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 Imperishable Flame

 

Two thousand years ago, in a land on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean Sea, a man displaced by legal decree searched desperately for a safe place for his wife to give birth. Two years after the child was born they were displaced again as they fled “The Slaughter of the Innocents.” The king was just “mowing the grass,” a routine part of his periodic killing sprees to remind his subjects who was boss and to make sure no one would rise up against him. The king was paranoid about losing his power even though ironically, his rule was dependent on the whims of  a much larger empire. 

Thirty years later, the child became a man who confronted the power structure not by force of arms, but by rehumanizing the outcasts. The hierarchy of the power structure was built on a foundation of people at the bottom: the diseased, the disabled, the foreigner, and women. This man challenged the system by recognizing their humanity publicly. As a result he gained a following large enough to catch the notice of the powers that be. The religious and political leaders considered him a threat to their precarious alliance, so they conspired to have him charged with a crime and executed in what today we call a targeted killing. 

In the subsequent years this man's followers gathered in his name and broke bread together. They took his teachings to heart to welcome the stranger, bear ill will towards none, nor raise a sword against another human being. Their numbers spread throughout the land. But their growth was perceived as a threat so they were persecuted as enemies of the empire. A few centuries later, the tables turned when an emperor saw their faith not as a threat, but an opportunity. The followers were not just welcomed as friends of the empire, they became the religion of the empire. They would become the empire’s standard-bearers. The persecuted would become persecutors. 

The religion of the empire became so focused on miracle, mystery, and authority that it lost touch with humanity, its own and the humanity of others. The religion and the empire became so intertwined as to be indistinguishable. It fomented internicene battles, inquisitions, tortures, and crusades. It gave its blessings to conquests and subjugations. It became a  grotesque caricature of the beliefs and goodness it claimed to hold. 

But there were those brave few who remembered the teachings and the humanity of the one they followed. They renounced the trappings of empire: wealth, position, and violence. They spread their faith not by argument nor by the sword, but by their example of breaking bread with each other and sharing their bread with those rejected by the empire. They were never a majority. They often faced persecution for rejecting the values of the empire. But they were enough to keep an imperishable flame lit in the hearts of those who followed the way.

Never Again?

We are observing milestones in world history. The 80th anniversary of the Invasion of Poland and World War Two. The 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. A common refrain heard during these observances is "Never Again". Yet we seem to have learned nothing from these events in history.

Presidential orders have turned hatred into policy.  The administration has banned Muslim travel to the US, is building a wall on our southern border, regularly posts dog-whistle comments to foment open racism and anti-Semitism.  

It makes me think about my very existence. My father fled Poland during World War II through a number of countries, finally ending up in the US. His father, mother, and sister did not make it. Except for my sister, I have no surviving relatives on my father's side.

As a young man, I worked in a TV repair shop (yes, we used to fix them).  I made many service calls to Polish neighborhoods in southwest Detroit. In those days, very few homes were air conditioned. In the summer heat, my customers wore light garments with short sleeves. From time to time I would see numbers tattooed on people's forearms. We would briefly look each other in the eye without a word. No comments were necessary.

I married the daughter of immigrants. My entire family is built on immigration. So yes,  I get emotional when talking about immigration. 

I have lived and worked with a multitude of ethnicities. I have been welcomed into the homes of Muslim, Christian, and Hindu families. I have broken bread and shared drinks with coworkers and neighbors come from all over the globe. Some own businesses that employ people and in so doing, multiply the GDP of this nation. All of these people are hard-working, tax paying citizens. And good neighbors. This is the rich DNA of America. This is an existential issue. If we deny immigration, America will die of a self-inflicted wound.

So in this climate of hate, I worry. I worry about my neighbors and friends being profiled. I worry about their families. I worry about them when they travel outside our borders that another arbitrary order will come down and block their entry. I worry that history is repeating itself. 

Singling out an ethnic or religious group as an "enemy" is the beginning of road that humanity has been down many times. It is a time-honored political strategy to create an "enemy" and make them the object of fear and derision. America is better than this. And, if America is not better than this, then we should dispense with the pretense. That we are a nation of immigrants. Once we shut the door, we are not. That we are a "Christian" nation. If we bar the "least of these", then we are not. We have denied Christ.

On the Statue of Liberty, there is a plaque and inscription by Emma Lazarus:

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”  

If we bar the "tired, poor masses" who have been huddled in refugee camps for years, who have fled unimaginable violence, then we should give the statue back to France. We are not deserving of the gift and the honor it bestows.

Or perhaps we will wake up to what is threatening to overtake us.  America is not perfect nor has it been. Yet every day I see examples of good people doing good things. Will we join together with people of good will and stand up for what is good and right about America? Because if we don't stand up for what is good and right about our country, we will lose it.