A man undone: Lent 2020

I must die.  Lent is the season that reminds me that I must die.  Die to myself.   Die to my desires, die to my hopes, die to my dreams.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer says that that “Christ bids us to come and die.” So I know th
at must die.  

            As we begin Lent, I know that this must be a season in which I reflect on my sins and to confront my own self.  But it must be more than this. I must completely undo myself…to remake myself.

            Lent is about putting to death all the things that are in opposition to God. Lent is about self-reflection and re-centering yourself around God’s will for your life.  But…where does this leave me?

            I must die.

            I must undo that which I have become.  I must…unbecome.

            Lent tells me that I must sacrifice all…that I must be willing…no…must be able…to endure the complete reduction of who I am.

            Where to begin? How do you start to…undo yourself?  How do you start to…die?

            The first thing that must go is my idea of career.  I no longer think of myself as a chaplain.  Rather, I think of myself as a person who works as a chaplain.  This might seems as a slight difference, but it is actually very significant.  I do not associate myself as one who is worthy to have the title, “Chaplain,” or “Chaps…” There are also those that hold that title with whom I do not wish to associate.  Is that pride on my part? But I feel that I must not think of myself as a chaplain… ‘chaplain’ as an ontological part of my being.

            Rather, I must think of myself as a man in relationship to his God.  But even so, what does that mean?

            The prophet Micah told the people of Israel to “love justice, do mercy, and to walk humbly with their God.” The season of Lent is an opportunity to learn to walk humbly with their God.

            I will confess that at 44 years old, I do not have a grasp on this.  I want to tell God what His plan is for me.  I want to direct the course of my life and most of all to expand my kingdom and my comfort. What if God’s plan is not what I want? Imagine if God is calling you to a life of obscurity…could we do it? What if God was asking us to give up our hopes and dreams…without the assurance that there is something better.  Could we do that?

            The central image of the period of Lent is Christ on the cross.  Paul writes about this and tells us that Jesus, “emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.  And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2:6-8). If Christ was willing to do this, what does that call me…us…to?

            This Lent for me is about reflecting on Christ on the cross and trying to instill humility within myself.  Prayer, reading, fasting are all part of this.  Engaging with the Stations of the Cross on a weekly basis is also a large part of my Lenten observance.   But I feel that I have to do more than this.  Periods of silence, reflection and introspection must become the norm.  Most of all, I must begin to tackle my own pride.  I must let Christ teach me to learn how to die to myself. I must put away my vain ambitions.  I must learn to be a better man…a better husband, a better father…only then can I begin to…come alive.  

Where is God?

“Where is merciful God, where is He?”

This question was asked by a man in a concentration camp as he watched two men and a young boy being hung for stealing food. It is perhaps the defining question that echoes not only from the camps, but also haunts our own lives as well.

Elie Weisel describes the scene in his book Night.

“Then came the march past the victims.  The two men were no longer alive.  Their tongues were hanging out, swollen and bluish.  But the third rope was still moving: the child, too light, was still breathing… And so he remained for more than half an hour, lingering between life and death, writing before our eyes.  And we were forced to look at him in close range.  He was still alive when I passed him.  His tongue was still red, his eyes not yet extinguished. 

“Behind me, I heard the same man asking: ‘For God’s sake, where is God?’

And from within me, I heard a voice answer: ‘Where is he? This where—hanging here from this gallows…’”

No sadder words have been written, and no truer question has ever been asked.  “Where is merciful God, where is he?”

I listen to people’s pain for a living.  It’s what I do.  I may not be good at it and the Navy may not consider me necessary, but it’s what I do. 

The scenario’s change on a daily basis, “I don’t love my wife any more,” or “My husband is cheating on me…” or “when I was young my father put his hands on me…”  “I’m tired of hurting, Chaps….I’m tired of pain…”

Behind it all, whether they know it or not, they are all asking the same question, “For God’s sake, where is God?”

Now, this is not to compare my life, or any of our lives to the horror of the Holocaust.  There are no words to describe my horror at the events of the camps or to describe my awe in those that survived.  But there is a sense in which we all ask that same question when we think of the pain in our own lives.  Where is God in the midst of all the things we go through:

Broken marriages

Financial Crisis

Cancer

Estranged relationships

Parkinson’s Disease

The death of a beloved child

In my own life, I ask where “God” is in the midst of my estrangement.  I am in virtual exile from my church and my Christian Community. The people I work with on the ship neither understand what I do nor find any value in my position.  I am alone on the other side of the world wondering if this sacrifice is worth it.  More often that not, I feel alone and wonder what I have done to be ostracized.   There are times when I wonder if God is completely done with me, casting me out and abandoning me to the forces of oblivion.

“For God’s sake, where is he?”

As I encounter people on a daily basis, I wonder if God is aware of all that we are going through. 

This is nothing compared to the other horrors of the world.  A mother kills her daughter so that she can stay with her boyfriend.  A man shoots up a church in the name of racial cleansing.  And all day I am surrounded by people who laugh at other’s misery, who take bets on whether someone will kill themselves and who consistently advocate for violent and destructive answers to problems and who belittle and bereate and dehumanize people to accomplish their own goals of self-agrandizement.

“Where is he?”

Wiesel closes that section of his book with the following comment, “that night, the soup tasted of corpses.”

In that sentence, he perfectly captures the desertion of joy, the abandonment of hope, and the futility of life.   There can be no satisfaction in life while the cries of the wounded echo throughout our world.

“For God’s sake, where is he?”

As fate would have it, at the same prison camp that Wiesel wound up was a young theologian named Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was also asking the very same question, but from a different vantage point.  He writes, “The God who is with us is the God who forsakes us (Mark 15:34). The God who let us live in the world without the working hypothesis of God is the God before whom we stand continually.  Before God and with God we live without God.  God lets himself be pushed out of the world on to the cross.  He is weak and powerless in the world, and that is precisely the way, the only way, in which he is with us and helps us…The Bible directs man to God’s powerlessness and suffering.  Only the suffering God can help.” (Letters and Papers from Prison). 

Only the suffering God can help.  God suffers.  He not only suffers for us, he suffers with us. God is not absent nor has he abandoned us to our fate with no more concern than we have for pizza boxes.  Jurgen Moltmann builds on this and states that the only help we have is the crucified God.  God knows our suffering because he Himself suffered and continues to suffer and will continue to suffer until his kingdom comes in full.

I come from a tradition that has a hard time the crucifix, or at least the corpus on the crucifix.  For a long time, I did too.  After all, Jesus has been resurrected, he is off the cross and no longer suffers the pain of death.  But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I begin to see the crucifix as a reminder that God still suffers.  He suffers on our behalf and he suffers with us and at times he suffers through us.  Perhaps this part of being crucified to the world through the cross of Christ (Galatians 6:14). 

When we are going through terrible times in our lives, we can perhaps join our voices with Wiesel, “Where is merciful God?” “He is there” and we can point to the cross, we can point to the wounds of our own lives. 

Once Upon a Sand Creek

Nov 29, 1864 probably doesn’t mean much to most of us.  But it should.

The name John Chivington probably doesn’t mean much to most of us.  But it should.  Especially to the Church.

On Nov 29, 1864, in modern Kiowa County, Colorado, approximately 150 Cheyenne, mainly women and children were slaughtered near their homes by the United States Calvary led by Col. John Chivington.  Chivington had claimed there were upwards of 500 Warriors in the village, but no evidence collaborated this.  Instead, 700 men ran down a village that was little equipped to defend itself.  After the ‘battle’, Chivington’s men returned to the scene to collect trophies of scalps and other body parts, including genitals.

Col John Chivington was known as a cold and brutal man, who employed violence to achieve his ends.  He was known for an accidental attack on a Confederate Supply Train during the Civil War, whereupon he threatened to kill his prisoners. 

But what makes Chivington noteworthy, and infamous, is that he was a Methodist Preacher.  He was a Christian.

Chivington had been appointed as a preacher by the Methodist General Convention and sent to Colorado. He was known as a ‘hell and brimstone’ preacher, one who preached the anger and wrath of God.  He preached against the existence of the Native Americans and urged his congregation members to exterminate them.  When the Civil War broke out, he applied for a commission.  When offered a commission as a Chaplain, he refused, insisting that he was going to be a warrior.  He served and was never punished for the events at Sand Creek.

Today, Chivington should remind us in the Christian Church about the dangers of extremism, of fundamentalism and of hatred wherever it shall be found.  This should be a reminder that we are not called to hate, not called to violence, but to love and to peace.  The Church needed to have helped the Cheyenne and all Natives.  A little less than a hundred years later, Dietrich Bonhoeffer would remind us that the Church has a duty, “not to simply bandage the wounds of victims of the wheels of injustice, [but] we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself.”

Sand Creek should remind us of our failures of the church in the past to even bandage the wounds.  The Cheyenne, the Sioux, the Navajo, indeed all Natives and all slaves, needed us. 

We should mourn the 29^th of November as a day when a man of peace became a man of violence.  And we should renew our commitment to serve others, to love others and to be that instrument of justice and peace that God has called us to be. 

The Hope We Sing

Isaiah 64:1-9

                Healing begins in pain.  Joy begins in sorrow.  Hope begins in Lament.

                It is Advent and soon we will be enjoying Christmas parties, Christmas carols, the lights, sounds, and smells of the ‘happiest time of the year.’ There will be mistletoe strung up for young (and not so young) lovers to kiss under.  There will be fires and egg nog and Christmas trees and sappy movies on TV.  People of all races, denominations, economic status and orientation will join their voices in singing Silent Night.

                But not today.  All of that will happen later.  Not today.

                Today as I sit the only singing I hear is the protesters in Ferguson, MO demanding to be heard.  The only fires I see are those burning up buildings in a once proud St Louis Suburb and the only decorations I see are the garish displays in department stores eagerly anticipating people to come and worship at their altars. What should be a beautiful and hopeful time of the year has turned into a parody of itself.

                And maybe that is why this reading from Isaiah is so appropriate for today.  Wheras the Old Testament readings for Advent are normally prophetic songs of coming happiness and joy, today’s text is a painful exploration of God’s absence and a lament over what has happened to the people of God.

                Isaiah lives in a time of deep turmoil where nothing is certain except disappointment, despair and destruction.  His nation has been attacked at every side and what was once a great and mighty kingdom is now destroyed and burned to the ground.  The Assyrians have come and attacked the people of Israel.  They have taken most of the kingdom off to captivity or dispersed it to the seven winds.  All that was left was the tiny city of Jerusalem, and even that is surrounded and almost brought to the place of destruction. 

                Jerusalem! The Holy City! Was burning and was under the threat of being completely and utterly destroyed.  How could such a thing happen? After all, Jerusalem was the Holy City! It was the city that YHWH lived in and from where he protected his people.  Had YHWH been defeated? Had YHWH abandoned his people?

                And that is the question that dominates this reading: where is God? Where is YHWH? Where is the Divine Presence that would come and take care of the people?

                Just before this passage, Isaiah sets the mood for it by stating: “We have long been like those who you do not rule, like those not called by your name” (Is 63:19).  We are not your people…you have forgotten us, left us, departed from us.  We are not special…even in your sight.

                And then there comes the great cry from Isaiah that opens this chapter: “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence!” (Is 64:1).  What a great image! Oh God! Just tear it off and come down! Make yourself known! Be with us! Help us! Set things right!

                Isaiah looks back at history and knows that God has helped his people in the past by wonderful and mighty deeds.  So where is God? Where is He now? Why won’t he help? Why does he not care at the situation we now find ourselves in? This entire passage speaks of Isaiah’s pain…it is pain seeking understanding! WHERE IS GOD?

                Don’t we wonder the same thing too? WHERE IS GOD?

                We see a city burned to the ground – WHERE IS GOD?

                We watch as a twelve year old boy is shot by police – WHERE IS GOD?

                We watch as our loved one suffers with debilitating cancer – WHERE IS GOD?

                We watch as terrorists behead innocent people and kill thousands more – WHERE IS GOD?

                We struggle to make ends meet, give our children clothes and food, and we get further behind every day – WHERE IS GOD?               

                Does He not care? We know that he performed miracles all throughout the Biblical times.  He walked on water, gave sight back to the blind and raised the dead.  WHERE IS HE NOW AND WHY DOESN’T HE DO THESE THINGS ANYMORE?

                Now most of us wouldn’t think to ask these questions in church…because it may sound irreverent.  Others say that He does do these thing today and provide scanty and anecdotal evidence that cannot be verified.  But even if He does, he doesn’t do it on the grand scale that He did in the Bible.  He doesn’t part the Red Sea or raise the dead or provide food for the millions of people starving around the world.  

                We are not the only ones who think about this either.  Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German theologian who was imprisoned by the Nazis.  As he thought about this very problem, he came to a very different answer:

               God would have us know that we must live as men who manage our lives without him.  The God who is with us is the God who forsakes us (Mark 15:34).  The God who lets us live in the world without the working hypothesis of God is the God before whom we stand continually.  Before God and with God we live without God.  God lets himself be pushed out of the world on to the cross.  He is weak and powerless in the world, and that is precisely the way, the only way, in which he is with us and helps us.”

“

                In essence, God allows himself to be moved out to the corners of existence because that is where he can help us the most.

                But this may not help when we see Ferguson burn or hungry people struggling to find food or single moms struggling to find answers, but maybe it provides a reason. 

                This divine absence has its negative effects on the people.  Notice in verse 5: “you were angry and we sinned, because you hid yourself, we transgressed” (64:5). Perhaps it’s a notice that we don’t do well as a people without God, without the divine essence.  Because of this, we read, "we have all become like one who is unclean and our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth.” (64:6).

                Now this is a happy tiding for the beginning of Advent, isn’t it? How come there are no Christmas carols about this?

                But there is truth in this.  Isaiah is looking at his community and he realizes that there is no one who is righteous, no one who is immune from the evil and no one who has it completely ‘right’.  But more than this, we all have our sins and we all participate in the evils of our community.  We are all, in a sense, part of the problem.

                In the reaction to Ferguson, I have noticed that there have been some who have tried to paint this into other people people’s problems.  This about ‘looters’ or ‘thugs’ or ‘police’ or….fill in the blank.  What they fail to realize is that what happened in Ferguson is indicative of the fact that our society is broken and that is because it is made up of broken individuals.

                We may never know the exact details of what happened in Ferguson.  Since there will be no trial, there will be no further chance to examine evidence.  But what we do know is that Ferguson reveals a major crack in our culture and in our society.  Our world is broken and we cannot always sing for joy when we see these cracks. 

                But this does not mean that there is no hope.  Isaiah begs and pleads with YHWH, “Do not be exceedingly angry, O Lord, and not remember iniquity forever.  Now consider we are all your people” (64:8).  Even more desperate is the end of the chapter, “Our holy and beautiful house, where our ancestors praised you, has been burned by fire, and all our pleasant places have become ruins.  After all this, will you restrain yourself, O Lord? Will you keep silent and punish us so severely?” (64:11-12).

                The answer there is supposed to be a ‘no’ that we are expecting God to show up and answer his people and to reveal his presence to us once again.  Even though our world is a mess, even though our relationships are in tatters, even though our security has been breached and even though our economy is anemic…God is not done with us and He will be heard again.

                It may be easy for us to look at Ferguson and wonder where God is.  It may even be easy for us to dismiss his presence and say that he has abandoned us and this world…but this is not the whole story.

                Advent reminds us that even in the most ruined of places, in the most desolate spots in our lives, hope can still be sung and joy can still be found.

                Right now, things look pretty bleak for race relations in the United States…even and especially in the church.  Despite Paul’s insistence that there is neither Jew nor Greek (Gal 3:23), Sunday is the most racially divided day of the week.  The break down on opinions about Ferguson came down on racial lines with over 70% of white people believing that Michael Brown got what he deserved.  The posts on the internet range from borderline insensitive to downright offensive concerning race. 

                And yet, in spite of this…there is a sense of tremendous hope.

                Church groups are beginning to bring up the issue of race in their midst once more.  Church groups are responding and reaching out to those who have needs.

                Advent reminds us that just when things seemed their most desperate, God showed up.  After 400 years of not hearing from God, Israel could have easily abandoned their beliefs about God altogether.  Their kingdom was gone, tattered in ruins.  Yet in the midst of those ruins, in the most unlikely of places, God showed up and the world was never the same.

                As we look at the smoldering ashes of Ferguson, a world tattered and in ruins, dare we to hope that God may show up again this Advent…to change the world once more? 

Do I really want to be a Christian?

Lord, I want to be a Christian…in my heart

                Or so goes the old hymn.  Many of us who have gone to church know the song and we sing it with mild enthusiasm.  The idea behind the song is that we need God’s help in being a Christian, so that it permeates our very heart and soul.  There is just one big problem.

                Christians irk me.

                Not just a little, but a lot. 

                I mean A LOT!

                We can be bigoted and self righteous towards other people.  We can tolerate some sins, but absolutely not others.  We can be conceited and treat each other like dirt.  And we fight….about EVERYTHING.  Clothes, tattoos, tobacco, sex, worship styles, politics, theology, and about everything else we drag each other through the mud and we do it in the name of God. 

                I know this is nothing new.  This has been going on since the Church was established.  In fact, most of the New Testament is about Christians fighting each other.  Just about every other page is a new heresy or bad decision (usually by Peter) or about food sacrificed to idols.   It’s amazing that there never seems to be a period of agreement in the Church. 

                With all of the fighting that goes on and has gone on, we tend to forget the clear and central claim of the gospel that Jesus offers: “Follow me” (Mark 1:17).  In fact most of the gospels seem to be about expanding that call and discovering what it means for a disciple to come and follow Jesus.  This call seems to have dire consequences on the believer because Bonhoeffer writes, “when Christ calls a man, he bids him to come and die.” Bonhoeffer wrote his book Discipleship around the central issue of following Jesus.

                But can we really do this today? What does it mean to ‘Follow Jesus’? The disciples were lucky in this regard because they could literally follow Jesus from place to place.  We don’t have that luxury. 

                When I think about the call of Jesus, I certainly think it extends way beyond the paths of fighting about dogma and about deciding what side I am on concerning sexual orientation. I get the sense that Jesus is calling us to something higher, something more productive, something….bigger than our traditional squabbles. 

                Perhaps it’s time that all of us Christians look at ourselves and really begin to question what it means to follow Jesus.  Maybe the question is not do I want to become a Christian? But perhaps the question comes to be: what sort of Christian do I want to be?

                And for me the answer is, “I want to be a Christian that follows Jesus”.   What that means, however, has yet to be fully explored.

Joy to the World!

           

          I meet a lot of people by accident.  It is just my lot, it seems.  Either I amble up to somebody and start talking (thinking they are somebody else) or people come and start talking to me, thinking I am somebody else.  At first, I was pretty put off by it, but before long, I’ve learned to roll with it.  I mean, we can all learn something from everybody and we should be open to new experiences every day.   Sometimes things go really well and we both walk away from the encounter having learned something or have just enjoyed each other’s company.   Sometimes, things go bad and then there is awkward moment that happens before one of us leaves.  But mostly, it’s ok. 

            I remember this one time, however, when I was NOT who was expected.  I was visiting somebody in the hospital and they clearly thought I was the priest to come and give them last rights.  Now, it’s important to know that this person was not anywhere close to dying.  They had come in for a relatively minor problem, but because I had been identified as a clergy member, they assumed that the end was near for them.  So, before I could stop her, out came a list of every sin she had committed…and we are not talking about minor ones here!  “Pastor, I had an affair with my neighbor and I never told my husband, I committed insurance fraud and I have a bunch of unpaid parking tickets!”  There was an awkward silence as she caught her breath, in which the doctor was able to say, “Ma’am….you are going to be fine.”  She looked at the doctor…then looked at me…then looked around the room at everybody who was in the room.  I have never seen anybody look redder.

            I was not who she expected…but then again, she was not in the situation she had thought.  I don’t know what ever happened to her, but I like to think that she took that moment as a real opportunity to look at her life, to rejoice in it and to change.

            Today’s Gospel reading is about expecting the right person.  Advent is about waiting with joy for the right person to come and to set all things new. 

            In our lesson, we find John the Baptist in jail.  John is one of those types of people we should probably expect to find in jail.  After all, he was bold in his proclamation and spoke the truth to power.  He even confronted Herod about his practices and that is why he wound up in jail. 

            Prison is a place of waiting…waiting either for release or for death.  German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who spent the last two years of his life in a prison cell, reflected that “A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes, does various unessential things, and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent.”[1]  But John is waiting and he is uncertain about his waiting around.  He is not sure what it is all about.

            John had initially pointed out Jesus from the crowd.  When Jesus emerged from the crowd to be baptized, John declared, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29) He says this with such confidence and such boldness that today’s text has us do a double take.  John has now been waiting in prison for a long time, that he sends his messengers to Jesus and asks the question, “are you the one to come, or should we expect another?” 

            Talk about an embarrassing question to have asked.  Could you imagine the discussion that John’s disciples have on the way to meet Jesus?  “So…he boss seemed pretty sure of himself…” “Yeah…what do you think Jesus will say?”

            It might be easy for us to look down on John, but don’t we do the same thing and ask the very same question?  We might have a little bit more wiggle room…after all, it’s been two thousand years , and Jesus still has not returned.  It’s been two thousand years and those miracles have not been as often as they were when Jesus walked the earth.  It’ s been two thousand years and some of us might begin to wonder… “Jesus, are you the one to come? Or should we expect somebody else?” 

            We get tired of waiting for Jesus to appear…or we get embarrassed that we are called Christians.  Some have answered the question by saying that yes, we have been waiting for somebody else. Various names have been put into contention: Mohammed, Joseph Smith, Mary Eddy, and the Bab.  Others have said that we put our eggs in the wrong basket and that we have been failed by God.  Others have said that there is nothing special about Jesus.

            Maybe the problem is with our perception of Jesus.

            I often talk to sailors who say something like this: I have been good and yet God hates me.  He doesn’t take care of me! Whatever that might be…working too much or not getting the duty station they want or not getting promoted.  They get angry at God and they express their hurt and anger.  But if this is how we view God, you are more than likely to be disappointed.  Because these things will happen to us.  Bad things will inevitably happen to us and we will be looking for another God.

            So we can imagine John’s disappointment as he sends these messengers to Jesus.

            When the messengers get to Jesus, He responds simply, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up and the poor have good news preached to them” (Matthew 11:4b-5).  Jesus has this way of not answering the question that actually answers the question and here is no different.  His answer is an affirmation that the evidence speaks for itself.

            Jesus is looking back to the  prophesies of the Old Testament, specifically Isaiah 35.  Here we read,

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame man leap like a deer and the tongue of the mute sing for joy. (Isaiah 35:5).

            This was the time that was supposed to be inaugurated by the coming of the Messiah.  Isaiah had prophesied a time when the curse would be overturned and the kingdom of God would be established.  Jesus is saying that not only is he the one to bring this about, but that it is in fact happening as!   This is the significance of the coming of Jesus, and it is one that the Church needs to recapture.

            The third Sunday in Advent is known as ‘joy’ Sunday.  At about this time during the holiday season, most of us have probably lost our joy.  Stress has overtaken us as we have struggled with crowds to find Christmas presents.  We have endured office Christmas parties and we have watched enough holiday movies to drive us crazy.  Where is the joy? We may ask.

            And we are probably not alone in asking this.  Thousands of people around the world are asking along with us: where is the joy? Where is the joy that promised at Jesus’ coming? Where is the healing that was supposed to come along? Where is the blind that can see? Where is the deaf that can now hear? Where is the restoration of relationships, the politics that are not corrupt? Where is the answer to life’s problem?

            Let’s be honest, the world has expected more from the church and from the gospel.  The Church has often spoke about the greatness of Christ, but this has fallen on the deaf ears of the world. 

            I remember when I was younger…well in high school…and meeting a high school exchange student from Japan.  She was Buddhist and could not understand the Christian faith. She had a problem with the way we celebrated Christmas because we all talked about the ‘happiness’ and ‘joy’ of the season, but all she saw was sorrow and depression.  She could see nothing true about what we sung about or what we said was the holiday season. 

            And we have to say that this is true.  There are so many people stuck in the prison of their poverty, their depression, their addiction during this time of the year that they are truly asking, “are you the one we expected or should we look for someone else?”  Should we look for another answer, should we look for another Messiah?

            But the joyous message of the Church has always been: NO! Jesus is the Messiah! Jesus is the one who sets all things New! Jesus is the one who truly reveals God’s design for us!

            But what about the deaf? The Blind? The poor? What about those who are stuck in prison? What about those for whom the gospel was promised and yet there seems to be no delivery? Is there any true GOOD News for them?

            It may be hard for us, in our age of twenty four hour news cycles and addictions to anti-depressants, to believe that there is any good happening in the world.  But there is!

            It is found in the work of people like Shane Claiborne who has revitalized entire neighborhoods in Philadelphia by rehabbing old abandoned buildings and giving them to the poor. 

            It is found in the ministry of men like Oscar Romero who identified with the poor and oppressed in El Salvador to the point of giving his own life. 

            It is found in the work of institutions like the International Justice Mission that tries to liberate people trapped in the prison of slavery.  It is found in the work of local churches that work for reconciliation, salvation and peace.  Martin Luther King, Jr called this work the creation of the Beloved Community.

            There is good…GREAT news for them! God is at work in the world, utilizing the church to shed his glory and his kingdom! We are there to offer life to those who are outcast, good news to the poor and hope to the infirm. 

            Advent invites us to wait for God, but it also invites us to see God at work and to delight in the work of the Lord.  We are not to expect anybody else, because the one who has come is the one whom we have waited for and Christ is the one to establish this kingdom.  In this, we hope, in him, we rejoice. 

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[1] Letters and Papers from Prison

The Death of a Good Man

“Why do you call me good? No one is good, except God”—Jesus

When I was a kid….heck…even when I had grown up…I knew what I wanted to be.  I wanted to be good.  I wanted to be a good kid…a good man…a good person.  I wanted to be that person that when they spoke about me, they would say, “Bob was a good man…”  For the longest time, to be recognized as good was the only thing I wanted.  I have realized that this is a dream that will never be realized.

What does it mean to be good? There are so many ways to answer this question.  We can be good at our jobs, as in having competent skills.  We can be good, meaning we have an inner morality that helps us excel at things.

When I was a child, I would think about my heroes and want to be like them.  I was a child of the 80s, so we had Luke Skywalker and Michael Knight as some of our heroes, but there were also a number of good people that I knew.  My scout master was a good man and teacher was a good guy.  There was something that set them apart from other people that they just exuded ‘goodness.’ There wasn’t anything in particular you could quantify, it just was.  And I knew that I wanted to be good like them.

The problem is…it never worked out the way that I wanted it to.  Maybe I didn’t try hard enough…maybe I didn’t want it enough…or maybe….I’m just not good.

It has seemed that life has put me in roles where I am forced to choose.  The question is not whether or not I will hurt somebody…the question always seems to come down to who I will.  I never feel like I can adequately please all the people all the time and when the great choices have to be made, I always feel like I am on the wrong side of them.

When I was a kid, I read Les Miserables.  It took me a long time to get through it.  I remember being puzzled over Jean Valjean’s quest to be good and the trouble it got him in.  He tried to take care of his nephew and wound up in jail.  Then he tried to take care of Fantine and it cost him his life, essentially.  He spends his entire life trying to do the right thing only to be stopped time and again by being forced to choose between impossible situations. Although he is clearly redeemed in the book, I found myself struggling along with him.

One of the reasons I think I am attracted to the writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer was because he struggled exactly with this issue.  Was Bonhoeffer a martyr? Perhaps not in the clearest sense of the word, but he was a man who struggled to be good.  Clearly in prison he struggled with the question, “Who am I?”  In his poem, Bonhoeffer struggles with what other people say he is and the struggle he knew that was going on underneath.  He did not want to be labeled as a good man because he knew himself to be otherwise. 

Bonhoeffer also struggled with the decisions he knew he had to make.  Should he participate in the plot to kill Hitler? Does this make him a murderer?  Does it contradict the values and the ethics that he had clearly taught?  Bonhoeffer was a strict adherent to nonviolence and pacifism.  But he is willing to compromise this to end the war by killing a man.  It might be the right thing to do, he argues, but it does not make him a good man.

            However, I do not struggle with anything so powerful as this.  Nor do I think of my life in terms of such grand schemes.  I am simply a man, struggling to understand what it means to serve my God and my family and my country at the same time.  Maybe somewhere there might be clarity but it always seems that no matter what, I am disappointing someone…or something. 

            I find it interesting that Jesus poses this question.  The man who asks it was simply trying to address Jesus in a polite way.  “Good teacher…”  Jesus immediately responds pounces on this and points out something that we might not even have thought about.

            “Why do you call me good? Only God is good.”  Now theological positions aside (I believe that Jesus is fully God and fully man), this is an interesting statement. 

            First... Jesus asks, ‘why do you…’ while not wanting to get into the weeds…is Jesus asking this because he knows the man has a grasp of what it means to be good? Or is He pointing out that the man is not good and it is hypocritical for the lawyer to call Jesus ‘good.’  I tend to think that Jesus is pointing out the man’s ungoodness and suggesting that this words may not mean much coming from him. 

            Perhaps we should evaluate this in our lives.  Who call us good? Who do we allow to confer the title of ‘good’ on us?  Who do we give the moral authority to say whether we are good or not?  If the answer is a bunch of people that are not good…well then maybe we ought to think about that.  Maybe, their definition of ‘good’ is flawed and perhaps they don’t see all of us.

            Second, Jesus reminds the man that only God is good.  What a powerful statement to say.  We have here a very dismal view of human achievement and we can almost see psychologists and psychiatrists having a field day with Jesus here.  We are, after all, the society that keeps asking, ‘why do bad things happen to good people.’  But here Jesus explicitly says that only God is ‘good’.  To put it in very distinctive talk, there is only person that knows what good is, and that is God.  Our definition of GOOD then has to reflect this, that only God, then, has the right to call us good. 

            When Bonhoeffer ended his poem and his struggle, he ended up exactly where I am.  He wrote:

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!

God has answered the question and He does not call us good.  He call us, His. 

            So I can stop trying to be good…I was never really good at it anyway.  In fact, I know that I will never be the type of man that I wanted to be when I was younger.  I know that I am deeply flawed, horribly contradictory and all together, ungood.  But what matters is that God knows me and claims me.  I, like Bonhoeffer cast up our lives to God and trust that He knows what we are…good or not.

A Spoke in the Wheel: the Legacy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Today would have been Dietrich Bonhoeffer's birthday.  While we can be assured that he would have long slipped the mortal coil of this existence, he was taken much too early, having been killed at the hands of the Nazis in Tegel prison. Bonhoeffer was only 39 when he died and yet remarkably has had a greater impact on many who have lived well past their prime.

At the end of his life, and in the face of his own mortality, Bonhoeffer questioned his existence in a poem entitled, "Who am I?" He writes:

"Who am I? They often tell me

I stepped from my cell's confinement 

Calmly, cheerfully, firmly

Like a squire from his country house

Who am I? They often tell me

I used to speak to my warders
Freely, friendly, and clearly
as though it were mine to command
Who am I? They also tell me
I bore the days of misfortune
Equably, smilingly, proudly
Like one accustomed to win 

At the end of this poem (listen to the whole text), Bonhoeffer wonders if he lives up to the expectations others have placed on him.  "Am I really then all that which other men tell of? Or am I only what I know myself to be?"  In the end, he sums up his feelings perfectly:

                          "Whoever I am, thou knowest God, I am thine!" 

That, in a sentence, describes Dietrich Bonhoeffer's lifelong desire. Whatever he did, he wanted to belong completely to his Lord Jesus Christ.  

In his life, he sought complete obedience to the will of God as he knew it.  In his death, he would become the inspiration for Christians around the world to engage with the world with renewed vigor and passion. 

Bonhoeffer lived in a unique period of history in which the world seems to have gone insane.  Dictators had taken up residence in Germany, Italy, Spain, and the Soviet Union.  People were being rounded up and put in camps because of their religion, race, and/or sexual orientation.  Millions were sacrificed to the god of atheism and a majority of people called it progress.  In reality, human beings were simultaneously deifying themselves, and throwing their humanity aside.   Sadly the Christian Church went along with this, and some in the church promoted it. 

Church decorated in Nazi flags

It is easy to be timid and to not stand up for what is right.  It is easy to say nothing and hope that you will be ignored.  It is easy to hold on to what we have and not risk losing it.  Too many people in Germany took the easy route.  The Nazis came and placed more and more demands on the church and took more and more liberty away from it.  The Nazis at first allowed the Church to continue on in its mission, but then put restrictions in place on what it could preach and teach.  Finally, the Nazis came in and told the church exactly what they could teach.  Too many people went along and the voice of the Church was silenced.  There is no sadder sight to see than a Christian pulpit draped with a twisted cross. 

Bonhoeffer was one of the first, if not the first, to stand opposed to what the Nazis were attempting in Germany.  In 1933, he spoke on "The Church and Jewish Question," in which he stated that the Church had a moral imperative to assist the Jewish people. 

[T]here are three possible ways in which the church can act toward the state: the first place, as has been said, it can ask the state whether its actions are legitimate and accordance with its character as state; i.e., it can throw the state back on its responsibility. Second, it can aid the victims of any ordering of society, even if they do not belong to Christian community — "Do good to all people." In both these courses of action, the church serves the free state in its free way, and at times when laws are changed the church may in no way withdraw itself from these two tasks. The third possibility is not just to bandage the victims under the wheel, but to jam a spoke in the wheel itself.

Bonhoeffer later became involved in movements to relocate Jews from Germany.  Ultimately he became involved in the failed Von Stauffenberg plot to kill Hitler.  The SS caught up with Bonhoeffer's secret life and sent him to prison, where he was executed on April 9, 1945.

For such a young man, Bonhoeffer accomplished a great deal.  His writings have paved the way for modern Christian theology, particularly in the areas of ecclesiology, ethics, and discipleship. His books Life Together and Discipleship are among the classics of Christian spirituality. Ethics and his Letters and Papers from Prison have been read by millions around the world and have been translated into a variety of languages.  Bonhoeffer continues to influence theologians today from almost every perspective, including Jurgen Moltmann and Doug Platt.

What is it about this young man that draws so much attention?

Bonhoeffer provides us with an example of what it truly means to follow Christ today.  His legacy is that he pushed...and continues to push the Church out of the cloister and into the public realms. The Church cannot separate itself from the world, but rather must embrace the world as Christ embraced the world and sought to transform it.

Bonhoeffer's credo was that the "church is only the church as it exists for others."  He took this from the very foundation of Christ's mission in the world.  Christ came for the other, the ones that were apart from Him, the ones that hated Him, the ones that sought to put Him to death.  The same is true for the Church.  We exist, not for ourselves and not for our own sake, but for those who are outside the church, for those who hate the Church, for those who would put the Church to death.  It is only as we begin to recognize this fact that we can truly be engaged in any mission worthy of the name Christian.

In order to do this, we must be wiling to follow Christ, wherever Christ would have us go.  These places are often not very comfortable, we must remember, as Bonhoeffer teaches us, "discipleship is not an offer man makes to God." Rather, Christ commands us to follow and the word comes to us.Christianity is about discipleship.  As he writes, "Christianity without discipleship is Christianity without Christ." The Christian life becomes Christo-centric in every aspect of living.

The legacy of Bonhoeffer must be lifted up once again.  The Church must follow Christ and must follow boldly in the face of a society and culture filled with violence and death.  In our world, the Christian message has been marginalized because the Church has been too timid to dare to follow the commands of Christ.

Where is the Christian voice...the voice of Christ as it were...in the public sphere of life? Where is the body of Christ in action?  But not all is lost and we clearly see signs of life.

We see signs of Bonhoeffer's legacy all over the place and we see the work of Christ being accomplished.  It was evident in Martin Luther King, Jr.'s call for a new vision of society beyond race divisions.  It has been active in the work of the International Justice Mission's fight against human trafficking.  It is seen plainly in the work of Shane Claiborne and the Simple Way ministry.

Just like Bonhoeffer, we live in unique times.  The world seems to have gone mad and humans have at the same time deified themselves and cast humanity aside. Just as Bonhoeffer sat in that cell and wondered "who am I?" so we too can ask ourselves the same question.  "Who are we?" "Who am I?" Will I hear the voice of Christ, or will I shrink in fear? Will I live for the other or seek security for myself?  or we will say, with Bonhoeffer:

            "Whoever I am, thou knowest O God, I am thine!"