The Dawn's Early Light

Every nation has its own creation myth. In ancient history, the story would go like this: The god of such and such a people engaged in a violent, bloody, cosmic battle with an adversary, the adversary was killed, and the new nation was born. This creation event served as both justification and inspiration for that nation's future military activities.

While not as obvious in our scientifically "enlightened" modern times, the deeply religious nature of our own civil cult has similar manifestations. Pagan sacrifice is alive and well as men and women are glorified for giving their lives in military service, in an endless crusade to preserve the nation's very existence. Their sacrifice is surrounded by symbols which are invoked in reverent piety by vestment and gesture. Uniforms of rank and authority demand homage in the form of salute and stature as grand ceremonies surround the deaths of the sacrificed victims. The national anthem is also played with proper, pious pose, reminding all of the unconquerable symbol of our sacred, blood drenched origin.

While it is heroic and noble for individuals to give their lives to save others, another, deeper story is being told here, one that preaches that abundant life (or freedom, as some like to call it) is not possible without the perpetual shedding of blood, without perpetual sacrifice and perpetual violence. It is a constant cycle of creation, death and regeneration, as the undying spirit of "we the people" defeat the unending challenges to perceived rights. Friends, this is a salvation story if ever there was one.

God's story, however, is different. There was no struggle, no violence. God simply spoke and it came to be. (There is good scholarship showing that the Genesis account was written primarily to subvert the Mesopotamian creation story, a culture that constantly tempted Israel with its idolatrous practices.)

Calling things into being which were not. Calling a people his own people, which were not a people. And redeeming them with a sacrifice offered once and for all, through the free gift of his only begotten son. He offers abundant life, true freedom, now, to all of us. This is not just some hope for a distant, future utopia. This is how we are called to live now, in the midst of these other competing salvation stories and demands for allegiance.

Deliver Me From Institutions!

Yesterday, as I was exiting the parking lot of the grocery store, a middle aged woman crossed in front of me holding a cardboard sign. I had just enough time to read "Homeless...Need Help...God Bless You" as I passed by. I drove along trying to think of how I could help her with my three kids in car seats and two weeks worth of carefully planned menus in the trunk. By the time I decided to invite her out to lunch and just talk to her, it was too late. She had already left.

Why did it take so long for me to formulate a plan? I am realizing that I am a slave to institutionalized thinking, a slave to organized religion. All my life I have heard or been shown:
1. Don't talk to strangers.
2. Give poor people food, not money.
3. Let the shelters and other ministries take care of them.

But that is a far cry from what our Lord and his apostles taught us:
1. Entertain the stranger.
2. Give to anyone who asks you.
3. Do not let your right hand know what your left hand is doing. Official ministries make their good deeds obvious. For practical reasons, of course. But if every follower of Jesus were in the habit of helping whoever God might bring into their path, not even thinking about the hows and whys and proper ways of dong good, I think God would be better pleased with us.

I hope God will give me another chance soon. I also ask the aid of his Spirit to help me unlearn the habits of thought I have been a slave to, particularly those of practicality and realism. The reality is that the cost of discipleship is very high. In fact, it costs everything.

Some Christmas Musings

An Uncommon Restoration

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for he hath visited and redeemed his people;

And hath raised up a mighty salvation for us, in the house of his servant David;

As he spake by the mouth of his holy Prophets, which have been since the world began;

That we should be saved from our enemies, and from the hand of all that hate us.

To perform the mercy promised to our forefathers, and to remember his holy covenant;

To perform the oath which he sware to our forefather Abraham, that he would give us;

That we being delivered out of the hand of our enemies might serve him without fear;

In holiness and righteousness before him, all the days of our life.” (Luke 1: 68-75)

These words of Zechariah, and also Mary's song, the Magnificat, have got me questioning, looking deeper this Advent and Christmas season. The burning question in my mind is how? How did Jesus' birth accomplish the raising up of the humble and meek, the filling of the hungry with good things, the deliverance of his people from their enemies, the fulfillment of God's oath to Abraham?

All to often, I fear, we, living centuries later, have lost touch with the scene upon which Jesus arrived: the desolation of Israel, and their longed for deliverance. We make Jesus out to be this white-looking guy who could have been born anywhere, at any time, and accomplish the same thing- a universally applicable atonement for the personal sin of all of mankind (or at least the chosen). While this might satisfy the dogmatic, systematic brains of 15^th century theologians and their modern counterparts, it would hardly have been comforting to a Jew living in the first century under Roman oppression and longing for the consolation of Israel. Imagine telling Mary, or one of the shepherds, or Simeon, or any one of the people who experienced such joy at the news of Jesus' birth, that the salvation they were promised amounted to nothing more than having each of their personal sins paid for, like the time they stole a fish or lusted after their neighbor's spouse. That would be like telling them to forget about Israel's problems. Why not just be glad that they were allowed go to heaven when they died? It sounds preposterous. They knew the Law, the Psalms and Prophets, that God freely forgave the sins of the contrite. And the hope of bodily resurrection had given strength to many Jewish martyrs before them. But what they longed for was a forgiveness on a national level, to see Israel once again restored to God's right hand as chief among the nations. Because they knew that Israel's God was King of all the nations, and that Israel was his special people. And they knew that Israel had fallen from God's favor.

But now they knew that God was doing exactly what they were hoping for! We are told that Zechariah was full of the Holy Spirit when he spoke these words, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for he hath visited and redeemed his people.” A new Exodus was underway! God was once again baring his arm and preparing to unleash his might. And this time it would be nothing less than a new creation. A new covenant order under a new Adam for a newly defined Israel.

But it still is odd the way he did it. He sent a messenger to a peasant girl, telling her that she was the highly favored one to bear his Son. He chose a common carpenter to provide a home and vocation for him. He announced his young prince's arrival to a band of simple shepherds. And for royal companions he provided fishermen, thieves and outcasts. When the time drew near for the kingly heir to take on the powers of the nations, his steed of choice was a little donkey's colt, hardly tall enough to lift his feet off the dust. Last of all, our ruler elect was given over to the fate of all the failed Messiahs before him, a Roman crucifixion.

Where was the promised deliverance? Was it the resurrection? Yes, but this meant more to his followers than a promised afterlife. It meant that God had once again mocked all the strength of man, the rulers of the nations who exercise dominion over people. Like Egypt and Babylon before, Caesar was mocked, Pilate was mocked, Herod was mocked, the chief priests and the chief theologians were all mocked. God defeated them all and all their ideologies. They could not keep this nobody from Nazareth down. The one who promised that the meek would be the ones to inherit the earth. The one who taught his followers to look to God alone for protection and sustenance. The one who offered the ultimate freedom from their enemies- by teaching them to love them. This one, this son of Abraham, was raised from the dead, was exalted as king over all the nations and ascended to God's right hand.

But why were his followers so persecuted? And why are they still, at least those who have chosen not to align themselves with those in power who promise protection and freedom in exchange for patriotic faith? It is because, like Jesus, we must be made perfect through suffering. When we let go our grasping for property, for food and clothing, for comfort, for life, then we allow ourselves to be wholly possessed by love. A love so perfect that it is willing to die for those who are enemies. And that is what we were when Jesus Christ died for us.

But it is more than a willingness to suffer wrong. Throughout history, one nation after another has risen, and fallen. Yet God continues to bless the earth with rain, with seed time and harvest. He blesses the way of the simple. He gives strength for work, and sleep at the sun's going down. He gives us children and laughter, bread and wine, communion with himself and community with his people. Massey Shepherd, Jr., recalls Mary's song and its fulfillment in this context. He writes, “In the outpouring of his Spirit upon his church the disciples knew themselves partakers of the age to come, and to “have tasted the heavenly gift” (Heb 6:4-5). And in the loving fellowship of service one to another, now centered in the holy banquet Table, he had truly “exalted the humble and meek” and had “filled the hungry with good things”. “ And he continues, “It was characteristic of the simplicity as also of the depth of our Lord's discernment that in leaving us a memorial of himself, he should choose, not some strange and exotic ceremony, but an action universal in human experience- the family meal. He took the most obvious symbol of common life and made it the supreme sacrament of his life.” (Massey Shepherd, Jr, “The Worship of the Church”, pg 146, the Seabury Press, 1952)

Here, then, in the most ordinary of places, is the perfected order for the divine social life. To discover this people have fought and slain, argued and died, and written constitutions and all manner of laws- all for vanity! Because it is only when we change and become like little children that we will hear Jesus calling and beckoning us to freely sit down with him and eat and drink as kings at his table. It is only when we are joined to him as family that we will learn to work together in love and peace, reaping the good of the earth for the good of all with thanksgiving, and offering ourselves to him who gives us himself for food and drink and life.

And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways;

To give knowledge of salvation unto his people for the remission of their sins,

Through the tender mercy of our God; whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited us;

To give light to them that sit in darkness, and in the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Luke 1:76-79)

May we all let our feet be guided into this Way. Amen.

National Treasure

A is my slice of this American Pie

Bodies bled for it

Cops clubbed for it

Dogs drooled

Everyone envies for a bite of it

Felons forfeited it

Gold was gambled away to finance it

Hats were heaved in the air to cheer for it

I inherited it.

Jailers had jobs because of it

Kneelers knelt in thanksgiving for it

Laborers languished under it

Masses were murdered for it

No one really needed it

Orators orated

Politicians paid their way into it

Quotes of old were quoted about it

Reporters reinforced it

Soldiers slaughtered and were slaughtered for it

Teachers taught it

Universities undergirded it

Voters vouched for it

Writers wrote

Xerox machines xeroxed the forms that you had to fill out if you were willing to take part in it

You get yelled at if you don't want it any more

Zealots are zealous for it

Now that I know my ABC's, I long for a different alphabet. How can I sell out without being a rotten sellout? But this pearl of great price has turned out to be a counterfeit. Can I just put it in the recycling bin and hope they make something better next time? Or can I confound it all by striving for the lowest servitude?

The Man Without a Country

I remember having to read a short story by this title in 7th grade. I don't remember who it was by, but it was about an ex-soldier who was sentenced to remain at sea for the rest of his life because he denied his country. But he kept with him some cloth upon which he sewed a star for every state that joined the Union thereafter, following the growth of the nation by looking at the flags of the other ships that he met. At his death, he bequeaths the finished flag to a young person whom he charges never to take for granted his national identity.

I remember being moved by that story at such a young age. I was proud of my national heritage. I thought it would be a great thing to die for my country...

But what is my country? What gives me the right to claim a piece of soil as my own that once belonged to someone else? That was taken by violence and continues to be defended by violence? What person or group of people has the authority to draw arbitrary lines on God's earth and decide who can live within them and who can't, and what those within can and cannot do?

I've read another story, too. About a man who had no country, not even a place to lay his head. Yet he was the rightful heir of the whole world. He did not come conquering with military might, though he had hordes of angels at his command. He accepted no place of power, though everyone wanted to crown him king after they saw how he could heal the sick and make bread multiply. He did not overthrow the Hasmonian priest/king elite that had taken over the temple cult, nor the Herodians who kissed up to the empire. He led no rebellion against the Roman occupation as the zealots wished, nor enforced the rituals of Moses' law that defined the Jewish nation as the Pharisees would have liked. He did not retreat into the wilderness to await God's judgment upon the unfaithful while living an exaggerated purity as the Essenes would have commended either. Instead he disappointed everyone and died the utterly disgraceful death of a failed messiah, a national criminal, a traitor both to Judaism and Rome, cut off from the holy city like some stinking, unclean thing. And he said, "If any would come after me......."

Crazy. Who would want to follow that guy?

Yet he said, "Take my yoke upon you and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." He had no fear, nothing to prove, no reason to stake a claim for himself, no desire to build wealth, no land or family to defend with sword and bow, but surrendered himself, body and soul, to his Father's will. "Therefore he was exalted and given the name that is above every name....."

My country, my land, my people- my Father's world. Irish folk musician, Luka Bloom, has a song called "Tribe" that celebrates the kinship he shares with all living things, gently offering an alternative to the proud nationalism of those around him.

Where is your tribe?

A Living Room Matrix

Here is a little piece of fiction I wrote inspired by "The Politics of Jesus" and a rough week I had with my little son, who was teething. If it sounds a little insane, that is why. :)
I've added an introduction to the original version, because my husband thought it was too enigmatic. Or something.

A Living Room Matrix


This is the story of your everyday monarch. He has a kingdom, real estate, two royal automobiles and a credit card. At almost every election, he faithfully takes his monarchial self to the voting polls and votes. He also affixes his signature to numerous petitions presented by his underlings. And on days when he feels especially generous, he has been known to purchase a box of Girl Scout cookies...


Old King Cole shifted uncomfortably on his throne and heaved his round belly in a long, loud sigh. He was usually a merry old soul, but today neither pipe, nor bowl, nor fiddlers three could lift the smog of boredom that had lowered itself upon him.

Mechanically, he lifted his scepter and began toying with it lazily. It glinted in the sunlight that flowed profusely through the tall windows of the Great Hall. Studded with gems, multicolored, laid in perfect rows, compact, efficient...

The fiddlers droned on. Old King Cole changed the channel. The news was on, bad news of course. More turmoil throughout the kingdom. He began to mutter his opinions of the individuals he had chosen to run the world for him. A wailing was heard in the distance. He tried to ignore it, and switched back to the fiddlers. His eye wandered distractedly from the large screen, roved about the room, along the tiled floor, over the fake tropical plant in the gilded urn, then to the bearded man by the doorway in monk's habit, with empty hands, and sandals on his feet.

The king gave a start. “How did you get past the security system?” he demanded fiercely. Then he bit his lip in sudden shame as recognition seeped into his pudgy brain. He lowered his face, but realized the man was smiling at him. The man spoke.

“Follow me.”

At the sound of these words, the fat old king leaped to his feet, feeling as if a great weight had fallen off his shoulders. The smog vanished, he laughed aloud and, throwing back his arm, he sent the scepter hurtling through the air and into the royal pond where it landed with a satisfying kersplash! Then, as fast as his merry little legs could carry him, he ran after the bearded man with the empty hands and sandals on his feet.

The man led him into a small room, where a baby sat, ejecting a loud, dismal sound from out of his round, down curled mouth. From the look of things, and the air about the place, sound was not the only thing being ejected that day, and it appeared that this was the source of the sorrowful wail. The king, still laughing, assessed the situation in an instant, and, bending down, lifted the the child in his arms.

Which left the fiddlers to play to an empty recliner, a half drunk can of Coke, a bag of chips, and a goldfish to goggle at the strange rectangular device that had landed in her tank. Studded with buttons, multicolored, laid in perfect rows...

And where now is the bearded man in monk's habit, with the empty hands and sandals on his feet? And who is that clean diapered baby, who grins and shrieks, and the fat old king, who tickles his toes?

The Politics of Jesus

I finished the above titled book by John Howard Yoder over a week ago and it has been one of the best reads in a long time. I would have to rate it up there with "The New Testament and the People of God" by N. T. Wright as one of the few great books in my life. "The Politics of Jesus" did not challenge as much paradigm restructuring as with Wright's book, since I was already familiar with most of Yoder's arguments, but it certainly helped clarify and unify a lot of the ideas that have been forming in my mind the past several years.

The book is composed of several essays, some of which could almost stand alone, but if I could sum up the essence of this work in one sentence, I would have to say that the underlying theme was that we must read the New Testament, and particularly the Gospels, with the recognition that Jesus ministry was very political in nature, and the ethic that he preached was not intended to be followed in a pious, individual sense, but as the written constitution of a brand new human social institution-the new humanity of the new creation order, the kingdom of God. The utter impracticality of this Way is precisely why the cross is such a stumbling block. And the church has historically under-emphasized the radical bits of Jesus' social ethic in favor of a system of law and order based upon "nature".

By "nature" I mean an approach to social ethics that may or may not be heavily founded upon biblical "principles" or even direct commandments (The Decalogue is a prime example.) The contrast with the politics of Jesus lies in the choice of whether to exercise one's sway in the various echelons of society, for good or for ill, or to deliberately pursue subordination, humiliation, and social imbecility.