Reflection on Holy Week: The Descent into Madness, and the Devastation of Absence

I'm enjoying Holy Week more this year.

This isn't to say that I didn't enjoy it in the past. But I'm understanding it better now, as I grow in my knowledge and my faith. I've been able to focus on the progression of the week, the meaning of the days and the season as a whole. I've been able to just be present in this week.

Last year, I spent all of Lent and Holy Week terribly conflicted about what it all means.

This turmoil came out of my own personal Christology, for lack of a better term. As someone who views Jesus first and foremost as human, who doesn't put much stock in miracles and virgin births and physical resurrections, I was rightfully having a hard time deciding just what was so important about Easter. My big epiphany for last year was while having lunch with my pastor at the time, who told me that all Christians believe in the Resurrection of Christ, but we all may have a different idea of just what form that resurrection took.

This year, I feel more at peace about Easter and Holy Week. I'm excited about it, I'm enjoying the many, many church services, and I am spending a lot of time thinking about what it all means without worrying about it. I've been focusing on two main themes.

First, the dichotomy of Palm Sunday and Good Friday has really struck me this year. In the span of five short days, the Passover crowds of Jerusalem go from hailing Jesus as a king entering his kingdom, to condemning him to death in the most painful and humiliating way. To think about Jesus on the cross, saying "Forgive them, they know not what they do," is really powerful to me.

The whole thing just seems to be a big commentary on our own misunderstanding of what he meant, and of how quickly we can turn on something that seems great at first but ultimately disappoints. It's a striking reflection of our own flightiness and tendency to follow the crowd. We are all complicit in that rapid change. A whirlwind turn of events begins, and we get so wrapped up that the next thing we know, Jesus is on the cross and we are standing there not even realizing just exactly what happened.

Part of my reflection on this theme has been focused on the Cleansing of the Temple. That  really had to be the breaking point for most people. It was such a jarring act, one with such significance and passions surrounding it. That must have been the point when those whispers from the Pharisees began to sink in, and the ball started rolling down hill, and everyone slipped into a blood lust they didn't wake up from until a week or so later.

Except they probably didn't wake up from it. They probably just went about their lives, and one day in the future remembered back to that crazy rabbi who threw the moneychangers out of the Temple and caused such an uproar. What ever happened to that guy?

Second, I've thought about the devastating absence the disciples must have felt after Jesus' death. Here is a man they have dedicated their lives to for more than three years. He was wise, caring, loving, a force of character more powerful than anyone they had probably ever met. No doubt he had a mythical presence in their minds, a larger-than-life aspect of their lives as changeless as the seasons. Despite his assurances of his impending death, they clearly didn't believe him, assuming he would always be there, and leading the way to great and wonderful things.

And then they wake up Saturday morning, and...he's dead. His dead body seems a lot smaller than proportions it seemed to have taken on in his life. His words and teachings already seems like a distant echo.

And life goes on, and things are the same as before, and no one really seems to care except the  11 of them, the Women, and a few others.

And most of all, their teacher, their leader, their brother, their friend-their good, dear, loving, close friend- is dead. How devastating must that have felt that morning? What did the last three years even mean if here they are, alone?

Again, as someone who doesn't believe in a bodily resurrection, this is where the questions deepen. Because it's not just Saturday morning that they wake up in despair. It's the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and so many more other days that they were supposed to be doing amazing things. Life must have seen empty in the days and weeks after the crucifixion, as these men and women tried to figure out how to go on  and what to do with their lives now.

And so the big question becomes, what does Easter really mean now? If it's not about Jesus rising bodily from the tomb on that Sunday, what is it all about? That's what I've really been pondering for a couple years now. And this year, I'm starting to get some glimpses of just what it may mean.

When I think about those lost and devastated disciples, I start to understand what Easter means. Because they didn't give up, go into hiding, or return to their old lives. They built something new. They took up the mantle Jesus relinquished in his death, and began the process of changing people's lives and spreading the message they had internalized.

That's what Easter is about: the inability of death and darkness to prevail, even in the most depressing of times and situations. It's a reminder to us to keep pushing forward, that Jesus' life mattered for something and so does ours, and we have responsibility to engage in something greater than ourselves. That's Easter. That's Holy Week.

The questions keep coming, the pondering doesn't end, but the meaning is there.

Jesus' Resurrection wasn't unique, but it was exceptional: An excerpt from "Excavating Jesus"

I want to share the following excerpt from the book I just finished, Excavating Jesus by John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan Reed. This is pulled from a larger discussion of the historical meaning of the Resurrection, and really highlights the shallow nature of much of today's Christianity.

(Note: all Italicized portions below are preserved from the original. Bolded lines are my own emphasis.)

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It is sometimes claimed in contemporary Christian thought that only the stupendous miracles of empty tomb and risen apparition(s) can explain historically, first, how the companions of Jesus recovered their faith in him lost at the crucifixion, and, second, how others came to faith in him despite his crucifixion. There are two problems, one minor and one major, with that oversimplified understanding.

First, it was the male and not the female companions of Jesus who fled, since they were much more likely to be arrested along with Jesus. But to lose your nerve is not to lose your faith. Even Mark's story of Peter's triple denial so formulates it that he loses not his faith but, as it were, his memory. It might have been braver to stay and confess, but it was cowardice and not disbelief to deny and run.

Second, we are retrojecting our own post-Enlightenment rationalism into a pre-Enlightenment world. Imagine a contemporary debate along these lines. Nonbeliever: "All those stories about virginal conceptions, divine births, miraculous events, wondrous deeds, risen apparitions, and heavenly ascensions never did and never could have happened. They are myth at best and lie at worst." Believer: It is true that such events do not happen regularly, but they all happened to our Jesus once and for all, long ago." In that post-Enlightenment contradiction, impossibility battles with uniqueness.

Both those positions, however, are equally irrelevant for a pre-Enlightenment world, equally unusable in such a cultural milieu. In a world where anything from divine birth to divine ascension was a possible part of the transcendental landscape, impossibility was not an available argument for polemical attackers, but neither was uniqueness an available argument for apologetical defenders. In the free market of religious ideas that was the Greco-Roman world, one had to enter the spiritual free-trade area and argue for one's God or one's Son of God without using either of those post-Enlightenment moves.

For example, in the middle of the second century Justin is arguing for Jesus in his First Apology directed toward pagan readers. He never suggests uniqueness. "When we say also that the Word," he begins, "who is the first-birth of God, was produced without sexual union, an that He, Jesus Christ, our Teacher, was crucified and died, and rose again, and ascended into heaven, we propound nothing different from what you believe regarding those whom you esteem sons of Jupiter." He then lists many examples and concludes by referring to divine emperors and especially Julius Caesar. "What of the emperors who die among yourselves, whom you deem worthy of deification, and in whose behalf you produce someone who swears he has seen the burning Caesar rise to heaven from the funeral pyre?" Finally, however, Justin is certainly not ready to say that all such claims are equal. But notice that his criterion of discrimination is not uniqueness in event, but superiority in action. "As we promised in the preceding part of this discourse, we will now prove Him superior-or rather have proved Him to be so-for the superior is revealed by His actions" (21-22). That is an utterly appropriate pre-Enlightenment argument. Of course there have been many sons of God around, but Jesus is best of all because of certain specific arguments.

Similarly, about a quarter of a century later, when a pagan polemicist named Celsus is attacking Christianity, he uses exactly the same pre-Enlighenment type of argument. He never mentions impossibility, but counters, that Jesus has never done anything for anyone. The argument for superiority is met by one for inferiority. "After all, the old myths of the Greeks that attribute a divine birth to Perseus, Amphion, Aeacus and Minos are equally good evidence of their wondrous works on behalf of mankind-and are certainly no less lacking in plausibility that the stories of your followers. What have you done (Jesus) by word or deed that is quite so wonderful as those heroes of old?" (On the True Doctrine). Both pro-Christian apologist and anti-Christian polemicist use the same argument, but in opposite directions. Impossibility and uniqueness are not imaginable as absolute claims (maybe, of course, as hyperbolic overclaims), but superiority in action is where the debate occurs. Justin: "Jesus has done more than all those others like him." Celsus: "Jesus has done less than all those others like him."

Paul and his audience lived in a first-century pre-Enlightenment world. That precluded those two arguments of uniqueness versus impossibility that present-day believers and nonbelievers use against one another. To assert empty tomb and/or risen apparition(s) is not enough to explain anything, let alone everything in that ancient world. But that full content of Jesus' resurrection just outlined above would make for debate in that world. It was the content and implications of your miracle that mattered there. "Wow" was not enough, because there were too many "wows" around. Ancients might declare Jesus' resurrection unbelievable, but never impossible. What that audience would say to Paul is not an impolite "We do not believe you," but a polite "How nice for Jesus, but why exactly should we care about that?" Or, more bluntly, "What's in it for us?" And that is exactly when Paul would have explained willingly and in great detail, for example, the sociocosmic and religio-political difference between Julius Caesar's ascension and Jesus Christ's resurrection, and how it was time to choose one or the other.

Recall the discussion of Jewish and Christian-Jewish "resurrection" above. Those who claimed Jesus had begun the terminal movement of apocalyptic climax would have to present some public evidence of a world transformed from injustice and evil to justice and peace. It would not and could not suffice to claim one or many empty tombs and one or many risen apparitions. That might be all well and good, but where was the evidence, any evidence, of a transformed world? For that they had only their own communal lives as evidence. This is how we live with God and on this basis we seek to persuade others to do likewise. This is our new creation, our transformed world. We in God, God in us, and both together here below upon this earth. 

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What Crossan and Reed are saying here is so foundational to understanding the differences between the Christianity of those who lived with and experienced Jesus, and the way so many people do it today. Going on and on about a Virgin Birth, healing miracles, a bodily resurrection, is all well and good, but it isn't sufficient to compel new followers of Christ. The "wow" factor is not enough to win souls. 

Those things are but a marker of the special nature of Christ, but the thing that really brings people on board is unique way of life His followers exhibit. Whether we want to hear it or not, the draw of Christianity is not a self-apparent thing triggered by seeing a crucifix; instead, Christianity becomes a draw through us, the church, and actions we engage in, towards ourselves, towards others, and towards all Creation. We have to stand for more than the supernatural occurrences of two millenia ago; we have to follow his example and bring the Kingdom on Earth, today, now.

The Sermon on the Mount in Our World, Part 7: Blessed are the Peacemakers

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God." -Matthews 5:9

The dove represents the Holy Spirit. The sword, spear, pruning hook and plowrepresents Isaiah 2:4 "They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears intopruning hooks." The olive branch and olives represent peace.

American history pop quiz:

Since World War II, what is the longest the United States has gone without engaging in a military action?

No cheating. Think about it.

OK, give up? Eight years. From 1953, the end of Korea, to 1961, with the Bay of Pigs invasion.

Korea started in 1950, five years after the end of WWII. Vietnam ran from 1964 to 1973. 1980 was the botched attempt at saving the hostages in Iran. We were in Lebanon from 1982 to 1984, Grenada in 1983, and Panama in 1989. Then the Persian Gulf conflict in 1990. Somalia was 1992, Haiti was 1994, and various involvements in the Balkans lasted from 1995 until 1999. After 9/11, we went into Afghanistan and Iraq, and two-and-a-half years ago, we sent troops into Libya.

It has been a little over 72 years since the attack on Pearl Harbor, in December of 1941. America has been involved in an armed conflict for 47 of those 72 years.

Is this what a Christian nation looks like?

Jesus' blessing of the peacemakers in the world is the easiest one to relate to the modern political world. Jesus' whole message of love and service to others revolves around the idea of being peaceful. Jesus addresses it multiple times. He urges us to turn the other cheek, to put away our sword, to love our enemies.

Jesus' world was a very violent world. Rome conquered all of the Mediterranean basin and Europe through the power and efficiency of it's armies. The people of Israel were one of those overrun by the legions, the latest in a long line of violent takeovers of their country. They believed the only way to free their nation from the yoke of Rome was through a violent uprising, led by a warrior-king Messiah, in the model of David, the greatest warrior-king of all.

So violence was ingrained in the people of Palestine. Which makes Jesus' blessing of peacemakers, his shunning of violence as a way to lead his people, all the more amazing. How in the world would they ever escape the clutches of Rome, if not through a war? How would turning the other cheek, or loving you enemy, make this happen?

We see the same mindset today. Many people believe the only way America can maintain its place in the world, the only way our lifestyle can be sustained, is through force and a willingness to use that force at any time to protect our interest. In the face of terrorism and radicalism across the world, they don't see how America has any choice but to counter with violence and rule by fear.

And we've maintained that over the last 73 years by using our armed forces to impose our will on the people's of the world. We've appointed ourselves the world's police, and used both conventional and unconventional warfare to maintain the status quo and snuff out anything we don't like.

America has become a country of perpetual war.

We are a country that scoffs at the idea of compromise, of international action and unity, of dialogue with nations we disagree with, of mistrust for other countries. We throw around our weight, use bluster and hubris in our relations, and incite fear and hatred in foreign peoples through our military presence and tendency to use that military to advance our interests at the expense of the rights of other peoples to choose their leaders and policies.

And we have the gall to call ourselves a "Christian nation?"

"Realists" look at the idea peace and shake their heads knowingly. Naivety, they think. Peace sounds great, but its not realistic, right? Talking to other nations solves no problems, only buys the bad guys time. The UN and arms reductions and treaties all sound good in theory, but any SERIOUS THINKER knows that stuff is all unrealistic, and yes, naive.

And therein lies the radical nature of Jesus' call for peacemakers. Jesus understood then what we still have failed to grasp now. Jesus looked at the long line of "messiahs" who had led his people before, and saw a line of men who were crushed in their rebellions by the overwhelming force of Rome. He realized that the use of violence was hopeless. And so he taught them what it would take: peace. Love. Understanding. Nonviolence.

It's a message we need to take to heart today. Instead of throwing our weight around, of using our force to impose our will, of ruling with fear and causing anger, what if we led with peace? What if we relied on our statesmen, on the UN and treaties, and trust? What if we allowed other peoples to determine their own path, to pick their leaders and style of government and policies? What if we stood for universal human rights and freedom and religious liberty and equality everywhere, and abandoned those who ruled with a closed fist and persecuted their people? Imagine the world we would live in. And imagine the high regard we would have around the world.

We revere peacemakers in history. Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Dr. King, Bishop Romero, Mother Teresa. And we look for them in our time as well. Think of the Orthodox priests in Ukraine a few weeks ago, standing between the clashing lines of protestors and police in Kiev. OR Aung San Suu Kyi in Burma, who for decades has tried to bring democracy and peace to her country.

As followers of Christ, we have a duty to oppose conflict and violence anywhere is arises. We must stand against the use of force to settle differences, no matter the reason. Jesus in his example showed us the path of nonviolence. Even at the point when one would think violence was most warranted, in the Garden when the guards show up to arrest Jesus and take him to his death, he implores his disciples to put away their swords.

It is impossible to live out Jesus' requirements for our lives if we make violence a part of our lives. You cannot practice love and forgiveness and mercy and acceptance if you are practicing violence. The ideas are fundamental opposites.

And the transformative thing about peace and nonviolence, the thing Jesus showed us, is that if we each sincerely practice it in our own lives, it will spread! If we are peaceful to those around us, and to the world around us, it will rub off on others, and begin to spread. If we show love for others and accept them, they will feel compelled to live the same. And eventually it will spread to our institutions, to our governments, across the planet.

We Christians knew this once. We spent the better part of three centuries practicing peace and spreading it across the Mediterranean. And then, we got sidetracked. Constantine decided to use Christianity as his standard in battle, and we bought in. We liked the feeling it gave us to be the one's in power now, the ones wielding the sword, rather than those feeling it's bite. And we've been off track ever since, trying to equate Christ with battle and armies and guns and a violent culture. Everything He was against. Everything He taught us not to be.

Now, in America, Christianity has stood behind preemptive wars. It has been used to add a sheen on respectability to assassinations and torture and coups. It has been enveloped in our gun culture, wrapped around armed revolution and the need to use violence to "protect" one's self.

It's our duty to return Christianity to its original form. Jesus showed us that nonviolence would protect us, would make us respected, would make us leaders. We have a duty to show to world again what He taught. "Blessed are the peacemakers" is essential to Christianity. It is at the heart of who we are. Let's show the world we can live with peace.

Read Part 1: Blessed are the poor in spirit. 
Read Part 2: Blessed are those who mourn.
Read Part 3: Blessed are the meek 
Read Part 4: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness
Read Part 5: Blessed are merciful  
Read Part 6: Blessed are the pure in heart

The Sermon on the Mount in Our World, Part 4: Blessed are Those Who Hunger and Thirst For Rigtheousness

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled." -Matthew 5:6

The Rays of the Holy Trinity flow downward to the Bible and the Baptismal shell representing righteousness for which they hunger and thirst. The Staff and Cross represent the Lord as our Shepherd.

 Righteousness is one of those good old church words. You know the ones I'm talking about. One of those words you hear a thousand times on Sundays as a kid growing up, but have absolutely so idea what it means. And then as you grow up, you are expected to absorb the meaning somehow and understand when it is referenced.

Like through osmosis with the preacher or something.

But no one really ever explains it to us. So what is righteousness?

Websters Dictionary defines righteousness as the noun form of the adjective "righteous." And righteous is defined as "acting in accord with divine or moral law," and "morally right or justifiable."  A subheading says "arising from an outraged sense of justice or morality."

I like that. We are getting somewhere.

"An outraged sense of justice or morality" is what I think Jesus is getting at in Matthew 5:6. So far, through three verses, he has blessed groups of downtrodden people.

The poor in spirit.

Those who mourn.

The meek.

Now, he is blessing "those who hunger and thirst for righteousness." I don't think he is invoking another downtrodden group here. I think, in wrapping up the first half of the eight Beatitudes, he is putting the bow on top of the first three, so to speak.

If you peek ahead a little, the last Beatitude also invokes "Righteousness." Interesting, huh?

So who are these people who "hunger and thirst for righteousness"?

As we have seen, the outcasts of ancient Palestine were forgotten groups of people. The ill. The widows. The gentle. Jesus has already upended things by giving his first Blessings to these outcasts. Now, Jesus is calling on his disciples and followers. By blessing those "Who hunger and thirst for righteousness," he is telling his listeners who they are called to be.

And what a way to describe them! Not just those who want to see righteousness. Those who "hunger and thirst" for it! Those who are starving for righteousness, who are parched for righteousness. One who hungers or thirsts is not one who is just mildly uncomfortable or annoyed. Think about a time you have been really, really hungry or thirsty. The feeling wraps you it up, it consumes you. All you can think about is eating or drinking something.

Jesus wants us to feel a need for righteousness in the same way.

Jesus doesn't just want his followers to see injustice in the world and have a casual reaction to it. He doesn't want them to simply respond with a small cash donation, or 30 minutes bagging meals for the hungry. He wants them to feel the need to rectify it as a deep, painful sensation!

In Palestine, as we have seen, injustice was a huge part of society. So many people lived in poverty, and in need. And with the rule of the Romans, the Jewish people were regarded as scarcely better than livestock. Rome's justice was not one that made sense to the people of Palestine. It did not play by the rules that their God had laid out two thousand years earlier to Moses. It was impersonal and distant and unjust.

But it was the just the way the world was. It was accepted as the way of the world. Rome's dominance was accepted as inevitable, as they swept across the Western world unstoppably over the past century. Unjust? Yes. Unexpected? Not at all.

Jesus wanted to shake the people of Palestine out of this acceptance of injustice! He wanted them to look at the inequality and poverty and bleakness of the world and be just as outrage as He was! He wanted them to feel a righteous anger over it so deep they could taste it. And he knew this "outraged sense of justice or morality" would propel them on to action.

And he made it very easy to realize if you were doing the right thing. One who "hungers and thirsts" doesn't just accept that and move on. They try to quench that hunger and thirst. They don't stop until they find food or drink to satisfy them. By blessing those who hunger and thirst, Jesus told us, "If you really, really care about righteousness, about the injustice in the world, you will not stop until you have quenched your hunger and thirst to see it made it right."

Injustice is still a huge part of the world. It's a huge part of the very nation we live in. So many people in America live in poverty, live with food insecurity, live with the constant threat of violence. Inequality in our country is more pronounced than ever, and much more pronounced than in much of the rest of the world.

And yet we just accept that that is the way it is.

We say it's their own fault. They are lazy and weak and don't want to work hard and only want a handout. We say they should pulls themselves up, nothing is standing in their way. We say the free market should not be interfered with, that it knows what is the right balance of equality in the world. We say that the rich obviously earned what they have. We say it's not our problem. It's unfortunate, but we can't do anything about it. We say there will always be poor and hungry people. We say it is structural, and the price of a free capitalist society.

If you hunger and thirst for righteousness, you don't say any of these things.

You don't just accept poverty and hunger and inequality as inevitable. You don't just accept the injustice in the world. You act. You quench that hunger and thirst you feel deep down inside, and you don't stop until it is done.

If you hunger and thirst for righteousness, you will be filled. But you have to make it happen.

Read Part 1: Blessed are the poor in spirit. 
Read Part 2: Blessed are those who mourn.
Read Part 3: Blessed are the meek

The Sermon on the Mount in Our World, Part 3: Blessed Are the Meek

"Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth." -Matthew 5:5

The lamb symbolizes the meek. The water represents the living water. The fish represents Christianity.

The third beatitude is one of the most beloved of Jesus' sayings, and also one of the most dismissed. It is also one of the most difficult to think about how to live.

This arises from the problems with the word "meek." To be meek is not something that is not very highly looked upon in the world. One who is meek is one who submits, who shuns conflict. In the hyper-masculine world of 1st century Palestine, and the equally hyper-masculine world today, these are not qualities that folks strive for.

In Palestine, as throughout most of history, men were the center of society. They were the only ones allowed to one property, conduct business, attend the synagogue, or travel. The men who were most esteemed were the strong, the smart, the assertive. The ones capable of defending their family and their property, both through their dealings with others and through violence, if necessary. This tough manliness was the view of the ideal man.

So it would be natural that after blessing those who mourn, with a focus on widows and women, that Jesus now blesses again those who don't conform to the accepted view of manhood in the world.

The Greek word used in the original scripture, praus, was an active verb. It conveyed the idea of one who is actively meek in the world, one who actively goes out of their way to be humble and gentle and friendly, as opposed to rough, hard, suspicious of others or violent. In fact, a more accurate translation of praus in the light of today's vocabulary would be gentle.

So why did Jesus call blessing upon the meek?

All through his ministry, Jesus led an example that can only be described as actively meek. Later in his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches that we should turn the other cheek when someone strikes us, instead of retaliating.

In Matthew 18:4, he teaches that he who possesses true greatness is the one who "becomes humble like this child."

In Matthew 11:29, he refers to himself as gentle and humble.

In Matthew 26:52, he admonishes Peter to put away his sword, saying "For all who take the sword will perish by the sword."

Jesus' ministry was one of continual meekness. It was a ministry where he taught us that the way to change the world, to bring the Kingdom of God on Earth, was not through "manly" virtues like violence and force and hardness, but through love and kindness and serving others. It was a focus on being a friend to those in need, of being gentle to others and humble in our actions and thoughts.

I love this verse for this series because it has a direct parallel to today's world. We still revere the "ideal man" image. We tell our sons they need to be tough and hard, and not to trust anybody.

This bleeds over into leaders. We are told we should vote for the "tough" candidate, the one who will put criminals behind bars forever, who will play hardball with other world leaders, who won't coddle the weak in society. We like the loud and boisterous and confident-to-the-point-of-arrogant candidate.

But is this the kind of leader Jesus would have of choose? Is this the ideal He would want us to live?

Clearly not! We are instructed to be meek, to be gentle, to be humble. We are shown this example, and are supposed to follow it in all aspects of life. We should demand that our leaders show gentleness towards the needy, humility in their words and actions towards others, and yes, meekness in their attitude. We should demand that our leaders lead with these attributes, instead of raw force and power. We should demand they practice gentleness, and present our nation as a nation that is gentle and humble, instead of throwing our weight around and imposing our will on people who don't want it.

As the church, we are called upon first and foremost to live this life. We are to be the examples. The church should be humble. It should be gentle and welcoming. It should have open arms and an open attitude towards others. As the saying goes, we are to be the change we want to see in our world.

Because Jesus tells us that it is the meek who will inherit the world. It is the humble who will rule in His Kingdom. Being manly and tough and harsh may get us somewhere in this world, but we are called to embody the new world. It is not those virtues that will win in the end. If we want to see the Kingdom of God here on Earth, we need to be the leaders Jesus tells us will have that Kingdom.

Blessed are the meek, the gentle, the humble, says Jesus. Be like the little children. Put away your swords.

Is that us?

Read Part 1: Blessed are the poor in spirit. 
Read Part 2: Blessed are those who mourn.

The Sermon on the Mount in Our World, Part 2: Blessed Are Those Who Mourn

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." -Matthew 5:4

The eagle flying into the sun symbolizes the Resurrection and the Life. The flames reprisent the Holy Spirit flowing down from the resurrection to comfort the kneeling figure in mourning. The hands with the shovel represent burial. The tearful eye also symbolizes mourning.

In our first look at the Sermon on the Mount on Wednesday, I talked about "Blessed are the poor in spirit," and tied it to those who are suffering from depression, addiction, and mental illness. Today's passage logically follows in Jesus' blessings.

In first-century Palestine, Jesus' listeners would have known who specifically he spoke about when he said "those who mourn." Those who mourned the most publicly and with the greatest feeling were widows. Because, to be a widow in Jewish culture was truly a terrible fate. A woman's fate in the Jewish culture was inextricably tied to her husband.She could own no land or property, she could not engage in business, she was not allowed to travel on her own. She was her father's property until marriage, and her husband's thereafter.

So for a woman to lose her husband was a veritable ostracizing event. The Old Testament laws tried to account for their situation by commanding the brothers of dead men to marry the widows. But if these men were married, or a man had no brothers, often times a woman was out of luck. The loss of her husband meant she no longer had a place in the world.

This is why you hear Jesus talk so much about praying and caring for widows. They were outcasts, forgotten and abandoned. So when Jesus says, "Blessed are those who mourn," he is calling blessing down upon women who have no hope. Women who feel no comfort, who have been forgotten by society and felt behind in the world.

So lets fast forward to today's world.

And shift gears.

I want to focus on two groups of people who probably feel they have almost nothing in common, but are more related than they think.

Abortion is the hottest of hot button issues in our current political climate. Since Roe v. Wade in 1972, it has become the major dividing line between our two political parties. It stirs passions on both sides of the aisle like nothing else, and rightfully so. It is an issue wrapped in our human identity and our morality.

As I see it, there are really three groups involved in the abortion debate: those who want to make it illegal, those who want to see it's legality preserved, and those who have ever had abortion (who fall into both other categories pretty evenly.)

And I think all groups involved are greatly misunderstood.

Anti-abortion activists view pro-choice activists as heartless relativists who have no regard for unborn children, and are in fact knowingly complicit in an act tantamount to murder.

Pro-choice activists view anti-abortion activists are misogynistic neanderthals driven by a dogmatic religious creed that has no regard for women's rights or bodily autonomy.

And those who have had an abortion are often pushed aside, forgotten after their ordeal, demonized by one group, and held up as a political victory by the other.

But they are the ones who mourn.

Those arguing this issue forget the tragic and unimaginably difficult decision making process these women go through. Often alone, and frightened, and ashamed, they don't see a better option for their lives. Many are poor. Many are single. Many have families who would condemn them, or even ostracize them, for being pregnant.

They may have felt like they had no choice with the man they were with. They may have been the victim of a rape, either from a stranger or a friend or even a spouse. Maybe their birth control failed. Above all, this isn't their fault. Our society has a disturbing tendency to make them feel that way. But it's not. As the saying goes, it takes two.

They probably realize they are in no financial place to raise a child. They are already in a non-optimal situation, and can't afford the doctor's appointments, the clothes and food and car seats and everything else it takes to raise a child. They don't want their child to live a life of poverty.

And so they feel as if they have no other choice. And then they feel dirty. They feel like they are the lowest of the low for even thinking of abortion. But they don't know where else to turn.

So they find a local clinic. But, in today's world, now they often have to go through state-mandated counseling. And a state-mandated ultrasound. And they may have the state mandate that they have to hear a verbal description of their baby. And then there may be a state-mandated waiting period.

As if this wasn't already hard enough.

And there may be protesters outside the clinic who yell things like "baby killer!" at them. And hold signs with pictures of aborted fetuses. Or maybe a pro-choice group wants them to speak about their exercising of their rights.

These are the one's who mourn. No one uses abortion as birth control, contrary to some rhetoric. This is a decision brought about by a lack of hope, by a feeling that they are alone and have no other choice. It's not one approached with anything other fear and sadness and mourning. And those emotions continue after. There is no sense of closure, no lifting of a weight.

Our leaders will continue to debate abortion as a campaign issue. They will do little to change the status quo, because it makes such an effective political cudgel to motivate the faithful.

Meanwhile, there will be thousands of women who mourn.

As followers of Christ, we need to embrace these women. We need put aside any judgment, any urge we may have to politicize their ordeal. We need to comfort them, welcome them, help them heal. We need to present an image to the world that helps women understand they have choices, that they aren't dirty, that they aren't at fault. We need to understand that abortion is a complicated issue, one with a lot of gray area. We need to realize that women consider it for legitimate reasons, go through with it for legitimate reasons. We need to realize that they need us, both before and after abortion.

Because these are the ones who mourn.

Read Part 1: Blessed are the poor in spirit.

O Holy Night

This is a special guest post from my wonderful wife, Arianna. She is a former religion major, a youth minster, and an all-world vocalist. She posted this on Facebook, but it needs a wider audience. Enjoy.

What is that special song that you long to hear each year? That song that is so holy that you dare not think of it until Thanksgiving is past? For me, it has always been "O Holy Night". It is that sweeping melody, simple and beautiful in its verses and knee-casting in its chorus, that gives me chills every time. 

I make a mental note of the first time I hear "O Holy Night" each Christmas season (as if it has some sort of implication about my year past?) My first year of college, it was in a McDonald's parking lot while devouring a 10 piece nugget meal. This year, it was at Hobby Lobby while shopping for decorations for Julian's first birthday. It was muzac. (Does that mean I was cheezy this past year?!)

Okay, I'm kind of obsessed with this song.

My favorite version? John Rutter's arrangement, always beautifully performed by the Boston Avenue United Methodist Church youth choir. The "King's College, Cambridge" rendition is exceptional as well.

Some more great versions: Celtic Woman is always amazing, and never disappoints. Celine Dion's is incredible as well.

My criteria for determining whether or not I like any given version of the song is pretty simple. It must:

1) Be sincere and heart-felt
2) Be in tune
3) Include a choir or ensemble

and MOST importantly:

Include this verse--

Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall he break, for the slave is our Brother
And in His name, all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name.

I cringe when I hear versions of the song without this verse. Mariah Carey's is one, Carrie Underwood's is another--there are many. I guess they just want to sing "Fall on Your Knees" twice. I suppose that's what the producers think people want to hear. We are all about the "feel good" part of religion, aren't we?

I know, I'm being snarky.

But seriously. That verse, that beautiful verse, IS what Christmas is all about. Christmas is about God coming to earth, making God's self human in form, and turning the tables on the Roman Empire, and on those whose religion clouded their view of the Holy. Our world indeed is broken, but we have this incredible example of a man who was so in tune with God that he had the audacity to boldly oppose the religious leaders of the day. He had the nerve to tell us that our presuppositions about God and the people in God’s world were incomplete at best.

I’ve been asking people this question lately: What example of oppression in our world makes you angry?

The interesting thing is, most people can’t answer that question.

What if we are to embody the Christ child in all we do? What if we are to be the light of the world, the hope of the world? What if there’s more to Christmas than celebrating the birth of Jesus—what if we ask God for new eyes to see what Jesus saw, and for the courage that we’ll need to propel us into action?

So this Christmas, Let all within us praise God's Holy name by identifying oppression in our world and DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

Jesus did.