Heart of the World - Chapter 2

The Coming of the Light
In chapter 2 of Heart of the World, Von Balthasar discusses “The Coming of the Light.” When the Word of God appears, he is the expression of love. When God comes to Noah, he comes in judgment, destroying the wicked. The world continues in its darkness and continues to hide from the light. But this time, as God draws near, He does not destroy but restores. “When God thunders, the cloud of wrath pours out a rustling of love” (38).

Von Balthasar introduces an idea that is worth further consideration and application, he suggests that the natural movement of all things is upward. He says,

What comes from below naturally strives for the heights. Its impulse presses on to the light; its impetus a seeking of power. Every finite spirit wants to assert itself and luxuriantly unfurl its leafy crown in the sun of existence. Whatever is poor wants to be rich—rich in power, in warmth, through wisdom and sympathy. This is the law of the world. For all things strive to pass from enveloped seed to fully developed life. The possible impatiently presses on toward form. The obscure must move towards the light through rubble and earth. (38)

In this movement, things collide. Part of the fall is the absence of harmony is the development of persons and things. We often try to occupy the same space at the same time: thus giving way to motivations and actions that are rooted in violence toward others. He continues,

And in this general onrush, creatures collide and place limits on each other, and these limits are movable in the play and strife over existence, and the borders between creatures are called customer, convention, family and state. (38)

Von Balthasar suggests that the movement beyond self is a good thing, a sign of God’s essential goodness, but the absence of harmony in creation turns this proper drive into the seeds for violence and corruption in human relations.
Because God is essentially complete, he does not move upwards toward completion. He moves downward not by necessity but by choice to reveal his love. Man’s voracious appetite seeks to consume the light of God’s love. Thus Von Balthasar can say, “The light came into the darkness, but the darkness had no eye for the light: it had only jaws” (39). Outside of redemption, even in the revealing of God’s love, man’s corruption subverts the goodness of God, seeking to consume the fountain of love in it ravenous lust. But the encounter with God’s love means death to our urge and a transformation into God’s love.

Man wants to soar up, but the Word wants to descend. Thus the two will meet half-way, in the middle, in the place of the Mediator. But they will cross like swords cross; their wills opposed to one another. For God and man are related in a manner far different from man and woman: and in no way do they complement one another. And we may not say that, to show his fullness, God needs the void, as man needs fullness to nourish his void. (40)

Von Balthasar proper clarification of this encounter maintains the distinction between Creator and created. This is not pantheism. This is the God who is complete in Himself, freely loving, freely embracing, freely transforming his creation. Love comes down to interrupt our ascent and turn us around. I think it is here that Von Balthasar makes an interesting distinction about our Trinitarian faith. Most religions are moving upward: even if they deny a creator per se they are moving beyond matter to immaterial (even atheism could be said to move beyond the particular to the universal). But the Incarnation embraces the particular. Listen again,

…instead of going past God’s Word in its descent and pursuing the rash ascent to the Father, we are now to turn around and, along with the Word, go back down the steps we have climbed, find God on the road to the world, on no road other than that by which the Son journeys on towards the Father. For only love redeems. There are not two sorts of love. There is not, alongside God’s love, another, human love. Rather, when God so determines and he proclaims his Word, love then descends, love then flows out into the void, and God has set up his claim and his emblem over every love. (40-41)

The problem is that even though human strives upward, they are closed to the true light. They turn from the light because they do not want their evil deeds to be seen by the light. “He beamed into the gloom, but the darkness turned away” (41). In a masterful metaphor, Von Balthasar describes the sin-filled world:

Closed and well-armored was the world against God from all sides, and it had no eyes to look out since all of its glances were turned inwards on itself. But its interior resembled a hall of mirrors in which the finite appeared refracted as far as the eye could see, multiplying itself infinitely and thus playing the self-sufficient god. Only the world’s gullet gaped outwards, ready to swallow down whoever dared approach. (42)

This is a war for God’s beloved creation. Sin has so corrupted the interior of the world that it is trapped in an abyss of self consumed lust. Its only hope is to be redeemed from the inside out: God will enter into the heart of His creation, exposing His love filled heart to all the powers of evil for only love can overcome this damnation. Here is an extended quote that captures the stunning beauty of God’s love revealed in Jesus Christ:

And now God’s Word saw that his descent could entail nothing but his own death and ruination—that his light must sink down into the gloom—he accepted the battle and the declaration of war. And he devised the unfathomable ruse: he would plunge, like Jonas into the monster’s belly and thus penetrate death’s innermost lair; he would experience the farthest dungeon of sin’s mania and drink the cup down to the dregs; he would offer his brow to man’s incalculable craze for power and violence; in his own futile mission, he would demonstrate the futility of the wolrd; in his impotent obedience to the Father, he would visibly show the impotence of revolt; through his own weakness unto death he would bring to light the deathly weakness of such a despairing resistance to God; he would let the world do its will and thereby accomplish the will of the Father; he would grant the world its will, thereby breaking the world’s will; he would allow his own vessel to be shattered, thereby pouring himself out; by pouring out one single drop of the divine Heart’s blood he would sweeten the immense and bitter ocean. This was intended to be the most incomprehensible of exchanges: from the most extreme opposition would come the highest union, and the might of his supreme victory was to prove itself in his utter disgrace and defeat. For his weakness would already be the victory of his love for the Father, and as a deed of his supreme strength, this weakness would far surpass and sustain in itself the world’s pitiful feebleness. He alone would henceforth be the measure and thus also the meaning of all impotence. He wanted to sink to low that in the future all falling would be a falling into him, and every streamlet of bitterness and despair would henceforth run down into his lowermost abyss.
No fighter is more divine than the one who can achieve victory through defeat. In the instant when he receives the deadly wound, his opponent falls to the ground, himself struck a final blow. For he strikes love and is thus himself struck by love. And by letting itself be struck, love proves what had to be proven: that it is indeed love. Once struck, the hate-filled opponent recognizes his boundaries and understands: behave as he pleases, nevertheless he is bounded on every side by a love that is great than he. Everything he may fling at love—insults, indifference, contempt, scornful derision, murderous silence, demonic slander—all of it can ever but prove love’s superiority; and the black the night, the more radiant does love shine. (43-44)

Like a Trojan horse, love enters in the form of a human heart and once inside the gates of humankind, Jesus conquers the kingdoms of this world, revealing the kingdom of the heavens through obedient love. His heart of love overcomes the darkness and the darkness cannot comprehend it. He takes the breach of sin and destruction into his own heart. Von Balthasar says,

For it is not ecstasy that redeems, but rather obedience. And it is not freedom that enlarges, but rather our bonds. And so it was that God’s Word came into the world bound by the compulsion of love. As the Father’s Servant and as the true Atlas, he took the world upon his shoulders. Through his own deeds he joined together two hostile wills, and, by binding them, he undid the inextricable knot. (55)

At the center of the world, this Heart brings God’s particularized love and grace to particular persons. It is not simply a universal restoration, it is the restoration of the the particular. “No destiny resembles another, and no grace is impersonal” (56). Just as a heart pumps blood to all its members, the Heart of God circulates love to and through each particular member of his creation.

Radical Trust

Desert winds spread the blinding showers of sand, and bury me in burning blackness. Hot, dry air smothers my lungs as I choke down another moment of stark existence. Stripping away the facades of luxury, harsh landscapes reveal what will stand and what will fall.

The mountains that seemed invincible now topple, crumble and drift into an ocean of chaos. The stable world I thought existed never really did. All that I trusted is consumed in the endless sinking, shifting ground.

In the landscape of the soul, I’ve tasted the sweet death of desert life: again and again. The desert reminds me that man does not life by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. Like a crying baby or a thirsty drunk, I suck the stone for one more drop of living water.

Radical trust in the goodness of God is my only hope. But whose god? Everyone has a god and probably several. Whom or what do I trust? Politicians? As G.K. Chesterton once noted, “It is terrible to contemplate how few politicians are hanged.” Reporters? Everyday the spin changes with the wind—and the ratings. The latest preacher or guru selling tapes, books, new and better techniques, secret principles, or magic oil from their holy land?

Some days it seems as though everyone is selling somebody something. Including myself.

We’re all con-men try to convince ourselves and others that we are better than we are, smarter than we are, and deserve more than we have.

The merciful desert reveals our gods for what they are: hot air.

Into this barren world, love shines. Jesus reveals God—not as a door-to-door salesman pitching one more life changing aid with slick slogans—but rather a community of love. He makes the stunning suggestion that in the heart of the Creator is an unending flow of love. This personal, all-encompassing love embraces this world and all its pain.

Jesus comes to reveal God in our midst and takes our pain and our suffering and our agony onto and into himself. In the anguish of Calvary, he bears the breach of an aching world. In his actions, he reveals the lovingkindness or hesed of God. Again and again and again he embraces the weak, the oppressed, the outsider, the despised, the failure, the faker, the liar, the cheat, the broken.

In the desert, I realize my weakness: I face the hidden failure lurking in the shadows. The desert shines light into that abyss of my heart revealing a desperate darkness. Others might confidently trumpet their own perfected selves, but I cannot deny the dark struggles of a soul sometimes light and sometimes dark, longing for love but prone to hate.

In the desert, I cling to the only thing that is real: the lovingkindness of God. My only hope is the love of a Creator that sustains all things by His word. Radical trust in His mercy, empowers me to let go of the sloganeering, the salesmanship, the need to protect my turf or my reputation, the desire to accumulate, the insatiable drive for more and more pleasure.

Radical trust allows me to simply let go.

In the wind of His love, I let go. I let go of failure and success. I let go of praising and cursing. I let go and rest. And dance. And play.

And embrace.

Heart of the World

As part of my Lenten mediations this year, I’ve been re-reading The Heart of the World by Hans Urs Von Balthasar. Even in translation, the force of his metaphors shapes words into images that pierce with heart with stunning clarity. I might try to jot down a few highlights that are cause for particular celebration.

Von Balthasar opens by focusing upon the thrust of the book, the cross of Christ at the center of all things. He says,

The very form of the cross, extending out into the four winds, always told the ancient Church that the Cross means solidarity: its outstretched arms would gladly embrace the universe. (13)

He quotes Cyril of Jerusalem, “On the Cross God stretched out his hands to encompass the bounds of the universe.” The cross is real power revealed in real weakness, and it reveals the love of God that beats as the heart of all things—anticipating and sustaining all things by his Word alone.

The broken body of Christ becomes the focal point of the people of God. And in Christ we who were not a people become a people. Thus the cross is at the heart of all restored relations: between man and God and between man and man.

In chapter 1, Von Balthasar highlights the despondent condition of humanity: “Prisons of finitude! Like every other being, man is born in many prisons.” In the fall, the cosmic harmony of particularity and universality collapse. All humans wander alone in their grief—longing for and resisting the restored bonds of relation. He says,

How far it is from one being to its closest neighbor! And even if they love each oter and wave to one another from island to island, even if they attempt to exchange solitudes and pretend they have unity, how much more painfully does disappointment then fall upon them when they touch invisible bars—the cold glass pane against which they hurl themselves like captive birds. No one can tear down his own dungeon; no one knows who inhabits the next cell. (19)

We as isolated beings long for communion, but we don’t live in a vacuum. We live in the endlessly moving stream of time. “The rigid ground under is already beginning to tremble and give way” (21). In one sense, all of existence appears in a flux. He says,

Are you grieving? Trust Time: soon you will be laughing. Are you laughing? You cannot hold fast your laughter, for soon you will be weeping. You are blown from mood to mood, from one state to another, from waking to sleeping and from sleeping again to waking. (21)

Time continues to swirl and move and nothing can stop it. “You cannot draw the river onto the dry bank, there to trap its imperative to flow, as if it were a fish” (22). “The wise among men seek to fathom the foundations of existence, but all they can do is to describe one wave of the current” (22). As Von Balthasar continues discussing the ever changing, transforming nature of time, he looks to the fact of our existence in this ocean as a sign of love. And the rhythm of the oceans of time might be likened to the beating of a heart, the heart of this world: the love of God. Beneath the ever changing flux of existence, beneath the seeming chaos of this world, is a love that cannot be denied.

You sense Time and yet have not sensed this heart? You feel the stream of grace which rushes into you, warm and red, and yet have not felt how you are loved? You seek for a proof, and yet you yourself are that proof. You seek to entrap him, the Unknown One, in the mesh of your knowledge, and yet you yourself are entrapped in the inescapable net of his might. You would like to grasp, but you yourself are already grasped. You would like to overpower and you yourself being overpowered. You pretend to be seeking but you have long (and for all time) been found. (29)

As long as we are blind to the hand of God that sustains and supports our every breath, we continue to struggle in the darkness like blind, drunk men. But when God in His grace opens our eyes to the presence of His love, the isolation of space and endless flux of time become the very realms where I rest in the endless flow of His love. I am his servant and He is Lord of all.

James Houston

Last year I downloaded a bunch of lectures from the James Houston website and lately I've been re-listening to these lectures. Well into his 80s, Houston is a seasoned follower of Jesus Christ and offers the gentle wisdom that comes from years of following. A former Oxford Don, he helped start Regent College in the early 70s. He talks primarily on the spiritual life and while living in the light of the Reformers, he draws from the whole rich history of spiritual devotion. I think it would be worth your while to visit his site, read his writings and listen to his lectures.

New Media and Values

Yesterday after church, a few of us went to our usual Sunday lunch spot: El Sazon. Michelle brought a friend, "Kirby" to meet us, and we immediately dove into a lengthy discussion on Wendell Berry, technology, and the challenge of living as persons created in the image of God.

This morning, I ran across an interesting essay that connects with this challenge of technology vs. persons about the New Media and the implications for values choices. Some of you might find it worth spend a few minutes reading. Media Determinism in Hyperspace. Note: the links to essay sections are at bottom of page.

Update: The author provides an interesting highlight of some the thinkers who have contributed to the conversation about the the impact and potential impact of technology in the human situation. Does technology makes us more or less human? This is mostly a quick overview but wortwhile for catching some of the highilghts of this ongiong discussion.

As I read, I was thinking about how Dumitru Staniloae interprets the Fathers to teach that God creates time and space as a realm when humans can enter into relationship with him and with one another. Sin thwarts this natural order and in turn time and space are no longer transparent to love but become opaque and actually block the light of love.

Update: That link for Staniloae led to other links that were dead or not in English. This link provides a little more background on the theoligan and his works. Staniloae

Dark vs. Light

Yesterday's lectionary reading focused on Jesus healing the blind man. At the end of the story, Jesus says," For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind." The healing of the blind man becomes a way for him to speak of sight and blindness in a whole different way. Speaking to those who view themselves as God's elect, Jesus action and statement reinforces a constant theme: "Your hope and your confidence must be in God alone. Election, following Torah, the temple, all your religious observances, all the promises--these are all rooted in God's goodness. So don't misplace your trust." His stories and actions and words continually remind the listener that they must look beyond all these externals to the Father and trust in the Father for their redemption. By failing to do so, they reveal themselves as blind, as cursed by God.

Thus some people are blind and in darkness, whereas others can see and are in the light. There's a contrast apparent all through the gospel, in fact all the Scripture. People in darkness and people in light. In John 3, Jesus calls this judgment, "the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil."

If you follow this line of thought throughout the bible, you'll find many contrasts between people who are in the darkness and people who are in the light. Just reflecting on the metaphor itself, we see the obvious: people in the darkness cannot see, people in the light can see. As the Proverbs say:

18But the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn,
which shines brighter and brighter until full day.
19The way of the wicked is like deep darkness;
they do not know over what they stumble.

It might be beneficial in our spiritual study, to take time and list out contrasts throughout the text of those in darkness vs. those in light. One stumbles, the other walks along a brighter and bright path. Romans contrasts Adam as the father of those in darkness vs. Jesus as the Father of those in the light. Like the fateful act in the garden, those in the darkness take what is not given; those in the light receive all things as gifts from God. Darkness is characterized by striving; light is resting. Those in the dark look inward for their identity; those in the light look upward for their identity. Paul's discussion of the works of the flesh vs. the fruit of the Spirit might be seen as a continuation of this dark vs. light theme.

19Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, 20idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, 21envy,[d] drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. 22But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. (Gal 5:19-23)

The other New Testament reading from Sunday was from Paul's letter to the Ephesians. At one point he says, "For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light..." (Ephesians 5:8). Paul presents this contrast in a way that helps us to create a framework for personal reflection. He says you were in darkness but now you are in the light. We have moved from darkness to light. This didn't happen by chance, but is a gift from God. As Paul writes in Colossians, "He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins" (Col 1:13-14).

Just as Jesus heals the blind man, God is the one delivers us from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. So Paul suggests that our position is in the light. Our trust in Jesus is a sign that God has opened our blind eyes. He has freed us from darkness and brought us into the light of His son. After Paul writes that "now you are light in the Lord," he says "Walk as children of light." Thus Paul says in effect, "you're in the light, so walk in the light." He first indicates our position: light. Then he follows with a command: walk in the light.

In other words, be who you are. We are not striving to become children of the Light. We are not striving to produce spiritual fruit. By the grace of Jesus Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit in accordance with the will of the Father, we are children of the light, children of the Spirit. Thus the fruit of the Spirit is our natural expression. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control are all naturally part of who we are in Christ. Thus Paul is exhorting us to live as what we are.

When we notice the absence of such fruits or the presence of the "works of the flesh," we look to the author and finisher of our faith, Jesus Christ and ask for his mercy and grace. He is working in us to will and to do for His good pleasure. He shows us who we are in the light, then we long to walk and live in the light, and he works it out in us.

Our life becomes a journey of trust. We trust that the same God who opened our blind eyes, and has delivered us from the kingdom of darkness, will ultimately present us as blameless. So we move toward who we are. I have been made perfect in love, so in trusting obedience I move toward love. I have been given fullness of joy, so in trusting obedience I move toward joy. I am the righteousness of God in Christ, so in trusting obedience I move toward righteousness. All movement is a movement of trusting obedience that God has completed this work in me and will eventually fully reveal it through me.

These texts are perfect reminders of our Lenten journey to become who we are. Blessings!

St. David's Day

March 1, 2005

Happy St. David’s Day! St. David is the patron Saint of Wales much like Patrick is to Ireland. Many churches throughout Wales are dedicated to him and he is remembered for planting monasteries. It appears that Celtic Christians often spread the gospel by planting monasteries, small communities of faith. Like leaven, the members of these communities sought to live the reality of the kingdom in the midst of the world. Some writers have suggested that they might be known as “outposts of heaven.”

One challenge for any ongoing community is to keep the vision alive and not fall into patterns that lead to decaying faith and relationships. Thus these communities often returned afresh to their roots of faith to rediscover who and what they were called to be. Part of St. David’s mission may have been to help foster spiritual renewal in these communities.

His life’s final message played an important role in communicating and forming Welsh spirituality. He said, “Lords, brothers and sisters, be joyful and keep your faith and your belief, and do the little things that you have heard and seen from me.” The call to an honest, joyful and simple working out of faith in the “little things” still resonates today.

St. David’s message may help us in our travel through the Lenten wilderness. In one sense, Lent is about returning to our roots—reconverting in a sense. So many outside the Christian faith fail to see the true reality of the “good news” because we often get so distracted by the battles or trends of the moment.

Let us return afresh to the good news that Jesus Christ is Lord, meaning that in the mystery of His great love and providence, God has entered human history. He has identified with human suffering by taking the pain and brokenness and sin of an anguished world into himself and thus restoring all things.

While evil may still seem strong and threatening upon our planet, it cannot quench hope. The joy and peace of the gospel will prevail. Not through human strength, not through some church planner’s agenda but through the goodness of our God. Let us embrace this hope and become people who live not by the strength of human power or our ingenuity always striving to get ahead, but rather people of faith who live by radical trust in the love revealed in our sweet Lord Jesus Christ.

Here is a wonderful poem in honor of St David by the great Welsh poet, Gwenallt. Early in life Gwenallt sought to bring social change as an atheist Marxist, but the emptiness of this worldview eventually became apparent and he returned to the faith of his fathers, continuing to work for live for the reality of the kingdom.

St. David (Dewi Sant)

There is no border between two worlds in the Church;
The Church militant on earth is the same
As the victorious Church in Heaven.
And the saints will be in the two-one Church.
They will come to worship with us, a little congregation,
The saints, our oldest ancestors,
Who built Wales on the foundation of
The Cradle, the Cross, and the Empty Grave;
And they will go out as before to wander through
Their old familiar places
And bring the Gospel to Wales.
I saw David strolling from county to county like
God’s gypsy
With the Gospel and the Altar in his caravan;
And coming to us to the Colleges and schools
To show the purpose of learning.
He went down to the bottom of the pit with the miners
And threw the light of his wise lamp on the coal-face;
On the platform of the steel works he put on the
goggles and the little blue shirt
And showed the Christian being purified like the
metal in the furnace;
And led the proletariat to his unrespectable Church.
He carried the Church everywhere
As a body, which was life and brain and will
That did little and great things.
He brought the Church to our homes,
Put the Holy Vessels on the kitchen table,
And got bread from the pantry and bad wine from the cellar,
And stood behind the table like a tramp
Lest he should hide the wonder of the Sacrifice from us.
And after Communion we chatter by the fireside,
And he spoke to us about God’s natural order,
The person, the family, the nation and the society of nations,
And the Cross keeping us from turning one of them into a god.
He said that God shaped our nation
For His Own purpose,
And her death would impair that Order.
Anger furrowed in his forehead
As he lashed us for licking the arse of the English Leviathan,
And letting ourselves, in his Christian country,
Be turned into Pavlov’s dogs.
We asked him for his forgiveness, his strength, and his ardour
And, before he left us, told him
To give the Lord Jesus Christ our poor congratulations,
And ask Him if we could come to Him
To praise Him forever in Heaven,
When that longed for moment comes
And we have to say “Good night” to the world.
(1951)

Proclaiming the Good News

I met new brother in the Lord today. A delightful passionate Scotsman living and ministering in Australia. His blog reveals an intense devotion that should stir your soul, so I encourage you to stop by and listen afresh to power of the Good News.

Dick Staub

Dick Staub writes about faith and culture and usually has some interesting perspectives. On his latest update, he references Hedgehog Review. The articles provide a thoughtful analysis of various cultural challenges.

Robert Bellah and the Unitarian Universalists

When I was in graduate school, Robert Bellah's Habits of the Heart profoundly affected my understanding of church in America. Bellah and his team of researchers suggestion that individualism is at the heart of American worship. And unfortanately, this individualism precedes community and often overwhelms any movement toward community.
I just finished reading a fascinating talk he delivered to the Unitarian Universalists in 1998: Unitarian Universalism in Societal Perspective. He argues that social dissent is at the heart of American religion, making Baptists and Unitarian Universalists both seperate strains in the grand untradition of dissent. His talk is challenging and critizuing the UU for tendencies to devalue notiions that provide a framework for developing true community. I think all churches could benefit from reading his lecture. Along the way, he references Mark Lilla who makes the case that the sixties social sexual revolution and the eighties economic boon are both sides of the same coin.
He says:

The revolution of the sixties did not come from nowhere. I would argue that it was another stage in the unfolding of what I have already described as our deepest common value, respect for the individual conscience, the individual person, a respect that is rooted in our dominant religious tradition of dissenting Protestantism

And again:

I called to mind the dissenting tradition. What was so important about the Baptists, and other sectarians such as the Quakers, was the absolute centrality of religious freedom, of the sacredness of individual conscience in matters of religious belief. We generally think of religious freedom as one of many kinds of freedom, many kinds of human rights, first voiced in the European Enlightenment, and echoing around the world ever since. But Georg Jellinek, Max Weber’s friend, and, on these matters, his teacher, published a book in 1895 called Die Erklärung der Menschen- und Bürgerrechte, translated into English in 1901 as The Declaration of the Rights of Man and of Citizens, which argued that the ultimate source of all modern notions of human rights is to be found in the radical sects of the Protestant Reformation, particularly the Quakers and Baptists. Of this development Weber writes, “Thus the consistent sect gives rise to an inalienable personal right of the governed as against any power, whether political, hierocratic or patriarchal. Such freedom of conscience may be the oldest Right of Man—as Jellinek has argued convincingly, at any rate it is the most basic Right of Man because it comprises all ethically conditioned action and guarantees freedom from compulsion, especially from the power of the state. In this sense the concept was as unknown to antiquity and the Middle Ages as it was to Rousseau. . . ” Weber then goes on to say that the other Rights of Man were later joined to this basic right, “especially the right to pursue one’s own economic interests, which includes the inviolability of individual property, the freedom of contract, and vocational choice.” (1978:1209) So, almost from the beginning the sacredness of conscience, of the individual person was linked to “the right to pursue one’s own economic interests.” Remember that Weber locates the famous “Protestant ethic” in the intersection of Calvinism and sectarianism out of which our own dissenting tradition comes. Freedom of conscience and freedom of enterprise are more closely, even genealogically, linked than many of us would like to believe. As I hope to show, they are both expressions of an underlying ontological individualism.

For those willing to wrestle with Bellah's ideas, I think he raises many valid challenges that face the contemporary church and society. We must seriously consider how our actions (praxis) is derived from ideas or dotrines (doxis) that may lead to unrestrained individualism--even when we are proclaiming the value of community. For Bellah, he finds hope of connecting with the sacraments, the communion of the saints and in a social ontology rooted in Trinitarian theology.

Chronic Illness

Chronic illness can crush the human spirit and yet in the mystery of grace it can also make it flower. Some people who have endured unbearable anguish still blossom in radiant beauty. If you want to listen to the struggles of those facing chronic hep C or interact with them or even connect them with others facing chronic illness, here are two blogs worth visiting: Buzz Trexler and Debbie .

Homeward Bound

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
From The Stolen Child by WB Yeats

The world is weary of weeping and war: nation against nation and even brother against brother. Our news baptizes us in the causalities of multiple wars in multiple lands. From the violent birth of a nation in Iraq to the ongoing genocide of a people in Dafur: death and destruction are the only life many people know. And in some strange irony, we Americans complete the cycle by entertaining ourselves through an endless parade of murder mysteries.

Yeats seems to be right, “the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.” Some would escape to fairylands and beyond, hoping to enjoy some tiny bit of happiness in this evil infested planet.

Pain, suffering, war and death characterize life for many people in this world. We may protest wars and we may voice our opposition to tyrant leaders (either at home or abroad) but that does not change the reality for millions of mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, sons and daughters, sisters and brothers who will lay down tonight in terror and grief over the unending real pain in this world.

How can we ever really face the magnitude of suffering and evil in this world? Some may choose to ignore it for as long as possible, living a life of hedonistic delight as the world burns around them. Others may deny any ultimate significance to the material world, suggesting it is all an illusion or all subject to destruction anyway. One popular approach is to suggest that everything is some part of divine life: of course, this carries with it the disturbing notion that evil and good are equally divine.

Is it possible things are not the way they are supposed to be? Is it possible the longing we have in our hearts for goodness and truth and beauty are intuitive longings for a world that might have been or might still be?

Today is the beginning of the second great cycle in the Christian year known as Lent-Easter-Pentecost. It is a time of honestly facing the evil in our world but it is also about facing the possibility of becoming humans who know the reality of giving and receiving love.

In the Lenten journey, we face the disturbing truth that the problem of evil in this world is a human problem. When we despair over the tyranny of evil in faraway places, we must not ignore the reality of that evil within. Think of the anger we have felt at times to other people in the workplace, on the highway, or in the community. Someone might say, “But my anger is justified. Did you see what they did to me?” Do not all perpetrators of evil feel justified in their actions?

“Of course, some innocents will die, but this is the only way to maintain peace and order.”

“They deserved to die for what they did to me!”

And on and on the excuses for evil continue. During Lent, we honestly face this propensity toward evil within.

The strange and often misunderstood story of Jesus, suggests that God does not ignore evil but takes the pain and power of it onto Himself. Jesus comes to tell Israel that their God has come to dwell among them in a way they never could have imagined. He will become the suffering servant. He will take the pain and hurt and very real anguish of this evil world onto Himself. In so doing, He will make a way for humans to become truly human: truly beings shaped and fully revealed in the beauty of perfect love.

The Lenten journey is about facing the real hope offering in this action and message of Jesus.

I invite you to take this Lenten journey with me: this means facing and confronting our own personal failings and attitudes of anger and violence and unforgiveness. And yet at the same time, it means looking with hope to Jesus whose life makes that stunning proclamation that God has taken the pain and evil in this world including my life onto Himself, freeing me to become a lover. This amazing good news frees me to embrace the suffering persons around me—even if that means I may suffer in the process.

Blessings on your journey.

Adam and Eve

I recently posted a story on Cain and Abel. Working backward, here is a retelling of Adam and Eve. For churches following a Western liturgical calendar, Lent begins next week. This story is helpful for reflection as we will begin completating the reversing of this tragic tale. Note: Scriptures references intertwine this story and they are from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.

The story begins in a garden. This is appropriate because gardens are the place of beginnings.

In the middle of the place of beginnings, is adama literally “ruddy man.” We call him Adam.

And he is facing a dilemma. Who can he trust? Abba or the snake?

Can he rely on Abba’s Word? Can he rest in Abba’s kindness and goodness and love?

Ah the walks. The walks in the cool of the evening. As long as he can remember, Adam has spent his evenings walking alongside Abba, discussing his day and listening to Abba’s stories. Abba loves to tell stories. In fact, Abba’s stories that Adam has learned all that he knows.

Abba taught him about the animals. Abba told him funny animal stories. Abba told him how know and guide and watch the animals. Through Abba’s kindness, Adam named all the animals—rightly proclaiming the essence of who they were created to be.

Abba gave him Eve. It had been so long, and so glorious, and so fulfilling. She was his companion, his friend, his lover. She was his second set of eyes. Adam could not even imagine what life was like before Eve.

He tried and all he could remember were the stories. The stories from before the garden. Before the animals. Before the trees and flowers. Before the land and water. Before. Before. Before.

Adam remembers the stories before anything existed—only love within the Godhead. Abba dwelled in loving communion with the Father and Spirit. This loving, joyful, beautiful communion of persons is known as God. From the superabundance of this love, a decision was made to create someone who could share in the wonder of this unquenchable, unending love: but first a place for the new one.

Today when parents are expecting a newborn, they prepare a place, a nursery. Everything has to be just perfect. Colors of the room. Bed. Music. Story books. And everything a baby will need to grow and develop and become what they are. God creates such a place.

Genesis 1
1:1 Heaven and Earth

First this: God created the Heavens and Earth — all you see, all you don't see. 2 Earth was a soup of nothingness, a bottomless emptiness, an inky blackness. God's Spirit brooded like a bird above the watery abyss.
3 God spoke: "Light!"And light appeared. 4 God saw that light was good and separated light from dark. 5 God named the light Day,he named the dark Night.It was evening, it was morning — Day One.
6 God spoke: "Sky! In the middle of the waters;separate water from water!" 7 God made sky. He separated the water under sky from the water above sky.And there it was: 8 he named sky the Heavens;It was evening, it was morning — Day Two.
9 God spoke: "Separate!Water-beneath-Heaven, gather into one place;Land, appear!"And there it was. 10 God named the land Earth.He named the pooled water Ocean.God saw that it was good.
11 God spoke: "Earth, green up! Grow all varieties of seed-bearing plants,Every sort of fruit-bearing tree."And there it was. 12 Earth produced green seed-bearing plants,all varieties,And fruit-bearing trees of all sorts.God saw that it was good. 13 It was evening, it was morning — Day Three.
14 God spoke: "Lights! Come out!Shine in Heaven's sky!Separate Day from Night.Mark seasons and days and years, 15 Lights in Heaven's sky to give light to Earth."And there it was.
16 God made two big lights, the larger to take charge of Day, The smaller to be in charge of Night;and he made the stars. 17 God placed them in the heavenly sky to light up Earth 18 And oversee Day and Night,to separate light and dark. God saw that it was good. 19 It was evening, it was morning — Day Four.
20 God spoke: "Swarm, Ocean, with fish and all sea life!Birds, fly through the sky over Earth!" 21 God created the huge whales,all the swarm of life in the waters,And every kind and species of flying birds.God saw that it was good. 22 God blessed them: "Prosper! Reproduce! Fill Ocean!Birds, reproduce on Earth!" 23 It was evening, it was morning — Day Five.
24 God spoke: "Earth, generate life! Every sort and kind:cattle and reptiles and wild animals — all kinds." And there it was: 25 wild animals of every kind,Cattle of all kinds, every sort of reptile and bug. God saw that it was good.
26 God spoke: "Let us make human beings in our image, make them reflecting our nature So they can be responsible for the fish in the sea,the birds in the air, the cattle,And, yes, Earth itself,and every animal that moves on the face of Earth." 27 God created human beings;he created them godlike,Reflecting God's nature.He created them male and female. 28 God blessed them: "Prosper! Reproduce! Fill Earth! Take charge!Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the air,for every living thing that moves on the face of Earth."
29 Then God said, "I've given you every sort of seed-bearing plant on Earth And every kind of fruit-bearing tree,given them to you for food. 30 To all animals and all birds,everything that moves and breathes, I give whatever grows out of the ground for food."And there it was.
31 God looked over everything he had made; it was so good, so very good! It was evening, it was morning — Day Six.
(from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)

Adam rests in the expectation of the seventh day, contemplating the endless rest of this loving God. In their nightly talks, Abba spoke often of this loving communion, revealing to Adam his destiny to live and move and rest in the embrace of such love. Oh the stories Abba told. They were more than Adam could ever recount. Yet each story filled Adam with wonder and delight and anticipation. Everything Adam knew, his knew through the gentle guidance of Abba.

Now the question. Can Abba be trusted? The snake says otherwise. Pointing to Adam’s gleaming countenance, the snake reminds Adam of his own glory. He reveals secrets and mysteries Adam did not know. He invites Adam to enjoy a feast like he never tasted, power beyond his wildest imaginations and a court of angels to protect and praise Adam all day long. The snake questioned Abbas reliability. Abbas stories are only stories. Stories meant to control Adam: to keep him from his real destiny, his real throne, his proper place beside Abba.

The more Adam thought about the snakes’ song, the foggier his thoughts became. Abbas stories faded. And Adam grew angry. This deception cannot last one moment longer!

Adam takes what Abba did not give. He eats what Abba forbade. He believes what Abba denied.

Instantly, the skies darkened and shriek entered into the very fiber of creation. All things trembled in pain. All things began to die. Everything goes black and Adam dies. What seems like an eternity passes and Adam opens his eyes, the light is gone. Eve’s glory has departed. She no longer shimmers with the radiant light. Her body looks different. Odd. Almost like an animals’ hide. Adam looks down and realizes he looks like an animal as well.

In his very core, Adam feels something he has never known before--fear. Unbridled terror. And shame. Adam and Eve began running and running and running. In a moment, they’ve destroyed Abba’s glorious creation. In an act of pride, they sought to replace Abba and know realize the grotesque results of their impudence, their selfishness, their rebellion.

As they run in terror, they cry out in shame and bathe the wounded earth in their tears. Everything seems to cry with them. The world it coming undone. In the midst of the chaos, they hear him coming. Abba is here.

Genesis 3:9-19
9 GOD called to the Man: "Where are you?"
10 He said, "I heard you in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked. And I hid."
11 GOD said, "Who told you you were naked? Did you eat from that tree I told you not to eat from?"
12 The Man said, "The Woman you gave me as a companion, she gave me fruit from the tree, and, yes, I ate it."
13 GOD said to the Woman, "What is this that you've done?"
"The serpent seduced me," she said, "and I ate."
14 GOD told the serpent:
"Because you've done this, you're cursed,cursed beyond all cattle and wild animals,Cursed to slink on your belly and eat dirt all your life. 15 I'm declaring war between you and the Woman,between your offspring and hers.He'll wound your head,you'll wound his heel."
16 He told the Woman:
"I'll multiply your pains in childbirth;you'll give birth to your babies in pain.You'll want to please your husband,but he'll lord it over you."
17 He told the Man:
"Because you listened to your wife and ate from the tree That I commanded you not to eat from,'Don't eat from this tree,'The very ground is cursed because of you;getting food from the ground Will be as painful as having babies is for your wife;you'll be working in pain all your life long. 18 The ground will sprout thorns and weeds,you'll get your food the hard way, Planting and tilling and harvesting, 19 sweating in the fields from dawn to dusk,Until you return to that ground yourself, dead and buried;you started out as dirt, you'll end up dirt."
(from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)

In the mystery of his relentless love, Abba offers hope. Evil will be vanquished. The serpent will be crushed. And the very curse that now inhabits Adam and Eve will become the means of drawing them back to him. And God covers these animal bodies: these darkened bodies that no longer shine with the light of a pure soul. He covers them with shed blood and offers life in their death.

Genesis 3:21-4:1

21 GOD made leather clothing for Adam and his wife and dressed them.

22 GOD said, "The Man has become like one of us, capable of knowing everything, ranging from good to evil. What if he now should reach out and take fruit from the Tree-of-Life and eat, and live forever? Never — this cannot happen!"

23 So GOD expelled them from the Garden of Eden and sent them to work the ground, the same dirt out of which they'd been made. 24 He threw them out of the garden and stationed angel-cherubim and a revolving sword of fire east of it, guarding the path to the Tree-of-Life.
(from THE MESSAGE: The Bible in Contemporary Language © 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson. All rights reserved.)

Called Out Community

My friends Milton Stanley and Buzz Trexler have been discussing the nature of the church community, and how our evangelism is more than just hurling invectives at the "lost" outside the community of Christ. Good word brothers! Thanks!

Some writers like Ian Bradley have suggested, we are building outposts of heaven. Our churches gather in good times and bad. We gather in birth and death; in joy and sadness; and sometimes in fear and trembling. We gather to eat, to argue, to pray, to cry, to hope, to yearn, to love. We may do other things but one thing we are compelled to do is gather.

And in gathering we become, as Robert Bellah has reminded us, a "community of memory." But not simply a sentimental common memory like the "good old days." This memory is a real and living Presence. We gather in the living and present memory of our Lord. By His gentle and sometimes fiery grace, the rhythms of our lives harmonize in a symphony of love shining heaven's light into this darkened world.

Augustine puts it differently. He says that we are a community of friends. This community is ever expanding transforming society into a world a friends who gather in the presence of the ever living Savior, Redeemer and Friend, the Lord Jesus Christ.

The inward outward movement of community is sometimes difficult to manage. We may become too inward losing sight of those outside the community, or we may become to outword focusing on the lost and dying world but losing sight of the called out community. This tension between building a loving community and reaching out beyond loving community is a dynamic tension that is always moving.

And as Chesterton points out that is one more beauty of our faith built on a cross of two planes: the horizontal and vertical. These intersecting planes remind us again and again of the wondrous paradoxical tensions of walking and living by faith.

Posting Again

Now that I've finally caught my breath, maybe I can start posting a few tidbits again. I have a variety of thoughts I need to put on paper. Right at the end of the old year and the start of the new, I was running (or driving) all across the country (well at least the Southeast). We went to Charlotte for Reggie White's funeral which was profoundly moving and hopefully I can write about it soon; then I headed down to Louisianna for a few days of NT Wright. Splendid fellow. Great thinker and nice person to boot! Then I came back just in time for a co-hort at the New City Community.

I was a bit drained and didn't feel well but Darrell Johnson warmed me with his grace-filled pastor's heart. Along the way, I've been thumbsucking Maximas the Confessor's On The Cosmic Mystery of Jesus Christ. What a treasure! I think the modern church misses so much when we ignore so many Christian writers simply because they are no longer living. Chesterton reminds us that tradition is teh democracy of the dead. If we really are democratic thinkers, we'll listen to the dead as well as the living.

Finally. I finally discovered Czelaw Milosz. Where have I been? As usual, probably wasting time on the Internet instead of reading grand writers and thinkers. He is a delight. I want to insert of few of his poems in this blog, but here's a little today:

Veni Creator

Come, Holy Spirit,
bending or not bending the grasses,
appearing or not above our heads in a tongue of flame,
at hay harvest or when they plough in the orchards or when snow
covers crippled firs in the Sierra Nevada.
I am only a man: I need visible signs.
I tire easily, building the staircase of abstraction.
Many a time I asked, you know it well, that the statue in church
lift its hand, only once, just once, for me.
But I understand that signs must be human,
therefore call one man, anywhere on earth,
not me--after all I have some decency--
and allow me, when I look at him, to marvel at you.

Berkeley 1961

Cain and Abel

Our church is currently telling the stories of the Old Testament. Today I wrote up a fictionalized account of Cain and Abel. While I tried to remain true to the spirit of the tale, I did fill places with my imagination. If anyone is interested, I thought I'd post something from it:

In the shadows, evil lurks. Watching. Simmering. Waiting for the right moment to pounce.

It started out as a day among days. A light autumn breeze stirred through the orchards and sweet apple scents surrounded the morning travelers. Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel were climbing the mountain for their annual feast of thanksgiving. The late harvest sun shined through the trees and the red seemed more red, the greens seemed more green: everything pulsated with life and possibility.

Atop the mountain they set up camp and each person prepared for their part in the feast. This year was to be special. It was the first year that Cain and Abel would approach Abba as young men. Before they had always watched Adam as he set up an altar of worship. They had listened as Adam retold the story of Creation and the wondrous stories of and from Abba. They grieved with Adam as he told of his own profound rebellion and failure, but rejoiced as he told of Abba’s loving-kindness. Then he would pause in the story and explain that every breath is but a gift from Abba. And though he had nothing of value to offer Abba, he would express his profound gratefulness for Abba’s love in gifts of worship. Cain and Abel would watch in amazement as Adam place the gifts on the altar and fire from heaven consumed them. It was as though Abba had kissed the earth in his love.

But this year Cain and Abel would approach the altar as young men. Instead of approaching through Adam, they would bring their own gifts of thanksgiving.

Cain worked the soil and this year his harvest was particularly grand. The orchards overflowed with apples and pears and peaches and cherries. The ground produced a stunning spread of tomatoes and corn and carrots and onions and more. This exceeding harvest pleased Cain. He had worked the fields day and night, and his efforts had paid off. He harvested more than enough food to meet his obligation for the great feast. Cain chose a sample fruits and vegetables to offer Abba and prepared to display his wares at the great feast.

Abel cared for the flocks. Like a father, he came to love each of the animals like his own children. Many a night, Abel would sit alone on the hilltop making up songs for his flocks. Abel was grateful to Abba for allowing him to care for the animals and when time came for the feast, Abel choose the finest, firstborn from his flock. Abel loved this sheep more than any man has loved his pet. And in some sense by offering this sheep, he could express how much more how loved and was thankful to Abba for his loving-kindness.

When time came for Cain and Abel to approach the altar, Cain led the way. He proudly displayed this fine bounty. “I am thankful that you have given me such ingenuity. For I have worked long and worked late and have produced a most glorious harvest of fruits and vegetables. The selection before you today is just a sample of the fine harvest I’ve produced in the orchards and fields below.” After his speech, Cain sat down and awaited Abel.

But Abel didn’t say much. Abel simply said, “I give the best but it is still not good enough. You are greater than all I can imagine and I am grateful for your love and kindness. Please have mercy and accept this precious lamb as a token of my unending love for you.”

Before Abel could even sit down, fire shot down from heaven and kissed the gift he brought. Abba delighted in such faith and readily expressed his pleasure.

But Cain was puzzled. His fruits and vegetables were more glorious than anything Abel brought but Abba almost seemed to snub him.

From the shadows, a cloud descended on him and he stumbled off the mountain in frustration and anger.

He had been humiliated in front of Abel and Adam and Eve. His fine selection of fruits and vegetables had been virtually ignored. Shamed and alone, dark thoughts began to torture Cain. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Abel was always the favored. Adam and Even had always praised everything Abel did while virtually ignoring his own efforts. Cain was a victim. He had been rejected all his life and this latest rejection was just a very public demonstration of what everyone thought. No one, not even Abba, realized his worth. No one, not even Abba, realized how hard he worked to benefit everyone else.

Deep into the night, Cain stared up into the dark sky and wondered if Abba was really that good after all. Maybe he had duped everyone. Cain was frustrated, confused and angry. In the middle of his torments, a voice. Abba comes to comfort and confront. “Cain, Cain. Why are you angry, and why has your face fallen? The shadow of darkness is waiting to take you. But it doesn’t have you. You can still do right and your joy will return.”

In his shame, Cain cried, “Oh God. Forgive me. You are right. I allowed the darkness to choke me, but when I arise tomorrow things will be different.”

But they weren’t different. When Cain awoke, the conversation with Abba had slipped into the stream of forgotten dreams. A cloud covered his heart and mind. And all he could think about was how he had been wronged.

Stumbling from bed, he went to face the day and instead found Abel. Anger simmered and yet hid. Abel said, “Come with me and let us return to the mountain.” For Abel was deeply concerned for Cain. Yet Cain interpreted this as Abel seeking to embarrass him yet once again. He followed quietly behind as Abel described the events of the previous day.

Suddenly the darkness came out of the shadows. Cain leaped. Abel fell. And the blood cried out. In a terrified stupor, Cain realized what he had done and ran. He ran and ran and ran. He tried to run from himself. But could not escape the dark terror of his deed.

In the shadows the voice called, “Where is your brother Abel?”

“I’m not my brother’s keeper. How should I know?”

“Even now your brother’s blood is crying. Calling out from the ground. You’ve planted curses and you’ll reap curses. Your field of plenty will rot on the vine as blood cries out for vengeance. Wherever you go, the land will recognize and reject you. From now on you’ll wander the earth without a home, without a place.”

Even as the Lord God spoke, Cain was coming undone. “It’s too much. I cannot bear it. I cannot bear it. The angry world knows my name and will consume me.”
“No Cain. Anyone who kills you will be repaid 7 times.” And with that promise Abba marked him for protection and left him to wander the world alone.
Traveling east, Cain stumbled into the waiting darkness. He married. Had a family. Built a city. And his son had sons. And they had sons. And they had sons. From his people came nomads, musicians, and blacksmiths. They were a people marked in blood. One day, his great grandson Lamech, with blood on his hands, proclaimed to his wives:
I killed a man for wounding me, a young man who attacked me. If Cain is avenged seven times, for Lamech it's seventy-seven!
And the seeds of destruction continued to fall on the ground.

Geneva Convention

As we reflect on the Incarnation, it is also helpful to see humans who lived lives that reveal a God's unfailing love. Today I stumbled across an article on the man who started the Red Cross and wrote the first Geneva Convention. Herny Dunant was driven by an intense Christian vision and lived his life caring for the needy. This article is an inspiring read.

The Spirit of Christmas

Every year cartoons and movies retell the same story: the story of a child or an adult who has lost the wonder of Christmas, “the Christmas spirit.” Every year the tale of innocence and experience is retold through the lens of Santa Claus and a heart that needs only believe.

Christmas is the time when we hope, we wish, we dream it might all really be true. Of course, we know better. And yet deep within us there is a longing for that place called the North Pole. The sophisticated refuse to waste their thoughts or time with such pointless dreaming, ah but the child in all of us longs for the dream to come true.

In our Christmas stories, we express the truths our imagination knows to be true, even when our intellect says otherwise. I believe that our stories embody our deepest beliefs: the beliefs that are fundamental to our whole understanding of the world.

Some parents hoping to protect their children give them presents but refuse to give them the stories of Christmas. But maybe stories are more important than an endless supply of boxed toys that will soon be discarded. Long after the specific toys are forgotten, the stories will be remembered. The stories shape us: they shape the boundaries of our imagination; they shape our understanding of the world—both seen and unseen.

And what do our Christmas stories tell us? What we believe really matters. The magic of Christmas is veiled to the unbeliever. For them it is only commerce—buying and exchanging of presents. But for those who believe, we know the Christmas present reminds us that the greatest treasures cannot be purchased: they can only be received as gifts. The believer offers milk and cookies in gratitude.

After we sit in the glow of our twinkling Christmas trees inside, we might notice the glorious glow of our trees outside: and for that matter our grass and our bushes may look a little brighter. The world around is not as dull and dreary as we had come to believe, but is really an explosive symphony of light.

When we see the Santa strolling through the mall, we are reminded of goodness and kindness and unending benevolence just north of all we can see or hear. We are not alone. And who knows how often we entertain angels unaware?

In the swirl of Santas, and snowmen, and songs of sleigh rides, we discover something else—a lean to, a broke down barn, a rustic shelter. Inside this stable lies a baby that bears the hopes of all the ages.

Once again, the manger is an embarrassment to the sophisticated. How could the God of the ages come to earth as a poor child? Yet this tragically beautiful tale captures the imagination: a virgin with child, a cold winter night, no place in the inn, a miracle birth, shepherds and angels and wise men. And in the center of the story: the hope of hopes lying helpless on the hay.

This is the myth of myths, the story of all stories. The story of the God who comes to earth as man—not to betray the world, not to oppress or destroy but to love in weakness; to embrace the downtrodden; love the unlovely; heal the broken heart; preach freedom to the captives; to bear the weight of every pain, every fear, every sin; to overcome evil with goodness; and to overcome death with life forevermore.

We fear the story is too good to be true. Because ultimately we fear good stories cannot be true. We’ve seen too much pain, too much loss, too much needless suffering. We’ve lost our innocence to the dark reality of this cruel world. In the midst of this dark world, a light still shines.

Dare we believe? Dare we become childlike again? Dare we believe that our stories were pointing to something real? Dare we believe in someone who created us for a life beyond all we ever could hope or imagine?

This Christmas we might truly discover the Spirit of Christmas. Or rather, he might waken us to the wonder of a love that we have longed for all our lives.

“O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.”

Anticipation

The countdown has begun. All across the Western world, children are counting the days. Santa will be here soon.

Okay, I realize Santa doesn’t seem too spiritual. In fact, some folks go so far as to say that teaching children about Santa is dangerous. When they find out there is no Santa, they might quit believing in God. Actually, when children cease to be children they will quit believing they need God. Jesus says, "Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 18:3).

Children have the capacity to appreciate the wonder and magic of myth. They may not understand why the snow falls in winter, but they delight in it as a gift from heaven. The whole world is touched with wonder. There are friendly trees and mean trees. Digging a hole in the back yard may take them to China. Fairies play in the backyard—just out of sight. Children see something adults have grown to old and blind to see. G.K. Chesterton says, “It may be that (God) has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father us younger than we.”

Children are still young in spirit. They realize this world is miraculous. The spiritual world in entwined with the physical. Their minds may not understand the subtleties of doctrines and theology but their hearts recognize the reality of spiritual light and spiritual darkness.

When it comes to Christmas, they understand something so close to the human heart that adults seem to overlook it. Christmas Eve is just as spectacular as Christmas Day. Christmas Eve is when the Mystery draws near. Paul Jones says:

“As a child I could understand this, for no Christmas Day could ever match the mystery of anticipation called Christmas Eve. All of the major Christian festivals are woven in and out of Vigils—the prior evening in which one awaits in foretaste. Especially significant are the mystery of Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, and the rapture of Easter Vigil, which begins and ends in the speckled darkness of early morning. It is in anticipation, at the outer edge of yearning, deeply in time, that Mystery births us.” (A Season in the Desert, 72).

We live so close to the Mystery of God that sometimes we overlook it. In seasons like Advent, we remind ourselves of the deep inner childlike, yearning we have to draw near to the Mystery of God. He is above and beyond all we can know; yet we long to draw near Him. We live in Anticipation.

Anticipation

“What was that?”
“Did you hear that?”
“I think, I think
He’s out there.”

Christmas eve. The magic is almost here.
My heart is throbbing, my
mind is racing.
Sleep?
How?

Tonight’s the night. Michelle says that she saw him last year.
“What was that?”

Looking down over the railing, I crane my neck to no avail.
A flickering of colors rains across the hall.

Trembling, I climb onto the top step. My body
aches to keep climbing down the stairs.

But my mind is terrified.
“What if I spoil the magic?”

Endless seconds
crawl before me. And then,

Michelle taps my shoulder and wakes me from a long winter’s sleep. It’s time!

Our world is different. Just hours ago, he was here!
Here in this very house!

adf – 12/19/01

The Meeting

The young imagination can grasp the impossible. So believing in Santa is easy. When I was a child, the world was full of wonder. Everything was magical. Colors, sounds, shapes, and even smells fascinated me. In fact, I think I liked some toys because of the way they smelled. I remember one store smelled like incense (this was the 60s). That smell always made the store seem a bit mysterious. Some people’s home smelled like children were not aloud to play there. I used to play at one friend’s house who was Italian. As his mom cooked, their house smelled like families were important.

The childlike imagination is rich in associations and wonder and faith. Yet as we grow, we often loose that wonder of simple things. Soon we fail to notice the wonder around us as we plan tomorrow’s schedule or review today’s events. Scientifiic laws explain away the fancies of childhood (like why birds fly and we don’t). We see the grass as green due to light and pigmentation. The sun dissappears from view because of the rotation of the earth.

Faith in God can restore the childlike appreciation of the world. Faith doesn’t seek to do away with scientific laws, but rather, it suggests that beneath those laws is a will. The will of a Supreme, loving Creator. So we may explain the details of green, but faith says that ultimately the grass is green because a divine will wanted it green. There is an active will of a loving Creator behind every man-made explanation. God wills the Sun to shine and it does. God willed for you to exist and you do.

When we see the world through this lens, we realize the absolute wonder that we even exist. God desired you to be here this day. And somehow, in the mystery of His great love, He gave us the freedom to gaze in wonder at His creation or to ignore Him altogether.

As you watch the excitement of children this season, may the excitement and wonder of faith come to life within your own heart.

The Meeting

“Oh , look Mom!
Look!
I think it’s him.
Can we stop? Please, please. Can we stop?”

Standing in line,
My wet hands hands are jumbled in anticipation.

This is the “real” one.
At least I’m pretty sure.
Just look at his stomach.
That’s no pillow.
And that beard, it’s real too.
Not some cotton on elastic.

Oh, great.
I’m next.
My heart is pounding.
I’ve never, …

Met the “real” one.

Quick, review my list:
a scrumpled notebook paper with pencil markings.
I hope he can read it.
Let’ see. Cross out number 3 and 7.
Can’t sound too greedy.
Put a star by 1 and 5. These are the most important.

Oh.
It’s my turn!
He’s so big.
Giant hands gently swoop me into his lap.
Look at those boots. Yep, those are real.
Boy, he looks old. I bet he’s over a 1,000 years old.

“Uh, uh thanks.
Yes, I want a, a”

deep breath.

“A train set that lights up and whistles.
Oh, yes. I promise I would be careful.
Oh wait!
Here’s my list.
You can, uh
Bring me, uh
Anything you want.
Thank you Santa.”

Wow! I finally met him.
Boy he sure smelled good.

by alan douglas floyd

12/2000

Wish Lists

One of my favorite memories of Christmas festivities is the making of wish lists. Several department stores sent out a “wish list” toy catalog each year, but none surpassed the Sears catalog. I spent hours pouring over the pictures and descriptions. I bent the corner of pages with potential “wish list” items for future review. Then I would visualize playing with those particular toys. The toys in my dreams were more fun than anything I ever could receive for Christmas.

There is a profound lesson here. In the wish list, the child uses the imagination to cultivate a sense of longing. This longing may start with a specific toy or any specific thing or even a specific person or a specific place. But our imagination presents a perfect or ideal image of the thing we desire—and the actual reality can never meet our expectations. And we experience disappointment.

One year, I saw a little record player recorder that supposedly could cut records. In other words, I could make my own recordings. This delightful toy bordered on the miraculous, and I dreamed of creating my own albums much to the amazement of friends and family all around. This toy topped this list. It was too good to be true. And it probably was, but I’ll never know because I never got this gift.

One thing a child must learn early is that there is no direct correlation between the wish list and the gifts received on Christmas morning. Inevitably, as delight and wonder envelope children everywhere, disappointment still lurks in the background. Nothing can ever really live up to our expectations or imaginations. And though some adults this year, like every year, will scold their children for selfishness, they too suffer from disappointments in other adults, in relationships, in job situations, in family matters and more. Disappointment is a very real and important part of longing.

I believe our idealized longing, is ultimately reaching out for a city not made by hands: a place and time that truly is just out of reach. Some might say that this type of longing is really a longing for the womb: a place where we were connected, completely safe and satisfied. In fact, some suggest that our delight with the sound of rushing waters from oceans to rivers to creeks is because the earliest sounds we knew in the womb were in liquid.

I believe the longing is not necessarily a looking back but a yearning forward. It is the hope, the longing, the yearning for the possibility that one day the happily ever after really will come true. Our best fairy tales end in a place just beyond the reach of real life. Nobody really experiences happily ever after in the here and now. They can’t. No one and nothing can meet our expectations.

We cannot even meet our own expectations. We vow to follow a new diet or a new exercise plan. We vow to be kind, to be more loving, to live selflessly. But we fall and fail. We cannot live up to our own standards, and if think we do, I assure someone else can look into our life and point out how we fail to meet their standards. Everyone falls short. Thus disappointment is inevitable.

The Hebrew prophets experienced disappointments as well. They watched a people, a nation move from reliance on God to political maneuvering and intrigue: and in the process. becoming a captive people. But many of them continue to cultivate a longing for a time when this kingdom of God would be realized in fullness. They describe this kingdom in ways that are still hard for us to imagine. The world is in perfect harmony: natural enemies are at peace. Political foes embrace; weapons of destructions are transformed into tools for nurturing and healing—even the lion lays down with the lamb.

Their lasting and profound vision of world harmony continues to reverberate throughout our world. Though far from perfect, the United Nations was created with this vision in mind and a quote from Isaiah still adorns the front of the offices in New York. But our flawed attempts fall short of Isaiah’s full vision. He describes a world only God can restore.

And this is the hope of Jews and Christians alike. We strain forward to a world of absolute perfect harmony. While past histories shape us, we are actually energized by the future. We long for God’s kingdom fully realized. Every week, Christians every where will pray, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done…” They are praying for nothing short of absolute and perfect harmony in the heavens and on the earth.

Instead of relegating these dreams to a Never Never Land of childhood fantasy, this Christmas we might began to dream of an Ever Ever Land. We might get out those wish lists and dream of a world perfected in love and grace. Where commerce is not based on who can take advantage of who, but all our exchanges are based on blessing and love.

While our earthly dreams are subject to fail and disappoint, the prophets revealed that we could never out dream the kingdom. Inevitably it will exceed all hopes and expectations. It is better than anything we could have ever hoped. This dream of God’s perfectly realized love drives us forward and gives us energy to live out of that kingdom now. Thus Jesus says that the world would know his disciples by their love one for another.

As we live with a vision and a longing of the kingdom, we trust in God’s faithfulness to reveal this kingdom and relate on the basis of an abundance of His love. We don’t have to scrape and steal and oppress others to get ahead. For our confidence is not the shifting sands of the present moment but in a coming kingdom that cannot fail. Thus we are free to love and lay down our lives for those around us. In fact, we are free to be seen as fools for the sake Christ. Fools because we have abandoned the way of a world that suggests that if I don’t look out for myself, others will take advantage of me. Fools because we choose to return love for hate, peace for war, kindness for anger and healing for hurting.

This Christmas may we begin to live out our wish lists and live what we pray: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…”

Christmas is Coming

About this time, children of all ages have begun to feel an anguish burning in the pit of their stomach. Each night more Christmas trees light up family rooms. Each day mantles and hearths blossom with Pine garland, Poinsettias and empty stockings. In the midst of these transformations, children begin discovering the anguished longing of winter butterflies awaiting Santa. I remember them well and in some strange way I still feel them.

When I was a boy, it was about this time that I would begin checking the paper every day, which posted a small box counting down the days until Christmas. Every day I counted and recounted the days. Every night I turned and twisted in bed impatiently hoping for Christmas.

If we pay attention, our childish festivities might open our eyes to the mystery and wonder of our world. As our homes and hearts prepare for the coming of Christmas, we unconsciously acknowledge that Christmas comes to us.

While we know it’s coming, it still comes as a shock. It comes suddenly, like the birth of a child in the middle of the night. It comes like a twister turning our world around and upside down. It comes like a dream too good to be true. No matter how it comes, it comes.

Now it would be an odd Christmas, if upon awaking we went to the neighbor’s house and searched their stockings for surprises from Santa. It would be odder still if we flew to London and entered the house at 48 Doughty Street, searching under their tree for our Christmas gifts.

We don’t go to Christmas, it comes to us. Our particular home and our particular hearth becomes the threshold to all the mystery and magic of Christmas. We don’t have to search for it across the street or the globe for that matter. The magic comes to us.

Beneath the magic of Santa and songs and presents and play, Christmas holds a far greater mystery: the mystery of the God become man; the mystery of the child who holds the worlds in his hands. the mystery of the crying babe who comes to comfort the pains of this aching world.

Christmas hosts an absurdly wonder-filled mystery: the mystery that in the baby Jesus, God appears as a particular person at a particular place in particular time. In this wondrous act, he forever reminds us of the value of each particular place and each particular time.

It may be that we wait for the coming of Christmas because we are really waiting for the coming the Son: who will come and make all things new. It may be that as we decorate our mantles and hang stockings by our hearths we are highlighting the wonder infused in the place where we live.

Instead of longing to find that magic place beyond our world: whether across the street, across the globe or across the cosmos, we might come to discover the treasure of the place where we live. Our home and our hearth still glow with glory. Our job and our relationships, our bodies and our minds are not simply accidents or happenstances but gifts from the Creator.

Every breath is a gift from the Creator of all things. And in every breath He comes to us with mercy and grace. And with every breath we have the power to lift unceasing thanks for this wonder-filled life.

As we await for the coming Christmas, may we behold him who came, who comes today, and who will come again.

Romanian Reflections

A Romanian friend, Oana, just introduced a new blog Wannabat. Hopefully she'll be posting some pix from her native land soon.

John the Baptist

His life was devoted to one purpose—prepare the way for the coming Messiah. John the Baptist had lived an ascetic life of absolute devotion to God. His burning passion was to see the Anointed One. In one sense, his life brought into focus the intense waiting of all ages for the Coming One: The new David that Isaiah proclaimed would usher in the kingdom of God and restore the world to an Edenic state of innocence.

When Jesus final appears, John the Baptist humbly yields the stage to Him acknowledging Jesus as the “Lamb of God who comes to take away the sins of the world.” John takes his leave with a warning announcing that Jesus would “burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”

In the lonely dungeon, John the Baptist hears reports that the one he proclaimed as Messiah, goes to the parties, does not fast, and surrounds himself with questionable people. He sends words to Jesus, “Are You the Coming One, or do we look for another?"

Jesus may have loved John the Baptist more than anyone on the earth. He saw John as one of the greatest prophets to ever live. And yet, even John could not see the fullness of the kingdom. Jesus alludes to Isaiah and other testimonies from the Old Testament to describes His call, “The blind see and the lame walk; the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear; the dead are raised up and the poor have the gospel preached to them” (Mtt 11:5; Is 35:5-6).

The kingdom of God has come but in a way, that not even John the Baptist had anticipated. And Jesus says, “(B)lessed is he who is not offended because of Me" (Mtt 11:6). The Messiah comes to the weary, to the waiting, to those lost and struggling in the darkness. The Messiah comes with the kingdom of God bringing joy to the sad, comfort to the mourners, hope to the hopeless, and humiliation to the proud.

The Messiah will come again. Though He tarries, we wait. We anticipate His coming by walking in the reality of His kingdom now. But we also grow weary, and sometimes even doubtful. One of the greatest trials we face in this life is the challenge of time, of waiting. We must wait upon the Lord. Our redemption is near and yet not quite near enough.

Like the children of the Exodus, we are crossing a desert. We are heading home to the presence of the Lord. Yet, the desert saps our energy, our strength, and even our faith. As we wait, we need the grace of God to “strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees” (IS 35:3). Our fearful hearts need to hear, "Be strong, do not fear! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God; He will come and save you" (Is 35:4).

Like John the Baptist, there are times when we may question and wonder, “Are you the coming one or should we look for another?” But He is faithful.
The same power that can cause a desert to blossom (Is 35:1) is at work in our hearts. The grace of God can bring new life and new hope to our weary souls. As we long for home, as we look for the coming of the Son, we also rest in His grace. His can lead by a way we do not know into a place we have never imagined.

In Question

My friend started a blog today. I encourage you to visit In Question. His posts should be provocative and give you ideas to wrestle with.

Christmas Carols

I've been perusing The Penguin Book of Carols by Ian Bradley this season. Some people will remember Ian from his book Celtic Christian Communities, which I highly recommend.

Anyway, he provides short stories on the background on a variety of Christmas hymns. And he reminds us that new carols are still being written. As an example, Bradley offers a little gem from contemporary hymnist Timothy Dudley-Smith. Here is a carol that Smith origninally wrote for a Christmas card in the late 70s. I enjoyed and hopefully you will to.

A Song Was Heard At Christmas

A song was heard at Christmas
To wake the midnight sky:
A saviour's birth, and peace on earth,
And praise to God on high.
The angels sang at Christmas
With all the hosts above,
And still we sing the newborn King
His glory and his love.

A star was seen at Christmas,
A herald and a sign,
That men might know the way to go
To find the child divine.
The wise men watched at Christmas
In some far eastern land,
And still the wise in starry skies
Discern their Maker's hand.

A tree was grown at Christmas,
A sapling green and young:
No tinsel bright with candlelight
Upon its branches hung.
But he who came at Christmas
Our sins and sorrow bore,
And still we name his tree of shame
Our life forevermore.

A child was born at Christmas
When Christmas first began:
The Lord of all a baby small,
The Son of God made man.
For love is ours at Christmas,
And life and light restored,
And so we praise through endless days
The Saviour, Christ the Lord.

Free Films

Amazon has been showing short films all throughout the season. So far four have been posted and one more is coming. These are actually pretty good and I recommend. The Amazon Theater hosts all these films.

Parousia

Just looking around this beautiful world of wonder reminds us that something is not quite right. Even though the gentle strains of the setting sun envelope my yard and trees in a soothing glow, I know something is not quite right. While I eat at my pleasure, many people starve. While I relax by watching Christmas films of love, joy, and peace on earth, many people hide out from fear of war. The world aches with broken hearts, wounded souls, violent oppression and a dark nothingness that chokes out all hope.

During Advent, these disonant chords keep us from attaching a simple sentamentality to our Christmas celebrations. Hope and joy coexist with pain and suffering. The freedom of the human will plagues this planet with countless evils. And yet, the Christian vision believes and hopes and moves toward the possibility of new age when the king will return and restore all things through his boundless grace.

Advent stirs the hope that evil does not conquor but love triumphs. Several years ago, I penned the following in hopes of this appearing, this "parousia" of the conquoring king.

Parousia

Rushing Spirit agitates the deep,
Earth awakes from restless sleep.
Blazing sky erupts in praise
Darkness fades in endless day.
He is coming.

Shepherds stand in holy fright,
Heaven erupts with peace-filled light.
Kings and crowns come tumbling down
Infant reigns on stable ground.
He is coming.

Wolf and sheep asleep on hay,
Viper and the infant play.
Nations stream up Zion’s mount,
Wisdom flows from timeless fount.
He is coming.

Advent Resources

Here are a few sites that provide helpful advent resources:
Ignatius
Anglicans Online
Textweek
Lift Up Your Hearts
CECM

Advent Calendar

This week we are meditating on the sudden, hopeful return of Christ. I’ve chosen a short poem that captures this sense of suddenness. This poem is written by Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury. Let us remember to pray for him and all our brothers and sisters in Anglican Communion.

Advent Calendar

He will come like last leaf’s fall.
One night when the November wind
has flayed trees to bone, and earth
wakes choking on the mould,
the soft shroud’s folding.

He will come like the frost.
One morning when the shrinking earth
opens on mist, to find itself
arrested in the net
of alien, sword-set beauty.

He will come like dark.
One evening when the bursting red
December sun draws up the sheet
and penny-masks its eye to yield
the star-snowed fields of sky.

He will come, will come,
will come like crying in the night,
like blood, like breaking,
as the earth writhes to toss him free.
He will come like child.

Rowan Williams

Peace

Over 2000 years ago, Isaiah sang a song of peace to a people with war in their hearts. He looked into the holy city of Jerusalem and saw a people corrupted with violent words and violent ways. Yet he envisioned a time when all nations would draw from the wellsprings of peace in Jerusalem. Listen…his song still echoes across our land.

“It shall come to pass in the latter days
that the mountain of the house of the LORD
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
and shall be lifted up above the hills;
and all the nations shall flow to it,
and many peoples shall come, and say:
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD,
to the house of the God of Jacob,
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths.”
For out of Zion shall go the law,
and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations,
and shall decide disputes for many peoples;
and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war anymore.”
Isaiah 2:2-4

We begin the Advent journey with Isaiah’s song on our lips. We yearn for peace and even cry out for peace but we live in a world bent on war.

Jerusalem is still a city consumed in war. In fact, it has known more violent conflict than virtually any other city in history. And yet, Isaiah’s song still echoes: “neither shall they learn war anymore.”

Looking past the pain of the present, Isaiah envisions the end. He sees Jerusalem as a city of peace—bringing peace to all nations of the earth. He sees a world of perfect harmony.

Not to be confused with an endless state of tranquility where nothing happens, harmony is a realm of endless variety and stunning diversity, and yet, like a masterpiece from Mozart, it brings complexity and depth of structure into a stunning resolution. Perfect harmony.

The Lord appears as a judge, a mediator, and an arbitrator. His wise judgments settle the grievances of all offended parties. In fact, the nations are so transformed by his intervention that they willingly transform their tools of destruction into tools of renewal.

Advent begins in hope by contemplating a hopeful end to all things. If we have no hope for peace, how can we ever work toward peace? How can we ever live toward peace? Without hope, we will consciously or unconsciously perpetuate the cycle of violence that engulfs our world.

The nations will never know peace as long as the people have war in their hearts. Many of those who scream for peace the loudest do it with a heart of rage. Each of us carry weapons of war—hurtful thoughts, hurtful words, hurtful actions. We hurl our invectives at those who oppose us, offend us, betray us, and oppress us.

and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war anymore.

Yet, if we truly embrace the Advent vision of the consummation of all things in the perfect justice and equity of God’s grace, then we might draw energy from that vision of peace even now. We might actually begin to live as peaceful people.

The Advent hope promises that the one great Arbitrator will ultimately settle all grievances. With this hope in mind, we can take our weapons of war and turn them into harvesting tools of healing thoughts, healing words and healing actions. We anticipate peace by helping the oppressed, loving the hurting and embracing our enemies.

During the mystery of Advent, may each of us personally enter into the season of renewal with a heart and life that echoes the peaceful dreams of Isaiah.

Personal vs Public Music

I've never liked walking into an office and seeing everyone plugged into their own personal headphones. Seems so cut off and individualized. I'd rather the music blair through the department--even if we don't like everything that's playing. Jeremy has some interesting comments on this topic at e-community.

Earth Cycles - Advent

As the seasons change, we change. The relationship of the sun to the earth impacts our weather and in turn impacts our lives. When temperatures drop, we change our clothes, our activities, our homes and even our attitudes. One way we acknowledge these changes is through our culture rituals.

When humans lived more agrarian lifestyles, the impact of these changes were more dramatic. Rituals and activities emerged, acknowledging changing seasons. Various rituals were enacted to help assure the best outcome during the coming season. In the ancient Mesopotamian culture, the onset of winter was a sign of creation coming undone, unraveling. The people engaged in various rituals to help stave off the chaos and keep them safe until another year. So at their root, many of these ancient rituals were ultimately about power and the challenge of impacting natural or divine power for the best outcome.

Jews and Christians have also marked the changing seasons with various holy days. Yet in some ways, the nature and character of Judeo-Christian festivals are different. At their root, each of these holy days are commemorative. While ritualized behavior may be part of the event, it is less about power and more about memory. The Jewish festivals memorialize the actions of their God on behalf of his people.

Thus the festival is not for God but for the people. It is to remind the people that there is a Creator who is benevolent, full of mercy and lovingkindness. It is a time to remember that God has not forsaken his people or this earth and that ultimately he will restore all things.

Following in the steps of her forefathers, the early Christians enacted festivals of memory. Their festivals all centered on the life and action of Jesus Christ. From birth to death to resurrection to future return, the Christians celebrated and celebrate Jesus through actions designed to reinforce our common memory.

And yet there is an odd juxtaposition of Christian celebrations and natural events. In December, the weather in the Northern Hemisphere grows colder and natural things appear to die. This is the time when Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus. Thus eternal and unquenchable life is celebrated in the midst of death. When death seems to dominate our landscape, we are reminded of life.

In the Spring, when the earth awakens from a winter nap, everything appears to come alive. It is then that Christians celebrate the death of Jesus. When everything appears beautiful and like paradise, we remember death—Jesus’ death and our own. We are mortal creatures who are dying. This memory helps put every day in proper perspective.

Of course, at this time we also celebrate the resurrection of Christ and coming of His Spirit at Pentecost. In spite of our own mortality, we are reminded of a hope that is not bound by the limitations of this earth.

The hope within the Jewish and Christian memory is that the God who has acted will ultimately act to reveal His kingdom on this earth. While humanity appears to act in incurably evil ways, we have hope that evil will eventually be eliminated and the goodness of God will forever prevail.

While some may use this hope to complacently await an escape from their problems on earth, the Judeo-Christian tradition has found that this hope gives us energy to act for good in the present moment. We resist all evil. We resist oppression of humans as well as destruction of this creation. And we believe that our actions are not futile.

Throughout our combined history, our people have held this hope that while our efforts may appear miniscule and doomed to fail, good will ultimately prevail because God’s lovingkindess will ultimately triumph.

As the days of November fade, we prepare to celebrate the Christian season of Advent-Christmas-Epiphany.

In the midst wars throughout the world, in the midst of scandals rocking the United Nations, in the midst of divisions across our political landscape, we pause and look upward with hope. In the midst of human striving, we remember. We wait. We watch for the coming of the Lord.

Roman Holiday

Kelly and I just finished watching Roman Holiday. This magical film takes the dream of being queen for a day in reverse: briefly allowing a princess to escape her responsilbities for an experience in the real world. The film raises some interesting questions about responsibility vs. self fulfillment. While our culture often encourages us to follow our dreams, maybe sometimes we are challenged to lay aside those dreams and choose something higher than self satisfaction.

FOUND Magazine

FOUND Magazine offers a fascinating glimpse of the things we throw away.

Phillis Wheatley

I recently discovered a fascinating early African American poet: Phillis Wheatley. She has an interesting history: captured and enslaved at a young age. In spite of her conditions, Wheatley rose above learning to read and write and eventually receiving her freedom.

9Marks

Ed Rosen recomended 9Marks. Interesting site. Excellent articles and interviews from a Reformed perspective.

Bible Reading Plans - Read the Bible in a Year

I was looking for some ideas for reading the Bible. Found an interesting resource today. Bible Reading Plans offers several possiblities.

Listening to the other

Thomas Friedman is a columnist of the NY Times and I find his articles thoughful and worth reading. Today he responded to the election of GW Bush by characterizing pro-Bush voters as follows:

It seemed as if people were not voting on his performance. It seemed as if they were voting for what team they were on.

This was not an election. This was station identification. I'd bet anything that if the election ballots hadn't had the names Bush and Kerry on them but simply asked instead, "Do you watch Fox TV or read The New York Times?" the Electoral College would have broken the exact same way.

This disappointed and I wrote him and told him so. I don't know if he'll ever read my note, so I thought I might just post here:

Mr. Friedman,

Your columns regularly offer thoughtful commentary on trade, politics and other issues impacting this nation and world. In fact, your time away from the "Times" this summer was like a long walk in across a dry wilderness.

Even your endorsement of G H Bush was thoughtful and made important points that should play a role in our public conversation. In spite of this, I was somewhat disappointed with your column today.

Your tendency to objectify all those who voted for GW is a denial of the uniqueness of personhood. While quantified research may give some slight indicators as to the reasons why people voted en masse for Bush to assume a simplistic notion like you represented is simply bad science and poor reasoning. You caricature Bush voters and then claim they represent a different America then the one you defend.

This disappoints me. I would think someone like yourself, with the nuanced thinking that is clearly evident in your columns would recognize the complexity behind why people act or vote in specific ways.

I am amazed at how often people praise diversity until someone disagrees with them. Now more than ever, our public discourse needs a good dose of Martin Buber and his call for genuine dialogue.

If we might take the risk of turning and facing some of those with whom we seem to vehemently disagree, we might be profoundly challenged and changed. And we might be surprised that these are real, living human beings who embody far more than a few social or political ideas that offend us, and in the process discover the amazing depths of commonality between us.

Keep writing. I look forward to keep reading.