Emulating Jesus

Words have the potential for incredible power; power that can transform lives and the world we live in.  And it doesn’t take many words either.  Consider the impact these four statements have had on our world, even though each is less than fifteen words long: 

  “Be the change you want to see in the world.” – Mahatma Gandhi

  “What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

  “Do what you can, where you are, with what you have.” – Teddy Roosevelt

  “Your time is limited.  Don’t waste it living someone else’s life.” – Steve Jobs

In this morning’s reading from the Gospel of John we hear Jesus say fourteen words that have reshaped the course of history and human interaction: “A new commandment I give you: love one another as I have loved you.”  Spoken after diner in the upper room on Maundy Thursday and just hours before his arrest, trial, and crucifixion, this new command becomes the final teaching Jesus gives to his followers. 

If “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” forms the core basis of all Christian ethics, then “love one another as Jesus loves you” is the primary mark of discipleship.  In fact, Jesus says, “By this everyone will know you you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”  From reading the gospels, to considering the history of the Christian church, to casual observations of how we ‘believers’ get along with one another in our own day, it is obvious loving one another is no simple task. 

One of the most important projects I am a part of right now is gathering monthly with a multi-denominational, interracial group of clergy here in Suffolk.  We are sharing our stories and learning together more about what is happening in our community.  It interests me that our group is tempted to want to “produce” something for Jesus, something like say, a tent revival with music and preaching and an inflatable bounce house for kids.  It is an idea resting on solid biblical teaching: Jesus did say, “Go out into all the world making disciples and baptizing in my name.”  But today’s reading reminds us that how we live with one another is just as important to Jesus as what we say about him to others.  Inviting seekers into our Christian way and life is pointless if our fellowship is not characterized by the love Christ has for us.  I have said it before: our being (who we are as people of faith) is just as important as our doing.  What we do for Jesus always emanates from who we are together with Jesus.  For now, I believe the best thing our clergy group can do is allow our Christ-like love for one another to grow.  The bounce house can wait.

“Love one another as I have loved you.”  What exactly is Jesus asking us to do?  His actions form the foundation for our behavior toward one another, but how?  Let me suggest a couple of things this is not, as well as a possibility for what it is:

  Clearly Jesus is not calling us to mimic him.  To mimic is to copy someone’s mannerisms and expressions.  Since we have never met Jesus in the flesh it is impossible for us to mimic him.

  Obviously Jesus is not commanding us to impersonate him.  When we love one another as he loves us we are not trying to fool other people into thinking we are Jesus.

  Perhaps Jesus is commanding us to imitate him; to do something in the same way he did it.  But this too has problems.  Think about the setting for today’s reading.  Jesus has already acted out for the disciples what it looks like to love one another as he loves.  He stood up after the meal was finished, stripped off his cloths, wrapped himself in a towel, and performed the role of a servant by washing his followers’ feet.  Imitating this action would not be hard, but would it be effective?  Does the act of foot washing convey across all time and through all cultures what Jesus’ love is to look like?  I don’t suggest you walk into Wal-Mart, take off your clothes, wrap yourself in a towel, and offer to start washing feet (although I am curious as to what Judge Moore would say when you appeared before him in court).

So here is one final possibility: perhaps Jesus is calling us to emulate him.  People often treat imitation and emulation as interchangeable words, as if they meant the same thing, but they don’t.  Imitate means to do something in the same way as something or someone else.  Emulation is different.  If you are a stickler for words, you may be familiar with Paul Brian’s book Common Errors in English Usage.  In it he writes this:

People generally know what “imitate” means, but they sometimes don’t understand that “emulate” is a more specialized word with a purely positive function, meaning to try to equal or match.  Thus if you try to climb the same mountain your big brother did, you’re emulating him; but if you copy his habit of sticking peas up his nose, you’re just imitating him. 

Here is something else that may help to clarify the difference.  Italian Renaissance artists believed the best way for a young artist to learn how to paint was to copy in exacting detail the works of a great master.  This work of imitation gave the artist a foundation upon which to step out in order to create his or her own unique style.  This process, rooted and grounded in the master’s work, but expressive of the young artists’ individual talent and perspective, is what emulation looks like.

Chris Goslow, a pianist and composer, encountered this distinction in his own life and wrote about it on his blogsite:

I got mixed up over the difference between learning from those I admired and thinking that I should try to be JUST LIKE them.  In other words, I confused imitation with emulation.  Ultimately, I found that trying to follow in someone else’s footsteps does not work.  Instead, I have found that I must follow my own creative path, even as I’m inspired by learning from others.  It is the key to creative happiness and fulfillment.

When Jesus says, “You are to love one another as I have loved you,” he is commanding us to emulate him; to take his example and make it our own by putting our own unique stamp on it – loving as Jesus loved in a way that is true and authentic to who we are as a created and beloved child of God.

Years ago at a Vestry meeting at a previous church I served, a person brought up an exciting new idea.  He had learned of a church in Tennessee where a group of men got together every Saturday morning and offered to do basic maintenance for parishioners’ cars – things like change the oil, fill the fluids, check the belts, adjust air pressure… that kind of thing.  It is, in my estimation, a wonderful way to emulate Christ’s love and that Vestry thought it would be a great ministry for us to offer to our parish.  Then came the crucial question: who in our church likes to work on cars?  The answer: no one.  Then the question became this: what do we like to do?  It was not our call to imitate the ministry of the church in Tennessee.  It was our call to emulate their example by finding our own unique way to live out Christ’s teaching.

Through this morning’s baptisms we welcome four new people into the Christian faith and life.  They are now a part of our wonderful fellowship of disciples who seek to emulate Jesus’ love for one another.  Though our prayers we will ask God to fill them with the holy and life-giving Spirit.  We will ask God to teach them to love others in the power of the Spirit.  And we will ask God to send them into the world in witness to God’s love.  And while they will be filled with God’s Spirit, not one thing about their flesh and bones will be changed.  They will continue to be who they are and act in ways unique to who God has created them to be.  They won’t mimic, impersonate, or even imitate what it means to be a Christian.  They will emulate it by being the Christian only they can be.

Like a young Italian Renaissance artist, if you are going to love others as Christ loves you, you will need to spend some time imitating what you see in Jesus.  But this must give way to emulation as you grow in your sense of self and calling.  Only you can be you.  Only you can manifest Christ’s love in the way you do.  Do you believe in yourself enough to do this?  Do you value yourself enough to create your own unique way to love others as Jesus loves you?

 

Tabitha

Yesterday, along with 650 other people, I attended the ordination of nine deacons who will serve our diocese as well as the Diocese of Virginia.  I wore this stole, which I was given at my ordination - although I was a ‘transitional’ deacon who, a year later, was ordained to the priesthood.  The process leading up to this was not without its drama – not because there were questions about my spiritual and moral fitness of course, but because from the beginning I fit into a newly unveiled ordination process the way a canary fits into a conclave of kittens. 

So at my ordination to the Deaconate, in front of two bishops and multiple clergy who had the privilege of assessing my fitness for ministry, as well as several hundred curious and/or disinterested worshippers, the Rev. George Ross (the priest who welcomed me into the Episcopal Church and who was the preacher at the occasion) told a story intended to calm my nerves and to offer me assurance all would be well.  He introduced the story with a slight apology, admitting it was a tad sexist for the time – 29 years ago.  I present the gist of it to you this day with the caveat it may be even a little more sexist today than it was back then:

Years ago there was a young man who wanted to be ordained into the ministry.  In his denomination, the leaders of the local church examined the candidate and voted to ordain or not.  Back in the day only men were allowed to serve on the congregation’s leadership board.  Even though the earnest and eager young man had grown up in the church, consent was not a foregone conclusion.  Meeting the morning of the scheduled ordination service, the tone of the board’s conversation took on an ominous tone.  Some of the men didn’t like the ideas the candidate had picked up at the liberal seminary he attended.  Others questioned a sermon he had preached.  Still others didn’t approve of the length of his hair.  At one point, the head of the board turned to the congregation’s pastor and asked for his opinion.  “Well, gentlemen,” he said in a very hushed and wise tone, “the women of the church have already set up for the reception after the service.  They have prepared a wonderful lunch for everyone and even baked a special cake for the occasion.  Given everything the ladies have put into this, I think the question of ordination is settled.”  And with that, the all-male leadership board voted unanimously to ordain.

I have always loved this story, not so much because it lowered my anxieties, but because it highlighted for me the difference between formal and informal authority in the life of the church.  Women were not allowed to serve on a Vestry in Virginia until 1970, but that does not mean they exercised no leadership in the church before then.  Here at St. Paul’s, the women formed The Randolph Society, which implemented much of what we would consider the ministry of the church: seeing to the Christian education of our children, hosting fellowship events, and raising funds for outreach projects, while the men of the Vestry debated such weighty theological matters as how much to pay for a ton of coal, the need to identify the source of a leak in the roof, and how much money to pledge to the diocese.

You may find it interesting that the Property Committee made a report at the October 16, 1929 Vestry meeting indicating our then neighbor, one Mrs. W.T. Jones, had complained “the hedge on the church property adjoining her home, has been allowed to grow to such height that it so shaded her garden as to retard the growth of her flowers and requests that such hedge be trimmed.”  How would the illustrious group of Vestrymen serving such a crucial leadership function deem best to deal with this delicate matter?  They voted to refer it to The Randolph Society! 

Given the ‘authority’ conferred on them by the male leaders of the parish, whatever those ladies did, they must have done both swift and well.  The minutes of the next Vestry meeting record that Miss S. Lizzie Morgan complained about “the excessive growth of the shrubbery and hedge on the church’s property adjoining her home lot” and stated “it is causing her fence to rot.” Read into the minutes Miss Morgan saying this: Since you men of the Vestry never seem to be able to get anything done, can you please authorize the women of the church to work with me?  In a stunning move, the men voted to refer the matter to The Randolph Society.

I am indebted personally to this group of fine and faithful women.  Back in the mid-1930’s they put down their collect feet and demanded the Vestry build a Rectory for the parish’s priest. Since their arrival in 1926, the Rev. Herbert Nash Tucker, his wife, and four children lived in a rented house on Brewer Street referred to as the “Blount House.”  Now you many not think this arrangement too bad until you learn that the rental agreement called for Mr. Blount to retain use of two of the rooms and a bathroom in the house.  Well, it seems that when Mr. Blount passed away the Vestry decided not to purchase the house outright.  Someone else did and wanted the Tuckers out. 

From my reading of the minutes, the women of the Randolph Society held the Vestry’s feet to the fire on the matter of building a suitable Rectory, something which had been debated by the Vestry for at least twenty years.  A Mrs. Darden, Mrs. Holladay, and Mrs. Bradshaw were sent to the Vestry to say “enough is enough.”  Well, in 1935, the women got their way and a Rectory was built at 229 N. Saratoga Street at a cost of $8,932.  It is the house I now own, but not quite at that price.

All of my musing about the role and place of women in the church – both globally and locally – has been inspired by today’s first reading.  Set in the Book of Acts, it takes place not too long after the Resurrection.  Jesus has ascended into heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father and the disciples – led by Peter – are making their way with Jesus’ mandate to proclaim the reign of the Kingdom of God.

In this morning’s lesson we learn about Tabitha (also known as Dorcas).  It is the first and only time she is mentioned in Scripture.  She lives in Joppa, a town on the northern Israel coast of the Mediterranean Sea.  We don’t know if she has been a longtime follower of Jesus or a recent convert, but the text tells us two things.  First, she is a disciple; in the Greek a mathetria, the only woman given such a title in the New Testament whose name we know.   And second, we are told she is devoted to good works and acts of charity.  If I put newsprint in front of us and asked you to name the women you have known in your life who were both disciples of Jesus and given to good works and acts of charity, I am confident we could fill pages upon pages of paper.  If I asked you to name men who fit this criteria, it might take some time before we identified even a half-dozen!

Well, Tabitha is suddenly overtaken by a mysterious illness and dies.  The signs of grief described in the lesson are not at all dissimilar from our own day and time.  When the mourners learn Peter is staying at a nearby town they send for him.  I like how when he arrives the women show him some of the tunics Tabitha had made for them.  It seems one of her acts of charity was to sew new clothing for converts who came to the faith wearing little more than rags.  Ladies, what does descent clothing do for your self-esteem?  I am sure some male disciple presided over a baptismal liturgy that told these converts they were welcomed into a new and glorious life with Jesus.  Tabitha knew this proclamation needed something tangible and concrete to reinforce the spiritual truth so she gave each needy person a new tunic to wear.

But now she is dead.  Peter prays over Tabitha’s body and then commands her to “get up”.  She opens her eyes and Peter assists her to her feet.  Within the context of the Book of Acts, this story is meant to convey something of what scholars call the “post-resurrection reality of Jesus.”  If this strikes you as a fancy, but somewhat aloof theological concept, you are not alone.  While the message death never has the final word is comforting, in our day and age I believe this reading says something even more powerful about discipleship and authority.  It directs our attention to the ministry of the women who have baked the special cake to expose the pointless debate of the men. 

This fourth Sunday of Easter is known as “Good Shepherd” Sunday.  It lifts up the shepherd-like care Jesus has for each one of us.  The reading about Tabitha invites us to ponder to role of shepherdesses in our own life as well as in the life of our parish and in the church.  Theirs has always been a ministry of sensitivity, compassion, and wisdom.  Only recently has it been coupled with formal authority and power. 

One of the glorious ways I see God working in and through St. Paul’s Vestry is that gender roles have given way to individual gifts and perspectives.  A woman raises concerns about fiscal responsibility while a man insists on the need to make the parish comfortable for all.  I pray as we move toward Pentecost Sunday – a day when we celebrate how God has empowered each of our unique ministries with the presence of the Holy Spirit – each of us will feel comfortable and confident speaking our truth as God has given it to us.  I pray each of us will feel comfortable and confident living out your truth as best we can.  I pray we might be able to describe each and every person here as being a “disciple” “given to good works and acts of charity.”

"Doubting" Thomas or “Fearful Disciples” Sunday?

The Lectionary always has us read the story of “Doubting” Thomas on this Second Sunday of the Easter season.  He is the disciple who is not present when Jesus first appears to his followers on evening after the Resurrection.  They are hiding in a house - the doors locked and the windows shuttered – because they are fearful authorities are going to arrest them just as they had arrested Jesus a few days earlier.  

Thomas gets a bad rap as being the doubter in the group, when in fact, not a single disciple believes Jesus has risen from the dead.  To be completely accurate, most do not even believe the women’s report that the tomb is empty.  Now that is doubting at the highest level!  Here is what sets Thomas apart from the others: he is the only disciple who is brave enough to leave the house where all the others are hiding.  The text does not tell us where he went or what he was doing, but this much is clear: he is not as fearful as the others. 

So let’s switch our focus from the inaccurately dubbed “Doubting” Thomas to the more accurately tagged “Fear-Filled” Followers.  That is what this Sunday should be all about.

Consider this: Jesus spent three years of his life teaching this group about the Kingdom of God – a spiritual reality inviting them to turn their focus upward to God and outward to others.  But now, just a few days after the Crucifixion, the focus of Jesus’ followers has shifted from proclamation to self-preservation.  Aung San Suu Kyi, the former Burmese political prisoner and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize makes the observation, “The only real prison is fear, and the only real freedom is freedom from fear.”  For the disciples, the outer reality of the locked room is a reflection of inner fear imprisoning them.  They have compromised their identity, lost their purpose, and forsaken their mission.  The Kingdom of God, built on self-sacrifice, has given way to the perceived need to protect oneself at all costs.

If we are going to be honest with ourselves, we cannot be too critical of the disciples because we are very much like them.  We too spend much of our lives locked-up in a state of fear.  We are anxious about so much of the way the world is today and we attempt to protect ourselves by locking it out.

Phil Barker, a member of the research staff at the Conflict Research Consortium, defines fear as “an unpleasant and often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.”  He notes fear is “completely natural and helps people to recognize and respond to dangerous situations and threats.”  But, he says, ‘healthy’ fear can also evolve into something unhealthy, even pathological.   It can manifests itself in the guise of anger, jealously, and resentment.  This kind of fear can lead to exaggerated or even violent behavior. 

Barker points to the work of Dr. Ivan Kos who described three stages of fear:

  First there is real fear.  If someone punches you every time you meet, you have reason to fear the person will punch again the next time your paths cross.

  Next there is realistic or possible fear.  This kind leads you to manage a threat or avoid it altogether.  Realistic fear is why we take care crossing a busy street.

  Finally, there is exaggerated or emotional fear.   This bubbles up when a person recalls a past experience of fear and injects that memory into a current situation, even though the two events are not related.  We say this kind of fear “clouds” our thinking. 

Fear can be and often is manifested collectively.  Perhaps the single most significant collective fear in our time is the fear of losing our identity.  The world is changing rapidly and our lives are being changed as a result.  We fear the world will pass us by.  We are afraid our children will abandon our time-honored traditions and that outside influences will supplant our role in their lives. 

This same fear is the common denominator behind all religious fundamentalism, be it Christian, Islam, or Judaism.  Fundamentalists are afraid of change, modernization, and loss of influence.  They worry their children will abandon faith in favor of physical and material gratification.  They worry the mass media will subvert the young people with images of song, dance, fashion, alcohol, drugs, sex, and freedom.  They are especially fearful of education if it undermines the teachings of their religion.   They fear a future they can’t control, or even comprehend.

Is it any surprise the political analyst James F. Mattil states this:

The common thread that weaves violent political movements together is fear.  It is not the only motivating factor behind political violence, nor necessarily the most obvious, but it is virtually always there.  Whenever we ask why people hate, or why they are willing to kill or die for a cause, the answer is invariably fear.

Our current political climate is dominated by fear.  It leads us to portray one group or perspective as completely heroic while branding another other as barbaric, inhumane, and/or un-American.  Leaders understand this and play on our fears because they need our support.  The net effect does not calm our fears, but rather escalates them; giving rise to even more irrational and destructive behavior.  German Chancellor Angela Merkel says, “Fear has never been a good advisor.”  The more afraid we are of the other the easier it is to dehumanize them and dismiss them, or, even worse, to perpetrate abuse against them.

The disciples gathered behind locked doors were not strangers to any of this.  Most were from Galilee, an area considered to yield little more than rubes and bumpkins.  Like all Jews, they suffered under Roman occupation and before that, Greek and Persian control.  As with all fear, memories run deep and all these past experiences played into and fed on the fear they were feeling in that locked room. 

The Risen Jesus walks into the darkness of their self-imposed prison of self-preservation.  His words speak to the heart of the situation:  “Peace be with you.”  He then shows them his hands and side.  They instantly know who he is and rejoice.  Again he says, “Peace be with you”, only this time he refocuses them on their true sense of identity, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”  They are not meant for fearful hiding, but for reaching out in God’s name in order to build bridges across the chasms created by fear and hatred.  Finally, Jesus imparts on his followers the presence of the Holy Spirit; not the wild and wholly fireball of Pentecost, but a calm, soothing exhaling of breath.

The Hebrew word for peace is ‘shalom’.  Beyond peace, it conveys a sense of wholeness, fullness, and harmony.  Shalom among people is something akin to a woven fabric where relatedness and interdependence create something useful, often beautiful.  Shalom enables us individually and collectively to live into our true identity as people of God.

Notice Jesus does not return from the dead with an army of avenging angels to wipe out every power and every perspective giving rise to the disciples’ fears.  Everything about the outside world remains exactly as it was.  What Jesus changes is the disciples.  He transforms their fear into shalom.  They will still be appropriately cautious, most of the time at least; which is to say they will still exhibit realistic fear.  But from this point forward, there is not one single instance in the biblical record where they are caught up in emotional, exaggerated fear.  They will move out into the world as witnesses of the Resurrection and their own personal shalom will be one of the most compelling aspects of their testimony.

The psychiatrist Gerald Jampolsky, in his book Love is Letting Go of Fear, contends there are only two emotions: love and fear.  Love is real, he says.  It is the essence of who we are.  Fear, on the other hand, is manufactured in the mind.  We take in events from the outside world and interpret their meaning through a complex web of past thoughts and experiences.  We believe the outside world is the cause of our fears, when in fact it is just the opposite.  Our mind filters what we see and projects its own interpretation onto it. 

If we are going to overcome our own fears – in addition to the shalom Jesus offers – we must come to understand what is going on inside of us that gives rise to fear.  The spiritual counselor Pamela Dussult points to habits that rob us of inner peace.  They include living with drama, dependency on unhealthy things to make us happy, a sense of entitlement, constantly comparing oneself to others, and engaging the world with a sense of pessimism and cynicism.  If you do not understand why these things arise inside you, you will never be able to experience shalom.  You will never be able fully and freely to live into the love Jesus offers to you and invites you to share with others. 

Remember this: the choice is always yours.  You can live and move and have your being in fear or in love.  And, if you choose love, remember you live and move and have your being in a world where most people have chosen fear.  How will you meet these people?  What shalom will you have to offer?  Think about the disciples locked in that room.   Nothing about their world changed until they changed.  Once they changed - once their fear gave way to shalom - they became God’s agents of love and change in the world.  Would you like to bring this love and shalom to your family?  To your friendships?  To your workplace?  To the world?  If so, may the peace that passes all understand be with you.

This Changes Everything!

…chiefly are we bound to praise you for the glorious resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord: ...who by his death has destroyed death and by his rising to life again has won for us ever-lasting life.

These words, coming from the Proper Preface we will use in today’s Eucharistic liturgy, hint that this day is a day of incredible power.  Like Ford says in its commercial for its F150 pickup – This changes everything! 

Don’t believe it?  Let’s take stock of the mood permeating the first Easter morning.  Jesus’ followers are done.  A few women come to the tomb to cover his corpse with burial anointments and perfumes.   Two other disciples leave Jerusalem and head out of town on a road to Emmaus – a destination still unknown by modern scholars.  In a very real sense they are going nowhere – aimless and dispirited.  The rest of the disciples are hiding in a room with doors locked and shades drawn.  They are fearful, and with good reason.  The authorities might come for them next.  They might be tried and executed just as Jesus was.

It is a bleak picture, completely devoid of direction and hope.  There is nothing here – nothing at all – to suggest in just fifty days these very same people will be transformed into a dynamic, courageous group of witnesses who would carry the Good News of Jesus to every known corner of their world.  There is nothing here to suggest the willingness with which they will endure hardship, persecution, beatings, imprisonment, and even death itself in order to proclaim the truth of what they have experienced.  Their movement, which begins as a small sect with a few dozen adherents, grows in little over 300 years against all odds and adversities to become the official religion of the Roman Empire; supplanting centuries-old paganism, myths, and superstitions.

I don’t know what you think about this day.  You may be a devout believer in the Resurrection or you may be dyed-in-the-wool skeptic.  No matter where you fall, we all must acknowledge Easter liberated a tremendous power in the world.

Power is simply defined as the ability to get things done.  Whereas authority is the right to do something, power is the ability to do it.  A bank robber has power, but not authority.  A teacher has authority, but may not have power.  A police officer has both.

Back in 1959, social psychologists John French and Bertram Raven published a study on power in which they enumerated five different ways it can be manifested:

  Referent power is the ability to cultivate the respect and admiration of others so that they wish to be like you and follow you.  Thinking of the events unfolding over the course of Holy Week, you will note Jesus had referent power, while Pilate and Herod did not.

  Legitimate power, also known as positional power, is derived from a person’s given responsibilities and duties.  The temple officials lacked the legitimate power to crucify Jesus.  They had to convince Pilate to order it, because this power was seated in his position alone.

  Expert power comes from one’s skills, abilities, and expertise.  Imagine you are on a plane sitting next to a pilot and a plumber.  Each has a useful skill set you may not possess.  If the jet’s captain becomes incapacitated you know which of the two will immediately receive power to take over.  The guards who flogged Jesus had expert power.  They knew their craft and they were good at it.

  Reward power depends on the ability of a person to confer something of value to others.  Parents try to wield reward power even as we sit here this morning.  How many of you have said to your children, “If you sit quietly through the service, after church we’ll go get some ice cream”?  Judas had reward power.  He was able to tell the Temple authorities where they could arrest Jesus without making a public scene.  The Temple officials also had this power.  They paid Judas handsomely for his information.

  And finally there is coercive power.  It uses threats and punishments to achieve desired results.  This was Pilate’s main source of power.

On Good Friday we read this from the Gospel of John:

Pilate said to Jesus, “Do you refuse to speak to me?  Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?”  Jesus answered him, “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above.”

When Pilate is unsuccessful in using his power to coerce he follows through on his threat.

This morning I want to draw your attention to two types of power.  One is as old as civilization itself.  It is the power to destroy.  Anyone can wield it: terrorists in Brussels, an abusive spouse and parent, a mean-spirited parishioner, a rude person in the checkout line, a Roman despot suppressing religious and human freedom.  The power to destroy is available to each of us.  All that differs is the scope and scale of the damage we can do.

Easter unleashes a new power.  It is a power not named or described in French and Raven’s 1959 study.  It is Easter power – the power to give life and hope and courage and purpose; the power to transform a person’s life.  It is a power far greater than all other powers in the world.  It is the power of resurrection and it fuelled the passion of the first Apostles.  It is a power which can and does liberate the human heart.  No power, no circumstance can overcome it.

A little over 250 years ago, a man named George was in as bad of straights as you can imagine.  Once an accomplished musician and composer who was favored by royalty, his health had failed.  A few years earlier a stroke left his right side crippled with paralysis.  He was impoverished and had to sleep on the cold, bare wooden floor of his unheated apartment.  Creditors had seized all his belongings and were threatening to have him sent to debtor’s prison.  He was 56 years old – my age.  I cannot imagine a darker, more hopeless place in life to be.  But there was a power working in George – the power of Easter – and it so enflamed his heart he sat down to compose.  Christians around the world today will sing what George Frederick Handel brought to life in spite of the circumstances I described… The Hallelujah Chorus.  Ask yourself how a person in such a downtrodden place could create something filled so profoundly with hope and praise.

In our own time we have seen this power manifested through the likes of Corrie ten Boom and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, through Martin Luther King and Oscar Romero, through Joni Eareckson and Lisa Beamer.  Each has made an incredible witness to the Christian faith and life in spite of obstacles and challenges that would cripple most and cause their spirits to crumble.  Paul confessed to the Christians in Philippi, “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection.”  Jesus told his followers, “I have come that you may have life.”  It is this life-giving power we seek and celebrate today.

Maybe you doubt the Resurrection.  Maybe it all sounds to fantastical, too far-fetched, too much like a superstitious tale concocted in an age of superstition for you to take it literally.  But if you have any intellectual curiosity and any intellectual integrity, the story of the Resurrection demands you make some kind of assessment of the power it unleashed.  Can you really chalk up the changed lives of every single disciple to something as simple as the power of positive thinking?  How do you make sense of the incredible witness of Christians down through the ages and in our own time; people who have endured against incredible odds with undiminished joy and faith and hope?  Either they are delusional or they are buoyed by some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy, or they are caught up in the power of Easter that changes everything… a power available to you and to me if we embrace it, received it, and cherish it.

…chiefly are we bound to praise you for the glorious resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord: who by his death has destroyed death and, and by his rising to life again has won for us ever-lasting life.

The Meaning of the Cross

 

I consider myself to be something of a spiritual pilgrim.  By this I mean that I continue to press on toward a fuller, deeper, richer understanding of God’s involvement in human affairs.  The bible, of course, is the primary source of my understanding.  It articulates God’s interaction with a particular people over a long period of time culminating with the coming of the Messiah and witness of the early Church. 

The rich tradition of the Church provides yet another resource for spiritual pilgrims.  We can learn much, and be stimulated in our learning, by the experience of the faithful down through the ages.  In more recent times, a host of theologians, historians, and devotional writers offers even more insight and guidance.

But beyond all of this, every spiritual pilgrim must learn to value his or her own experience of God.  That which resonates as true in your prayers, your worship, your study, the liturgy in which you participate, and in the day-to-day events of your everyday life matters.   This personal component is essential because God is not just the God of way back then.  God is not found solely between the covers of dusty books or exclusively contained by the experiences of the saints and monastics of long ago.  God is alive and active and present with each one of us here and now… today.

So as a spiritual pilgrim I strive to know God by looking at my own life through the lenses of Holy Scripture, tradition, the teachings of the Church, and what I can learn about God through the lessons of my own encounters with God. 

All of this is a long way of saying that much about this day… Good Friday… puzzles me. 

The bible and the Church could not be more clear about what this day means.  Our sins have been laid on the innocent Son of God.  He dies for us and in the process becomes the Savior of the world.  As the early Church listened to the Holy Spirit in an effort to understand the Cross, it could not help but see the Cross through the metaphor of the sacrificial system of their religion.  Rather than offering to God some grain or oil or pigeon or lamb as a substitute sacrifice for personal sin, Jesus offers up his sinless self on our behalf.  Once and for all we are made whole and clean through his sacred offering.

The notion behind the entire sacrificial system was God demanded some act of violence in order to abate God’s just wrath elicited by humankind’s disobedience.  It is this notion I question as a spiritual pilgrim.  Does God demand an act of violence as a substitution for deserved punishment evoked by our sins?  If the answer is no, then how are we to understand this day?

More and more on my spiritual pilgrimage the focus of my Good Friday theology revolves around two thoughts.

First, this day is a symbol of what God always endures to be in relationship with us.  In the core of God’s very being, in the heart of the Holy Trinity, in the midst of that perfectly harmonious relationship, there is a cost to be paid for being in relationship with that which does not completely share in God’s perfect harmony. 

It is similar to the cost every parent pays to be in relationship with a child… the uncertainty of allowing the child to explore and develop, the frustration at failure, the pain of rejection.  All of these are a part of the parenting experience.  It is the cost the parent pays to be in relationship with the child.  But it is only a part.  This cost is far outweighed by the joy of the relationship between parent and child. 

If this is the experience of parents, how much more must it be the experience of God?  The Cross is the symbol of what it costs God to be our parent.  In this sense it is more than a historic event that took place at Golgotha, it is an on-going experience taking place within the heart of God.

This understanding of the Cross raises an essential question… will God grow tired of bearing this pain?  The Cross offers a definitive answer… no, never!  On this dark day God absorbs the absolute worst humanity can do to God.  In a sense we might say God tests the limits of God’s own love and discovers not even the Crucifixion can diminish God’s willingness to be in relationship with the human family.  Just as Abraham tested his absolute devotion to God by being willing to offer his only son, so God offers the only begotten Son to test the limits of God’s love for the human family.  God discovers divine love endures through the worst we can do to it.

I do not offer these thoughts as a finished theology, but as the musings of a spiritual pilgrim.  I do not know where they will take me or how they might stimulate your own thinking, but I am confident in God’s love for me… even if I stray from accepted and acceptable understanding.

Here is my second thought about this day.  It is one that haunts me.  As a parent I know I am more tolerant of my children when they rebel against me than I am when they hurt one another.  I am more tolerant of their indiscretions against me than I am of those directed at people outside the family.  So while the Cross tells me God can absorb the worst things we do to God, I wonder if God can absorb the worst things we do to one another.  Certainly the history of the human family suggests we are capable of unbelievable acts of violence and hatred toward one another.  God can bear our ugliness directed at God, but can God bear our ugliness directed at one another?

Somehow the Cross suggests God can bear this pain as well.  Still, the liturgy for this day helps us to remember the pain we cause one another may be a greater pain to God than the pain God endures on the Cross.  The Solemn Collects we will pray in a moment suggest the Cross begs us to relate to the world in a new way.  And so through our biddings and prayers we seek to enter into relational harmony with God by seeking relational harmony with all those whom God loves.

 

 

Speaking Out & Acting Out Against Violence

Beginning with a disciple’s act of striking with a sword to the beatings Jesus received to the flogging he endured to the crucifixion itself, the Passion is a story riddled with violence from beginning to end.  Everything about it is carefully orchestrated by the Romans to inflict as much pain as possible while at the same time publically humiliating Jesus as a means to discourage others from joining his cause.  It is community-sanctioned brutality of the highest order.  What does it say that the crowd wants to crucify the person who proclaims the peaceful coming of the Kingdom of God while demanding the release of an insurrectionist charged with murder?

In 2011, the Canadian born cognitive theorist Steven Pinker published a book titled The Better Angels of our Nature.  In it he argues civilization today is much less violent than at any other point in the past.  As an example, he describes one of the most popular forms of entertainment in sixteenth-century Paris: cat-burning - where a cat was put in a sling and hoisted over a fire.  Huge crowds, including kings and queens, shrieked with laughter as the animals howled in pain.  This kind of sadism would be unthinkable in much of the world today.

Pinker notes:

“Cruelty as entertainment, human sacrifice to indulge superstition, slavery as a labor-saving device, conquest as the mission statement of government, genocide as a means of acquiring real estate, torture and mutilation as routine punishment, the death penalty for misdemeanors and differences of opinion, assassination as the mechanism of political succession, rape as the spoils of war, pogroms as outlets for frustration, homicide as the major form of conflict resolution--all were unexceptionable features of life for most of human history.  But, today, they are rare to nonexistent in the West, far less common elsewhere than they used to be, concealed when they do occur, and widely condemned when they are brought to light.”

According to Pinker, violence has been in decline as human history as unfolded.  He contends today we live in “the most peaceful moment of our species’ time on earth.”  His thinking seems to run counter to commonly held assumptions we have of the world, but is worth considering.

Here are three others whose findings tend to support Pinker’s theory.

George Gerbner, the founder of something called “Civilization Theory”, did some research into the appeal of violence in movies.  He showed one group the 1993 theatrical release of The Fugitive and another group a version in which he edited out all the graphic violence.  Gerbner asked each group to grade the movie and discovered both rated it at the same level.  His conclusion: violent content did not increase the movie’s appeal.

Scott Rigby and Richard Ryan conducted a similar test focusing on violent video games and found what Gerbner found with movies.  The presence of blood and gore did not impact players’ enjoyment of the game.

The British journalist Jamie Bartlett interviewed prisoners at Guantanamo Bay to learn what drew them into the jihad movement.  Most might think once its adherents are radicalized, violence itself is the appeal.  He discovered, however, something quite different: 

·   First, jihad extremism provides adherents a ‘fun adventure’.  Going to a training camp offers a means to test oneself, to push one’s limits, and to learn new things.

·   Second, it provides a path to become the hero of the story.  It is a way to transform oneself from a nobody into a mythical figure.  Bartlett discovered many violent extremists draw inspiration from Western movie icons.

·   And finally, it gives the adherent what might best be called “street cred” – recognition and respect from one’s peers.

The violence is not an end unto itself, but rather a means to achieve something else.  Jihad, Bartlett discovered, is not so much about furthering a particular ideology as much as it is a pursuit of very personal and private benefits.

All of this gives credence to Pinker’s contention that violence and brutality have been declining over the course human history, even in our day.  Still, he cautions (and whether you accept his thesis or not, this is his most crucial point in my estimation), the decline in violence cannot be a “license for complacency”.  He writes, “We enjoy the peace we find today because people in past generations were appalled by the violence in their time and worked to end it, and so we should work to end the appalling violence in our time.”

There is something deeply disturbing about John McGraw, a 78-year-old man, punching a 26-year-old, Rakeem Jones, at a South Carolina political rally, even if, as McGraw contends, Jones was ‘cussing’ at him.  In a 2009 newspaper article McGraw was quoted as saying, “I believe in the Scripture as a road map to a way of life.  The Bible tells us how to live, to survive.”  To survive?  Those of us who read the bible and hear it read in church every Sunday have to say a clearly as possible McGraw’s action is not all reflective of what we are taught in Holy Scripture.

The bishops of the Episcopal Church gather twice a year in retreat.  From time-to-time they issue a statement to the church which clergy are to read to the congregations they serve.  The House of Bishops met last week and unanimously agreed to issue ‘A Word to the Church’ titled “We reject the idolatrous notion that we can ensure the safety of some by sacrificing the hopes of others.”

It reads:

On Good Friday the ruling political forces of the day tortured and executed an innocent man.  They sacrificed the weak and the blameless to protect their own status and power.  On the third day Jesus was raised from the dead, revealing not only their injustice but also unmasking the lie that might makes right.

In a country still living under the shadow of the lynching tree, we are troubled by the violent forces being released by this season’s political rhetoric.  Americans are turning against their neighbors, particularly those on the margins of society.  They seek to secure their own safety and security at the expense of others.  There is legitimate reason to fear where this rhetoric and the actions arising from it might take us.

In this moment, we resemble God’s children wandering in the wilderness.  We, like they, are struggling to find our way.  They turned from following God and worshiped a golden calf constructed from their own wealth.  The current rhetoric is leading us to construct a modern false idol out of power and privilege.  We reject the idolatrous notion that we can ensure the safety of some by sacrificing the hopes of others.  No matter where we fall on the political spectrum, we must respect the dignity of every human being and we must seek the common good above all else.

We call for prayer for our country that a spirit of reconciliation will prevail and we will not betray our true selves.

2,000 years ago, people with power handled political and public discourse by inflicting horrible, excruciating pain on those voicing a dissenting opinion.  Today we remember one person who paid the ultimate price for trying to lead the world into a new reality featuring an ethic of justice, love, and mutual respect.  The reading of the Passion of Christ is without a doubt the most powerful moment of the church year.  It is gripping and emotional and leaves us speechless.  And yet, like the women at the foot of the cross who watched in silence, we too feel compelled to participate in this moment. 

After we absorb what we hear there is much about it we might say.  Here is one thing we surely must proclaim in our own day and time: intentional degradation, violence, torture, and execution have no place in the human family and most certainly cannot be considered “Christian”.

Each of us must speak this word of truth, even if few will hear.  Each of us must live this truth; finding ways – be they grand or be they ordinary – to express kindness, generosity, and respect.  As more and more people do this, the Spirit of Christ will work through us and this world will continue its path to more peaceful reality.

Let me conclude with these timeless and familiar words from Abraham Lincoln’s second inaugural address:

“With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”