth reaches every corner of the earth.

Creation has a good deal to teach us if only we have ears to listen. As Jesus points out, the flowers of the field and the birds of the air testify to God’s generosity and the confident faith in which God’s good gifts are to be anticipated and received. The mustard seed illustrates the tenacious growth of God’s reign. The wind is a symbol of God’s Spirit that blows where and when it wills with gifts of healing and renewal. The cycle of seedtime, growth and harvest are pregnant with illustrations of faith, patience, hope and resurrection. The world’s wonders do indeed tell the “glory of God” and “proclaim his handiwork.”

Halfway through, the psalm changes its focus from the witness of Creation to God’s self revelation in the Torah. While this might strike modern readers as abrupt and discordant, I believe the poet was intentional here. The psalmist understands the commandments of God to be woven into the very fabric of creation. Just as the sun chases away the darkness of night bringing light and warmth to the earth, so the law of the Lord “is perfect, reviving the soul.” Just as the heavens proclaim the glory of God, so “the commandment of the Lord is clear.” Just as the light of the sun enables one to see one’s way, so God’s law is ever “enlightening the eyes” of all who rely upon it to guide their ways.

The lessons for this Sunday are weighted heavily in favor of the written word. Jesus preaches from a text of Isaiah the prophet announcing the liberation of the poor and oppressed; the healing of the blind and lame. Under Nehemiah and Ezra, the Hebrew exiles returning from Babylon are instructed in Torah with an eye toward establishing a renewed community. As a Lutheran protestant whose tradition has always emphasized the primacy of the written word and which has been suspicious of “natural theology” or knowledge about God derived from the natural world, I have usually made the written word the focus of my preaching on this particular Sunday. But these days I often wonder whether perhaps I have neglected and undervalued creation’s witness to God’s beauty, wisdom and compassion. That is one of the reasons I have sought to bring my reflections into dialogue with the reflections of poets. Too much of our preaching, I believe, is doctrinally correct, theologically sound and analytically coherent but lacking in beauty and imagination.

Much of our worship and hymnody tends to denigrate creation. One of the hymns we used to sing in the church of my childhood begins as follows:

I’m but a stranger here, Heav’n is my home;

Earth is but a desert drear, Heav’n is my home.

Danger and sorrow stand Round me on every hand;

Heav’n is my fatherland, Heav’n is my home.[1]

In some respects, the hymn resonates. Sometimes life feels as though one were living as a stranger in a “desert drear.” To the degree it validates the experience of people struggling through dark times and assures them that they do in fact have a home in God’s infinite love, the hymn is a genuine expression of lament. Nonetheless, equating the entire earth with a lifeless desert through which one regrettably, though necessarily, passes as a stranger in order to reach one’s true heavenly homeland takes things too far. The earth is God’s good creation, a sphere of which we are an integral part and a place where we ought to feel at home. However many scars God’s human creatures have inflicted upon this good earth, it remains good and filled with wonders telling of God’s glory. Who are we to turn our noses up at it?

As children of the Enlightenment, we are engrained with a rationalistic mentality that regards the earth, its oceans, forests and varieties of non-human life as “things.” Mystery, awe and wonder have no place in the lab where nothing that cannot be empirically verified is true. In our economy, only that which can be monetized has value. For the machinery of capitalism, the world is only a ball of resources to be exploited for profit. The sun is neither a bridegroom nor an athlete. It is simply a ball of burning hydrogen. Plants are either crops to be devoured or weeds to be poisoned. Animals are bred for food, pets, game or, if sufficiently exotic, maintained on preserves for the wealthy to view on safari. In this stale, stuffy and confining worldview, poetic imagination languishes.

Our psalm for this Sunday, as well as the Bible as a whole, opens up a deeper understanding of reality. Through metaphor, simile, analogy, parable, song and story a much richer view of creation becomes visible. Through scriptural testimony to the holiness of the earth and its creatures, God’s glory is revealed in all of its wonder, beauty and power. By the power of the Holy Spirit and eyes to see and ears to hear sharpened by attention to the wonders all around us, that glory transforms our hearts and minds.

Here is a poem in which the poet looks beyond dead rationalism and seeks to discern speech that “pours forth” from creation.

Eavesdropping

Long years ago

I stood beneath

A group of firs

And heard the breeze

Whispering secrets that were hers.

For though I strained to comprehend

I couldn’t find within the wind

A single syllable or hint

Of what the hidden language meant.

But as I watched,

The ancient trees

Took up the issues in the breeze

And without words or any speech

Conversed among themselves.

And as each

Shared his sagacious view,

His branches swayed as hands will do

When beings of our race confer

On topics that their souls bestir.

The others rocked as if to bow

In reverence and to say just how

They’d never heard it said so well,

Then turned to hear another tell

Just how he thought the matter stood-

All of this in that darkened wood.

I was then a child of tender years

Eavesdropping on speech

Beyond young ears.

I’m older now with hairs of gray

But none the wiser to this day

Regarding the awful mysteries

Discussed that night by

The ancient trees.

Source: Anonymous


[1] “I’m But a Stranger Here” by Arthur S. Sullivan, published in the The Lutheran Hymnal (c. 1941 by Concordia Publishing House).