Easter

We say he is risen, He is risen indeed. 

But do we remember? Why did he bleed?

He stood up to empire and religion allied

With the outcast and foreigner he identified.

Confronting the system and powers that be

Led to his undoing, being lynched on a tree.

So if he is risen, risen indeed 

Can we say he is risen, he is risen in me?

Has he softened my heart enough to see?

The immigrant and foreigner could easily be me?

We will all condemn Judas, on that we agree

Selling out for the silver, that just cannot be 

Yet for money and status, for one rung to climb

We'd sell our souls for just one more dime.

We can't undo all the choices we've made

For the past is sealed, the price must be paid

Our choice is this moment, to affirm or deny

To cease our frenzy and quit living a lie

To believe about Christ was never the deal

But follow his teachings, to make his word real.

Jesus Enters Our World

Today is Palm Sunday, when the Christian world observes Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem. Jesus was welcomed into the city by the common people, but he was feared by the religious leaders.

The symbolism of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey was understood as the fulfilment of Scripture, “Your king comes to you meek and riding on an ass..."(Zechariah 9:9). But it was understood differently, depending on which group was watching the event unfold. 

The people, oppressed by a foreign power, were looking for relief. They saw Jesus as their liberation. 

The leaders, looking to keep their grip on power, were looking for threats. They saw Jesus as their enemy.

“Where you stand changes what you see” — Gustavo Gutiérrez

Jesus was causing quite a stir even though many people were not aware of who he was.  

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred.
People asked, "Who is this?" (Matthew 21:10)

But the religious leaders knew. The High Priest comprehended that the very presence of Jesus in their city was "rocking the boat" of their precarious power alliance with the Roman government. The leaders soon conspired to apprehend Jesus out of public view, present him as a criminal influence to the Roman governor, turn the common people against Him, and finally accuse Him of sedition to have Jesus condemned. 

“The unholy alliance of religion and politics collaborated in finding Jesus guilty.”
—Eugene H. Peterson

The centers of religious and political power were doing what they have always done, divide the people up against each other and crush any prophetic voice that would challenge their position. People in power always rely on the same tools against their enemies: lies, slander, and accusations. Too often, we fall for these deceptions.

Palm Sunday begins Holy Week, the remembrance of  Jesus' final week, his betrayal, crucifixion, and as Christian believe, the Resurrection. We are taught that this is the week that Jesus died to save us from our sins. But what sins? Having an impure thought? A flash of anger or jealousy? Failing to observe the sacrament? Missing services? Not dropping money in the plate? What sins? What sins was Jesus dying for that week? Perhaps it is this one:

“Sin, he reflected, is not what it is usually thought to be; it is not to steal and tell lies. Sin is for one man to walk brutally over the life of another and to be quite oblivious of the wounds he has left behind.” —Shusaku Endo, “Silence”

In the service of power and profit, our society walks brutally over the life of others. While the powerful deliberately harm the dignity, the humanity, and the voices of others, more often we stand aside in silence as it happens. Can we accept that not only did Jesus' die to save us from that sin but the manner in which in died shows us what that sin looks like?  

Jesus showed us what this sin really looks like when we desecrate the Image of God in others. May we be so revolted by the ugliness of dehumanization that we truly repent of it, our participation in it, our  quiet complicity in it. May we resolve to follow the example of Jesus, to re-humanize those that others have rejected, to bring encouragement and joy to their existence. 

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The Church of St Elsewhere

Mont Saint Michel in Normandy is about as other-worldly as a church can get. It is an island in the sea, one kilometer from shore.  Mont Saint Michel is a monument to wars between kings, kingdoms, and religions. It is a crumbling fortress against the outside world that must constantly be shored up against rising tides (and sea levels).

Mont Saint Michel is among the great church buildings of the world I hope to see: Notre Dame in Paris (though now all that remains are the stone walls), Westminster Abbey in London, and St. Peter's in Rome. For some reason I have a fascination with centuries old church buildings. It would seem to be an odd fascination since I rarely attend a church service these days.

Maintaining these physical structures of the church is a never-ending battle against time, nature, and changing human sensibilities. Hundreds of years ago, wealthy noblemen and kings commissioned the building of these structures to the "Glory of God". Artisans and laborers devoted their energies to buildings that would inspire wonder and awe from both  inside and out. Perhaps this is the all too human response to our mortality. We want to build something that will outlive us, though Jesus warned us, "Not one stone will be left upon another."

We humans are not satisfied with physical structures. We want organizational structure. Jesus exhorted us to gather for fellowship at the table, but we want to know which end of the table is the head. In the Gospel of Mark, James and John decided they want to be in charge. Not only did they want to form a hierarchy, they wanted to be the head of it!

Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. “Teacher,” they said, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.” “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.” “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?” “We can,” they answered. Jesus said to them, “You will drink the cup I drink and be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with, but to sit at my right or left is not for me to grant. These places belong to those for whom they have been prepared.” When the ten heard about this, they became indignant with James and John. Jesus called them together and said, “You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Mark 10:35-43

Although Jesus told his disciples that  to "lord over" and to "exercise authority over" others was not to be the pattern for his followers, they began to adopt the world's structures of hierarchy. Most of the centuries of church conflict and turmoil was not so much about what the belief was as who was in charge.

A few centuries after Jesus had left this earth, the Roman model of diocese and archdiocese had been fully integrated into church governance, with bishops and archbishops as the heads. In the centuries which followed, the line between government and church were indistinguishable. The combination grew increasingly powerful, leading to the Crusades in the eleventh century. Over time, as nation-states formed, the influence of the church waned, but never completely abated.

Whatever its degree of influence on temporal affairs, the church knew that it was operating against the explicit direction of its Master.  Allowing space for monastic orders was a tacit admission of this truth. Most of the saints designated by the church, were either from monastic orders, founded orders, or otherwise operated at the fringes of the church. It was necessary to put some distance from the structures of power for people to even attempt to follow Jesus.

Jesus never left explicit directions on how to organize the nascent group of believers he was leaving behind, but he was very explicit about what structures and behaviors to avoid. Throughout history, Jesus' wisdom on these matters had to be rediscovered:

“the "small goodness" from one person to his fellowman is lost and deformed as soon as it seeks organization and universality and system, as soon as it opts for doctrine, a treatise of politics and theology, a party, a state, and even a church. Yet it remains the sole refuge of the good in being. ”― Emmanuel Levinas

This is why attempts to evangelize the world end up being an evangelization of the structures of power. The most notable example is the Roman Catholic church and its "Doctrine of Discovery." This gave European colonialists the moral cover to displace and enslave indigenous peoples. A number of non-denominational American churches have picked up on this as they setup satellite churches under the administration of one senior pastor. But truth is not found at the centers of power:

"If you really want truth, you need to escape the black hole of power and allow yourself to waste a lot of time wandering here and there on the periphery. Revolutionary knowledge rarely makes it to the center, because the center is based on existing knowledge. The guardians of the old order usually determine who gets to reach centers of power, and they tend to filter out carriers of disturbing, unconventional ideas." ―Yuval Noah Harari

Centralized power was always going to be a problem for the church. It's a place to hide all sorts of evil. It's why Jesus operated at the periphery. The margins are where he built his church. Father Oscar Romero realized this in the most trying of places, El Salvador in the late nineteen seventies.

Oscar Romero was appointed and installed as the Archbishop of El Salvador in 1977. He was placed as the head of the Catholic church in El Salvador. His position naturally overlapped with the centers of power at the time, the wealthy landowners and the government. A number of events, culminating with the assassination of his friend, Father Rutilio Grande, changed his perspective about the center of power and moved him to the periphery, the poor laborers of El Salvador. He began to voice the sufferings of the poor and painted a vision of what the Church could be:

"God wants to save us as a people. He does not want to save us in isolation. That is why the church today, more than ever before emphasizes what it means to be a 'people'. And that is why the church experiences conflicts: the church does not want just crowds; she wants a people. A crowd is a bunch of individuals, and the more lethargic they are, the better; the more conformist they are, the better." - St. Oscar Romero 

The "church" Romero speaks of, the communion of life, the church which forms a people, is alien to the concept of "church" in middle America. I have read many of  Romero's words. As I did so, I was saddened by the vast gulf, a great chasm, between the Church Romero speaks of and the church we have today. Romero was martyred as he tried to live out this vision of what the church could be.

Yet I remain hopeful. I see stirrings among the people who want to follow Jesus, who see the truth of his life and teachings. They are tired of living a lie, of putting on a smiling face when inside they are grieving. I am one of those people. I know there are others. Perhaps you are one of them. We can all lament and grieve the state of the church and we probably need to do that. But we also need to realize that the baton has been dropped in front of us. At some point we are going to have to pick it up and "run the race set before us" (Heb 12:1). We cannot run this race alone. We must nurture a hopeful expectancy to find others on the same journey, those who are heading in the same direction. We must learn to recognize the presence of God in people and places where we did not expect to find him. Quite often those places are at the margins of society. We should try to be more spiritually aware, living with a Jesuit expectancy to look for "God in all things." Let us try to learn from those times when we look back, kick ourselves and say "God was in this place and I did not realize it!" (Gen 28:16).

The church we seek, the people that follow Jesus, is the fellowship of saints and the body of Christ. It does not necessarily meet in a building, although it sometimes does. It is a people who will live and speak the truth, however imperfectly. It is a people who have come to terms with their own mistakes, sufferings, denials, and sins. It is a place where people can rejoice, but also grieve together. It is a place where people will bear with one another in all their frail humanity.

It meets at the Church of St. Elsewhere. Service times to be announced.

The Kingdom of God is People

Those of us who are old enough will remember Charleston Heston's role in the dystopian sci-fi classic "Soylent Green". The movie was titled after a fictional nutritional substance that humanity depended on for survival. In the movie he plays an detective who investigates a murder. He follows the evidence to its end. When he realizes the truth, he belts out that iconic line, "Soylent Green is people!"

In many ways this movie was a product of its time. The era produced an entire genre of post-apocalyptic movies. Certainly they were all a  commentary on our fears and self-destructive tendencies. Perhaps even on consumerism's endpoint where we consume ourselves. Those would all be a topic for another blog. For now I want to focus on "people".

Throughout His ministry, Jesus tried to convey truths about the Kingdom of God to people. Think of all the metaphors Jesus used to describe "Kingdom of God". A treasure  hidden in a field. A pearl of great price. A mustard seed.

When he sent his disciples out, he instructed them to say "The Kingdom of God is Near". He never told them how to describe or define this kingdom. They were simply to announce it's nearness.

So what is the Kingdom of God? What was it that Jesus alluded to, told parables about, announced the presence of, but never directly defined? It was hidden in plain sight, right in front of everyone. The Kingdom of God is people! People following Jesus. It's that simple.

The Kingdom of God is people following Jesus. They adhere to his teachings. They follow his example. If Jesus said "love your neighbor", then they love their neighbors. If Jesus said be kind and hospitable to marginalized people ("the least of these"), then his followers are kind and hospitable. If Jesus said forgive enemies, then they forgive their enemies. If Jesus said "love one another as I have loved you", then his people, kingdom people, love one another.

The Kingdom of God is built with rejected and marginalized people,  the people no one else wants. Jesus' followers love them,  re-humanize them, and build a family out of them. That is how the Kingdom grows.

The only evidence of this Kingdom is the lives of its people. Their disposition and actions towards others. When people are re-humanized by Jesus,  have their dignity restored, when people feel like people in the presence of Jesus' followers, the Kingdom is near. Because The Kingdom of God is people!

Enamored by the Stones

As Jesus was leaving the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher! What massive stones! What magnificent buildings!” “Do you see all these great buildings?” replied Jesus. “Not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down.” - Mark 13:1-2 

In this passage, the disciples are awestruck by the magnificence of Herod's temple in Jerusalem. They were enamored by the stones, some of which were may have been as large as their small-town synagogue. Jesus brings them back to earth by foretelling the temple's demise.

I too have been caught up in the institution of the church: it's history,  it's personalities, and contemporary examples of large (mega) churches. It was hard not be enthusiastic when one is a member of a church with hundreds,  thousands, or even millions of members. It is easy to be caught up in the momentum of a growing church, expanding in numbers and facilities. But with large size comes structures of administration and power. If you attempt to follow Jesus and take Him at His word, sooner or later, you will find yourself in conflict with these power structures.

In my journey I have often heard the argument that an inability to find a place in the institutional church is due to a failure to get along with other believers. It is true that I am flawed as much as anyone else, inside or outside the Institution. The difference is that inside the institution people have places to hide. 

The institution provides many places to hide: the offices, structure, procedures, doctrines, and statements of faith.  These stones and pillars provide places of concealment. Therefore we can remain hidden and not truly known.

The institution also provides a motivation to conform. We ought to be conformed to the image of Christ and His love. Instead we are coerced by the group politic. We fear being rejected, so we play the game. We struggle to manage our appearance, not our heart. 

But Jesus is the temple. (John 2:21). He is our shelter. We find our security in His Kingdom, not in our reputation or office. If we truly believe we are justified in Him, we no longer have manage appearances. We are fully and mutually accepted by each other with all our sins, failures, and weaknesses. We have the courage to be who we really are, sinners whose hope is in Jesus. We no longer need to be pious or to posture. We are free to be, we are free to love, and we are free to be loved.

If in our corporate gathering we cannot or will not do these things, then we are still enamored by the stones. The edifice may look indestructible,  but remember that sand is just stones worn down over time. Let's make sure we don't build our houses on it.

Ministering in Weakness

"See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey"  - Zechariah 9:9

This verse came to mind as I was reflecting on this past week. It has been a week where my presence seemed to offer very little. I became reacquainted with my own vulnerabilities. Then I thought about Palm Sunday.

This verse predicts Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem, but it certainly is an oxymoron. A king? Riding on a donkey? In one sentence we have a picture of both strength and weakness. Perhaps that's a picture of Jesus' followers: strength and weakness. 

As a follower of Christ, I'd like to think that I was always helping, always ministering from a vantage point of strength. As an educated professional, a male of European descent, it is too easy to fall into this conceit. But Jesus demonstrates another way. He deliberately chooses his ride. A peasant's borrowed  beast. A symbol of weakness. 

The Western Church, ("Christendom") has only known how to operate from a position of strength. It is the legacy of Constantine, who made Jesus the patron of Imperial Rome. But now the Western Church has found that strength fading. It finds itself less welcome in halls of power. And if it is accepted at all, it is to legitimize civil ceremonies and war. But mostly, it finds itself irrelevant and bereft of power. 

"For more than two centuries [Western power] has provided the framework in which the Western churches have understood their world missionary task. To continue to think in the familiar terms is now folly. We are forced to do something that the Western churches have never had to do since the days of their own birth – to discover the form and substance of a missionary church in terms that are valid in a world that has rejected the power and the influence of the Western nations. Missions will no longer work along the stream of expanding Western power. They have to learn to go against the stream. And in this situation we shall find that the New Testament speaks to us much more directly that does the nineteenth century as we learn afresh what it means to bear witness to the gospel from a position not of strength but of weakness." -Lesslie Newbigin

So this Palm Sunday, we are all reminded of weakness: our own, the church, and perhaps most importantly the weakness Jesus deliberately chose to manifest as he entered the world. It was out of that weakness that he most clearly identified with us, atoned for us, and changed the world. Not through the coercion of power, but through the vulnerability of love. That is where we will find our strength.