Pastorbrentmiller

We Need to Talk About Bruno

‘I am the prophet and I smolder and burn. I scream and cry and wonder why you never seem to learn. To hear with your own hears, with your own eyes to see. I am the prophet won’t you listen to me?’

– Michael Card, from the song, The Prophet

It seems everyone these days is talking about not talking about Bruno.

Bruno, of course, is one of the characters in Disney’s most recent cinematic contribution, Encanto, which tells the story of the Madrigal family and their magical house. I’ll try not to ruin the movie much for those who have not seen it, but briefly, the members of the Madrigal family, all except one, Mirabel, have received magical gifts from their magical dwelling. With each gift, however, comes a tremendous burden, none greater than the one carried by the unfortunately un-talked about Bruno.

The problem with Bruno, it seems, is that he’s a bit of a downer. As the song informs us, Bruno has a habit of telling people things they don’t want to hear. On his sister’s wedding day, the sun was shining, and all seemed right with the world. Bruno said, ‘it looks like rain,’ and soon enough – a hurricane! A townsperson is told his fish will die, and it happens the next day. One man complains about being told he would increase in girth over time and, Walla! Beer gut! To another Bruno points out a receding hairline, and of course is blamed when the recipient of this news eventually goes bald. People come to fear his every ‘stuttering or stumbling,’ his ‘muttering or mumbling.’ They come to believe that Bruno is the cause of every impending calamity of which he speaks.

But he isn’t. He’s just a seer. An observer of reality. A truth-teller. If there are storm clouds in the sky, you should probably move the wedding inside. If your fish is sick, you should take care lest it die. If you eat too much, you will gain weight. If your hairline is making a run for your backside, you may as well get used to the idea that you’ll go bald someday. Bruno isn’t the cause of things. He’s just the one who points them out.

Which, I will reveal, remembering my promise not to ruin the movie too much, lands him in exile; hiding in the eaves and crawlspaces of his own home while his family and community do their darndest not to talk about him.

The Bible has people like Bruno. They’re called prophets. Seers and truthtellers. They speak for God, sometimes in the form of divine visions, more often by simply reading the signs of the times and communicating what is wrong and where things may go if certain courses aren’t altered (all under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, of course). Sometimes they tell of hopeful things (as does Bruno) but such words usually get lost in the rush of their chastisements and warnings. Theirs is the reputation of Gandalf in the halls of Rohan. They are seen as the harbingers of bad tidings. Storm crows.

God surely appreciates their efforts and rewards them, if not in life, in eternity. But when it comes to human society, the task of a prophet is a pretty thankless job. People don’t always (usually?) want to hear the truth. The most common reaction to a prophet’s words is exemplified by King Ahab’s response in the wake of Micaiah warning against his plan to go to war: ‘Didn’t I tell you? He never prophecies anything but trouble for me!’ (2 Chronicles 18:17). Jeremiah was, among other things, tossed in a cistern and held in stocks for his troubles. Isaiah, tradition holds, was sawed in half. Zechariah stoned in the courtyard of the Temple. No prophet had it easy. Frederick Buechner noted that ‘no prophet is on record as having asked for the job…like Abraham Lincoln’s story about the man being ridden out of town on a rail, if it wasn’t for the honor of the thing, the prophets would all have rather walked.[1]

But we need prophets. To help us see when we are wrong. To speak truth when the world goes mad. To point the way to sanity. Bruno, who no one wants to talk about, is exactly what the Madrigal family needs. Without him and his ‘prophecies they couldn’t understand,’ there would be no hope for them. Bruno’s truth-telling is what his family most desperately needs (watch the movie and you’ll find out precisely why). Which is why they most certainly need to talk about him, to think about his words and act upon them, just as much as people needed to talk about, listen, and respond to the prophets in Bible times.

Every generation needs its prophets. Its Brunos. Ours is no exception. There is a deplorable dearth of truth in our day. People create their own versions of it, even going so far as to label them ‘alternative facts.’ They stroll along in ignorance in self-created fantasies which harm others (and themselves). They deny evidence of impending calamity, even as they sow its seeds. They prefer to silence serious discussion of important matters for fear of upsetting either themselves or the people around them; like the false prophets and priests of old they cry ‘Peace, peace!’ when there is no peace (see, Jeremiah 6:14). Whether we are talking about political, cultural, environmental, spiritual, medical, scientific, or other realities, too many stick their heads in the sand and ignore the signs of the times. They’d rather pretend their ‘wedding day’ will be lovely, even as a hurricane bears down upon them.

Which is why I thank God for the Brunos in our midst. Yes, they may be downers, they may rain on our parades, but we need them. We dare not forget about them, sending them off to live in the eaves and basements while the world falls apart. We need them to call us to awareness, repentance, and action.

So by all means folks, let’s talk about Bruno.

And, more importantly, listen and respond to what Bruno has to say.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] Frederick Buchner, Wishful Thinking: A Seeker’s ABC, s.v. ‘Prophet.’

MLK and the Theology of Hope

Say not the days are evil – Who’s to blame?

Or fold your hands, as in defeat – O shame!

Stand up, speak out, and bravely,

In God’s name…

It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong,

How hard the battle goes, the day how long,

Faint not. Fight on!

Maltbie D. Babcock

This past week we marked the day that honors the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. No doubt you heard and read many eloquent testimonies to his life, legacy, and patient endurance in the face of evil. Among the words I read were these from the editorial board of The Washington Post:

‘King preached both urgency and patience – nonviolent perseverance in the face of fire hoses, dogs, beatings, lynchings. Every second of marginalization [for African Americans] was intolerable. Yet it took a decade after King’s 1955 Montgomery, Ala., bus boycott for Congress to approve the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1955. Enslaved Americans had been freed a century before. King did not lose hope. He kept working.’

King understood that it takes patience to overcome evil. For King evil was not theoretical. He knew that evil is real and difficult to root out. In the face of all that he and his partners endured in the struggle against evil, the obstacles that stood in the way of progress, and the slow pace of reform, it would have been easy for him to have lost hope and given up. Truth be told, there were moments when he was tempted to do so. But he never did. He kept hoping. He kept working.

In this, I submit, King expressed the Theology of Hope.

The Theology of Hope always endures in the face of evil. It knows that in a fallen, broken world, evil exists, and that from time to time, gains the power to, for a time, have its way. But it does not let that knowledge quench the hope for better days. It believes. It perseveres. It works for better days even when their arrival is delayed. For it knows, as King so famously said (although it was actually the Reverend Theodore Parker who said it first) that ‘the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.’

We need King’s perspective in the times we face. As a new year breaks upon the shore of our lives, there is much that might cause us to despair. America is becoming balkanized. People believe the most bizarre conspiracy theories. A slow-moving coup continues apace. The days when people pulled together and sacrificed for the sake of the general welfare seem to be gone forever; individualism, at least in some quarters, has all but triumphed over communitarian love for neighbor. Truth is both relative and disposable. Democratic principle, the foundation on which our society has been built, however imperfectly, is under assault and crumbling. What happens when the very foundations of a society are broken? When everyone does what is right in their own eyes? When truth is lost, and people are divided? History tells the answer: evil rises and takes over. And yes, my friends, we are witnessing evil rising to do so before our very eyes.

I suppose some at this point may be thinking, ‘Gee, Brent doesn’t sound very hopeful. Where is his Theology of Hope?’ Please bear with me. I confess that I am not extremely hopeful about stopping evil in its tracks at the moment. Evil exists in our society (it always does in any society) and all signs point to its rising. We may well be entering a period of time unlike any experienced in most of our lifetimes, a period when evil men and women take the reins of power and bring down the veil of darkness. Just how dark things may get I cannot say. But darkness does indeed seem to be on the horizon. To say so is not to express the loss of hope. Rather, it is to acknowledge current trends. It is to acknowledge the same reality that King knew, that from time to time, and for a time, evil, which always exists, gains in power.

Hope, you see, is not the fool’s hope that denies the existence of evil, but the solid ground on which we stand even as it rises. Hope abounds, even when evil seems to gain the upper hand. I for one, have not lost hope in these darkening days. For I know what King knew. Evil exists, and evil may prosper for a time. This is the reality of life in a fallen world. But the moral arc of the universe bends toward justice. It bends toward love. And if that is true, and it is, then evil will not endure. It may have its hour, but in the end, it will be cast down. Love and justice will have the final say.

Christian faith proclaims this. It proclaims the Theology of Hope. As a Christian, I believe in the light that shines in the darkness that shall never be overcome. I believe in the God who raises the dead, who can turn the darkest days to the bright morning light. I believe in the day of evil’s destruction and the restoration of all things. I believe in the sun of righteousness that rises with healing in its wings. And I believe that, until that day comes, while the darkness may come from time to time, the darkness will last only a night; everlasting joy will come with the morning.

So what do we do if we live to see days when darkness falls in deepening shades?

There is a great scene in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, in which Frodo Baggins, having found himself torn from his beloved and peaceful Shire and cast into the center of a cosmic battle between good and evil, laments that such circumstances have come during his lifetime. ‘I wish the ring had never come to me,’ he tells Gandalf, ‘I wish none of this had ever happened.’ Gandalf’s reply is remarkable: ‘So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.’ And then he adds these encouraging words: ‘There are other forces at work in this world beside the will of evil…and that is an encouraging thought.’

Indeed it is. This is why we can have faith that the moral arc of the universe bends toward justice and love. Because there is One who does the bending: the God of love and justice.

And so, when evil days come, we cling to hope. We persevere. We endure. And we work. We speak truth. We strive for justice. We live in such a way that the world sees an alternative to the madness taking place around us. We show the world a different future as we serve as signposts pointing to better days. As Gandalf suggested, we do the best with the time given to us. And we believe that God will use that time, and our efforts, to bring about better days.

That is what Christian faith does when darkness falls. It holds, as King did, to the Theology of Hope.

And waits for morning.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

The Outsiders

‘In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?’ For we observed his star at its rising and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all of Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea…’ (NRSV).

In his Meditations, Soren Kierkegaard comments on the remarkable fact that the chief priests and scribes of Israel, the very men who knew the prophecies of the Messiah so well they could tell the place of his birth, were not stirred to action at the news of the wise men. Here were the very people who had, supposedly, longed for and preached about his coming, and yet, when he came, they remained in place; only the magi went forward to the town of Bethlehem to behold the long-awaited newborn King. Kierkegaard writes:

‘What vexation it must have been for the kings, that the scribes who gave them the news they wanted remained quiet in Jerusalem! ‘We are being mocked,’ the kings might have thought. For indeed what an atrocious self-contradiction that the scribes should have the knowledge and yet remain still.’

It isn’t hard to see why they remained still. These men were connected to Herod. Perhaps they did not approve of all Herod stood for, indeed it would be hard to believe otherwise, given Herod’s ghastly reputation, but they certainly liked the perks of being connected. They were, in essence, court prophets with easy access to the halls of power. They treasured the honor and authority of their position, the fine and flowing robes that spoke to their prestige, the sumptuous feasts at the table of the king, and their places among the councils of the mighty. Had they left with the wise men, all of that would have been lost. Who would leave such a life to find the one born in the impoverished town of Bethlehem? And so rather than go to see the one they supposedly believed in, they remained in Herod’s court, savoring their insider status and the glories of a lesser kingdom.

Insiders are like that. Men and women of influence, those who enjoy a certain level of what the world calls success, can become so enthralled by the perks of their position and their political, social, or economic masters that they lose sight of what truly matters. Sadly, we live in a world where most want to be insiders. To have access to the halls of power, to possess honor and authority, to wear fine and flowing robes, to feast sumptuously at the tables of influence, to find places in the councils of the mighty, that is what life is all about. Who would trade such a life to follow the one found in impoverished places like Bethlehem? And so as it was in the case of the magi, it remains today. Most, even in the church it seems, would prefer to remain in the halls of Herod than risk their insider status in pursuit of one whose kingdom is of a different nature.

For Jesus’ Kingdom, of course, is of different nature. It does not occupy the halls of power. It does not possess the kind of honor and authority coveted by the insiders of the world. It involves no flowing robes, no sumptuous feasts around tables of influence, no place in the councils of those whom the world calls mighty. Indeed, the only time Jesus spent time in those halls and councils was when he was on trial for his life.

Which is why Jesus’ Kingdom is usually filled with outsiders.

Just take a look at the cross. As Jesus died on Calvary, he didn’t have much of a following. Most had abandoned him. Only one of the twelve, John, was present, along with several women, one of whom was his mother. There was a criminal dying on a cross to his side, and a Centurion, who, while he may have begun the day as an insider, ended it by treasonously declaring Jesus to be God’s Son.[1] None of these would find access to the halls of power. None would ever find positions of honor and authority in the eyes of the world. None would wear fine flowing robes that enhanced their prestige in the eyes of the people. None would feast sumptuously at the tables of a king or take places in the councils of the mighty. Their positions at the foot of the cross marked them out, not only as insignificant men and women in the eyes of the insiders, but as men and women willing to risk their reputations and lives for the sake of an upside-down kingdom. For them, the glories of the world were nothing when compared to the infinite value of simply being near Jesus.

Such is the way of things. The insiders, those with much to lose, are the most reluctant, the most hesitant, to move in the direction of Jesus. But the outsiders, those with little or nothing to lose, or at least those who are willing to give up what they do have for the sake of something better, something real, those who do not love their lives so much that they are afraid to lose them, will always be found leaving the places of honor for a place at Jesus’ side. They will always be found, not in the halls of power, but in impoverished towns, beside lowly mangers, and at the foot of the cross, willing to follow the one who led them there.

This year, may we be found among them.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] Son of God was a title belonging to the Roman Emperor.

The Politics of Christmas

‘At that time, the Roman Emperor, Augustus, decreed that a census should be taken throughout the Empire…’ – Luke 2:1

The second chapter of Luke’s Gospel contains the most widely remembered account of Jesus’ birth. Linus Van Pelt likely has something to do with its fame. For many of us, it just doesn’t feel like Christmas until we hear the story.

We can imagine the scene unfolding before our eyes. There’s Mary and Joseph, racing into the ‘little town of Bethlehem,’ unable to find room at the inn – though they were more likely in a relatives’ home, just downstairs with the animals. Still, it’s a comfy, cozy scene, as Jesus is born into the midst of domestic tranquility – though he really wasn’t. Births are hardly tranquil events. But never mind, there’s baby Jesus, all swaddled and warm, radiant beams emanating from his holy face – well, not really. OK, so maybe the way we imagine Luke’s scene is off a bit, but it’s still a wonderful story – the story of the Living God, the One through whom all things were made, becoming flesh to dwell among us. And of course, adding to the wonder is the presence of the shepherds, outcasts invited in, after first being ‘sore afraid’ and told by angels that they would find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger, complete with a heavenly chorus of ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace, goodwill to men.’ Yes, that’s what Christmas is all about Charlie Brown.

What’s interesting though, apart from the little things we get wrong, is the part of the story we miss. Over the years, we listen to sermons on what this story meant to just about everyone involved: Mary, Joseph, the Shepherds, the angels. Then we branch out into other Nativity-related texts, bringing in the Magi, Herod, Zechariah, Elizabeth, Simeon, Anna. We even flash ahead and talk about the ministry of John the Baptist from time to time. But there is one character, prominent in Luke’s account, that we tend to ignore, or, at best, mention briefly without comment.

Augustus Caesar. He’s part of the Nativity story too. Augustus was the Emperor of the Roman Empire at the time of Jesus’ birth. After the death of his adoptive father, Julius Caesar, there had been a power struggle, complete with civil war, throughout the empire. Eventually Augustus emerged victorious, which brought an end to the strife and ushered in a period known as the Pax Romana, or Roman peace, though it was, in truth, the peace of the oppressor, not the oppressed. Nonetheless, at least to the Romans, Augustus was a hero. He was rewarded with absolute power: military, political, and imperial. He was worshipped and adored as the ‘Son of God’ (yes, that was his title) and everyone was expected to pledge their allegiance to him. The world moved at his word, the activity in the wake of his order for a census being a case in point. Augustus said the word, and everyone moved to be registered. If there was one guy on earth of whom it could be said, ‘he holds all the cards,’ it was Augustus Caesar.

The original readers of Luke’s account understood all this. The mere mention of Augustus in the opening line said it all. But reading on, by way of contrast, we discover the son of another King. His name was Joseph, the descendant of David. You would not have known Joseph was descended from kings by looking at him. It had been a while since David had been king; his heirs long removed from the throne. Joseph was a mere craftsman, and an impoverished one at that. He held no military, political, or imperial power. He was neither worshipped nor adored. The world didn’t move for him. He was one of the ‘moved.’

As was his adopted son to be, Jesus. Yes, Jesus and Augustus were both adopted into a royal line. The difference was that while Augustus was adopted into the lap of luxury and power, Jesus was adopted into the lap of poverty and weakness. The contrast between Augustus and Jesus could not have been starker. Like I said, in the eyes of the world, Augustus held all the cards. Jesus held none.

Which was exactly the way God wanted it. The way the story unfolds reveals that God arranged for the arrival of His Son (for, after all that’s who Jesus REALLY is) in a manner that might cause us to rethink what power is all about. Luke tells the story masterfully, using words that, while tame to modern ears after decades of overuse, were, for his first readers, shocking. The angel brought the shepherds ‘Good News of Great joy.’ Good News. The Gospel. In Greek, euangelion. In the Roman world, that word had a specific meaning. It referred to an imperial pronouncement, usually accompanied by flags and political ceremony, that an heir to the empire’s throne had been born, or that a distant battle had been won. The Angel went on to say that someone had indeed been born, calling him both Savior and Lord. Again, in Rome, these words had specific meaning. Savior was a title given to – guess who? Augustus! He was the one who had healed the chaos of Rome and brought the empire into a golden age. Lord, as well, was a title for the Supreme Roman ruler. And then came the song of the heavenly host: ‘Glory to God in the Highest, and peace on earth to those on whom God’s favor rests.’ Similar choruses were sung to Augustus, who, after all, had brought ‘peace’ to the empire. The words to one such ode were inscribed upon a government building in Asia Minor in 6 BC:

‘The most divine Caesar…we should consider equal to the Beginning of all things…for when everything was falling into disorder and tending toward dissolution, he restored it once more and gave the whole world a new aura; Caesar…the common good fortune of all…the beginning of life and vitality…all the cities unanimously adopt the birthday of the divine Caesar as the new beginning of the year…whereas providence which has regulated our whole existence…has brought our life to the climax of perfection in giving to us the emperor Augustus…who being sent to us and our descendants as Savior, has put an end to war and has set all things in order; and whereas having become god manifest, Caesar has fulfilled all the hopes of earlier times…the birthday of the god Augustus has been for the whole world the beginning of the Gospel.’

Get it? To the Roman world, a world focused on military, political, and imperial power, Augustus Caesar was the Good News. He was the Gospel. He was Savior and Lord. He was the one worthy of worship. God manifest among us! But in Luke’s story, the tale is flipped. The angels proclaim Jesus, the manger baby, to be the Good News. Jesus is the Gospel. Jesus is Savior and Lord. He is the one worthy to be worshipped. He is God manifest among us!

This makes the angel’s announcement the most politically subversive in history. It is the proclamation that the world’s glamorization of military, political, and imperial power isn’t all it is cracked up to be. It is the proclamation that in God’s eyes, true power is found in humility and weakness. The proclamation that, despite what the politics of Rome proclaim, God’s politics, the politics of Christmas, points to a different reality: Jesus is Lord and Caesar is not. If you want a Savior, a bringer of peace, you must follow Jesus, not the emperor.

Well, that’s nice. But does it have anything to do with us? Of course, it does. Perhaps, at this moment in history, and in this country, it has more to do with us than at any other time in recent memory. American society is deeply divided. Over what? Over who gets to play Caesar. There’s a lot that needs to happen to bridge that divide. A lot of soul searching, deep listening, and critical thinking needs to happen, for as Jesus said, a house divided against itself cannot stand. But whatever the rest of society chooses to do, we who call ourselves Christians especially need to take a deep breath and search our hearts.

For the great temptation, first presented to Jesus in the wilderness (see, Luke 4:1-13) and us ever since, is that we will place our hope in power games and entangle ourselves in the politics of empire. That we will follow imperial saviors. That we will embrace a false Augustinian gospel, which is, as Paul would put it, no gospel at all (see, Galatians 1:6-9). For you see, we were never meant to sing songs to the empire, be it red, blue, or purple. Be it Roman or American. Our call has been, is, and always will be, to join the chorus of the shepherds and angels and proclaim that there is only one Gospel. One Savior. One Lord. One who is worthy of our worship. He is the one born and laid in a manger, who lived to die on a cross for the sins of the world, who, from the moment of his birth, was proclaimed to rule a different kind of Kingdom; to be a different kind of King.

That’s not to say Jesus would have nothing to say about the issues of our day, or that those who follow him should stay silent in the face of evil. That would be wrong too. But as we discern what we should say and do we must remember that in a world filled with those who still believe that the path to glory is the way of Augustus, who strive for, and pledge allegiance to, military, political, and imperial power, there is but one choice for those who claim the title ‘Christian.’ That choice is to forsake all other allegiances and embrace the politics of Christmas, allowing its author to inform our place and position on all matters. This is the politics that calls us to stand only where Jesus stands and say and do only what he would say and do.

To paraphrase a line from Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw’s Jesus for President, this is the politics that will cause the faithful to say to those political, military, and imperial powers that demand their fealty: ‘Enough your imperial eagles. Enough with your donkeys and elephants. We pledge our allegiance to the Lamb.’

This Christmas, may we all do so.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Note: in addition to the paraphrased quote from Claiborne and Haw, I want to credit their book for the inscription to Caesar, historical references to meaning of ‘Gospel,’ ‘Savior’ and ‘Lord,’ and the overall spirit of this post.

Boo Radley and the Gospel of Christmas

‘When Israel was a child, I loved him, and I called my son out of Egypt. But the more I called to him, the farther he moved from me, offering sacrifices to the images of Baal and burning incense to idols. I myself taught Israel how to walk, leading him along by the hand. But he didn’t know or even care that it was I who took care of him. I led Israel along with my ropes of kindness and love. I lifted the yoke from his neck, and I myself stooped to feed him’ – Hosea 11:1-4 (New Living Translation)

Back in the 1970s, The Animals had a hit song that included the line, ‘I’m just a soul whose intentions are good, O Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood.’ I sometimes think it’s a line God could sing to himself. There are some who adhere to the theology of Homer Simpson, who once prayed, ‘O smiteful One, tell me who to smite and they shall be smoten!’ God, to many, is violent, vengeful, and vindictive.

It doesn’t help that professing Christian promote this idea. Some time ago, a group of ‘Christian’ protestors gathered just a block from the church where I serve bearing signs that proclaimed God’s hatred for the LGBT community, feminists, liberals, and a host of others. And while that’s an extreme example, there are others who, while seeming more respectable, nonetheless, say things that render God unapproachable. It’s a long and inglorious tradition. At the time of Jesus’ birth, some religious leaders peddled a God who could only be approached with extreme trepidation. Indeed, if you were sick, poor, or beset with problems, they said, it was almost certainly your fault, and you needed to clean up your act before God would have anything to do with you. Far from the image of God depicted by Hosea, who led his child by the hand despite his failures, these religious leaders made God out to be the bogeyman.

You can understand how this view came to be. Israel’s history was ripe for misinterpretation. Prophets repeatedly called Israel to faithfulness, warning of the consequences of turning from Yahweh, and again and again, when Israel broke faith, trouble ensued. When she did, it was easy to interpret events to mean that God had brought wrath and violence upon his people. In fact, God did no such thing; the people, by rejecting God’s lifegiving ways, had brought wrath and violence upon themselves. But even as Israel faced the consequences of her foolishness, God never turned from her. Through the same prophets who issued words of warning, God also spoke words of consolation, of his longing for his people to return to him that he might, as Hosea said a bit later in his book of prophecy, ‘love them freely’ (Hosea 14:4). Yes, even when Israel turned, God remained faithful. His love remained unconditional. Somehow though, the religious leaders in the days before (and after) Jesus’ birth missed that. They felt you had to earn God’s love, and if you didn’t, it would probably be best for you to stay away. And so, the image of a vindictive God got all the press, and the image of the God whose sole desire was to comfort his children as a mother comforts hers, was, by and large, lost.

But God had a plan to fix that. Michael W. Smith has a great Christmas Song, The Final Word, wherein he sings, ‘in the space of the beginning, was the living Word of light, when that word was clearly spoken all that came to be was right. All creation had a language, words to say what must be said, all day long the heavens whispered, signing words in scarlet red. Some had failed to understand it, so God spoke the Final Word, on a silent night in Judah’s hills, a baby’s cry was heard.’ Christmas, folks, is God’s answer to our misconceptions about him.

At Christmas, God, who had, as the writer of Hebrews tells us, spoken previously through the prophets, now spoke through the Son, who is no one less than God with us. God became one of us, descending from the infinite reaches of eternity into the womb of a virgin, born as a helpless infant and laid in a feeding trough. He became first a craftsman who understood the labor of men and then the gentle, compassionate teacher who healed the sick, lifted the despondent, shared companionship with notorious sinners, and never, not once, turned anyone away, no matter who they were, where they had been, or what they had done. In the Incarnation, in the person of Jesus, we behold the true image of God. An image that defies the misconceptions that have survived from the first century to our own. Dick Westley put it this way: ‘the old image of a vindictive, mean and jealous God gives way in Jesus to the God of faith who cherishes people, all people, and has made his abode with them. Jesus presented a God who does not demand but gives; does not oppress but raises up; does not wound but heals. A God who forgives instead of condemning and liberates instead of punishing.’

This was the purpose of the Incarnation. To, as Brennan Manning put it, ‘convince us of the faithful love of God.’

Some years ago, I caught a glimpse of this wonderful truth while reading one of my favorite books, To Kill a Mockingbird. Harper Lee’s story is cherished for many reasons. It is a story of racial injustice, of a black man, Tom Robinson, on trial in the south for a crime he didn’t commit. It’s the story of Atticus Finch, a man of integrity who fights for justice in an unjust world (forget the version from that other book!). It’s the coming-of-age story of Atticus’ two children, Scout, his 6-year-old tomboy daughter, and her older brother Jem. But it’s also the story of the enigmatic Arthur Radley, known to all as Boo.

No one really knows Boo. Scout describes his house down the street as a home ‘inhabited by an unknown entity the mere description of whom was enough to make us behave for days on end.’ In truth, this ‘malevolent phantom’ is a 33-year-old man with special needs, but no one knows that. The stories about him are whoppers. Jem insists he’s ‘six feet tall, judging from his tracks,’ and ‘dines on raw squirrels and any cats he can catch.’ The rumor is that he peeps through windows at night, has bloodstained hands, a jagged scar on his face, and yellow teeth. Everyone knows to stay away from the Radley place. No one ever climbs the steps to say ‘hey’ on a Sunday afternoon, no one dares to pick pecans from the tree in the Radley yard. If a baseball was hit into it, ‘it was a lost ball, no questions asked.’

During the course of the story, Scout and Jem become curious about Boo and begin to play games designed to make ‘Boo Radley come out’ so they can get a look at him. They don’t really get anywhere. But along the way, strange things happen that are not in keeping with the stories they’ve heard. Once, while playing in a tire that accidentally rolls all the way up the Radley sidewalk onto the steps, Scout hears someone laughing inside. Another time, after running from a failed attempt to sneak up on Boo’s back porch at night, Jem got his pants caught on barbed wire and had to run home in his underwear. The next morning, when he went back to get them, they were mended and neatly rolled up as if they expected him. And then there were the presents. Scout and Jem would find them in the knothole of a tree in Boo’s yard. Two soap dolls, a boy and girl: images of themselves. A watch and chain. Good luck pennies. A ball of twine. Chewing gum. An old spelling bee medal. An aluminum knife. It should have been obvious who they came from, but with all their misconceptions, Scout and Jem never suspected that Boo was their source.

The year progresses and Atticus tries in vain to defend Tom Robinson. The racist jury convicts him, and the hearts of the children break. Scout thoughts increasingly tend in Boo’s direction. Then one night walking home from a school pageant, Scout and Jem are attacked by the racist Bob Ewell, who is out for revenge against Atticus for making him look like a fool at the trial. He’s out for blood, but suddenly from out of the woods comes the unknown hero who has been listening and watching all along. He saves the children and carries an injured Jem home. As folks gather at the Finch’s to figure out what happened, the hero, who is of course the misunderstood Boo Radley, huddles in the corner out of sight, as if waiting for someone to invite him in. Scout sees he’s nothing like what people have said. She watches as a timid smile breaks across his face. ‘Hey Boo,’ she says. Her father makes the introduction: ‘Jean Louise [Scout’s true name], this is Mr. Arthur Radley. I believe he already knows you.’ Smiling, he whispers to Scout, ‘Will you take me home?’ Scout does, leading Boo by the hand to his front porch. Scout turns and looks at her town, suddenly seeing what the past year must have looked like from Boo’s perspective. And this is what she sees:

‘It was summertime, and two children scampered down the sidewalk toward a man approaching in the distance…still summertime, and the children came closer… Fall, and his children fought on the sidewalk…Fall, and the children trotted to and fro around the corner, the day’s woes and triumphs on their faces. They stopped at an oak tree, delighted, puzzled, apprehensive. Winter, and the children shivered on the front gate…Summer again, and he watched his children’s heart’s break. Autumn again, and Boo’s children needed him. One time, Atticus said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough.’

This Christmas season, as I stand on Boo’s porch with Scout, I see what it must be like for God to be misunderstood, even feared. Maybe you, reader, are someone who has misunderstood and feared him. Maybe you have been taught to stay away from him just as Jem and Scout were taught to keep away from the Radley place. Maybe you would never ordinarily dare to drop by his house on a Sunday to say ‘hey.’ If so, I want you to know something. He isn’t who you’ve been led to believe. Get the old images out of your head. Imagine instead, a manger. A baby. Can you see him? Let me introduce you. This is Jesus. This is God. I believe he already knows you. He has watched and smiled and laughed while you have played. He has lavished all sorts of gifts upon you. He has hurt when you hurt. And right now, the thing he wants more than anything, is for you to invite him in. He isn’t angry with you. He loves you and wants to be part of your life. This Christmas, I pray you let him in.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Time to Share

‘If you have two shirts, give one to the poor. If you have food, share it with those who are hungry’ – John the Baptist, Luke 3:11

The news hit the day after Thanksgiving. As tens of millions of Americans rushed to stores and online to take advantage of Black Friday sales, the World Health Organization released news about the dreaded Omicron Variant. Stock markets plunged, travel restrictions were imposed, and supply lines came to a stand-still. Suddenly, the prospect of a post-Thanksgiving/holiday Covid surge took on dire new dimensions as people contemplated the news that the new variant boasts a ‘constellation of mutations’ that may enable it to evade both vaccine and natural immunity.

The jury is still out on just how bad this really is, so it is premature to panic. It may well be the case, one can hope, that this will turn out to be much ado about nothing. Nonetheless, the arrival of a new ‘variant of concern’ offers an opportunity to reflect on the world’s response to the pandemic, in particular the failure of the wealthier nations to share their vaccine blessedness with less affluent countries.

Omicron has its origins in South Africa, a nation with a relatively low vaccination rate (35%). Poorer African nations are more severely under-vaccinated. Nigeria, for example, has a rate of 1.7%. Ethiopia, 1.3%. The Democratic Republic of Congo is at 2.1%. The continent as a whole stands at around 4%, with poorer nations averaging, as the examples cited evidence, less than 2%.

And that’s just Africa. Poorer countries around the world are overwhelmingly unvaccinated.

As a Christian, I find this appalling, as I hope you do too. Two reasons, the first being basic fairness. John the Baptist’s observation about sharing clothing and food seems to apply to vaccines just as well. In wealthier nations, including the United States, we throw expired vaccines away every day. We have far more than we need (even if the persistently stubborn were to break down and take a needle, we would have plenty). Seven days ago, America reached the point where 36% of Americans had received a third dose of the vaccine. I myself am so boosted, a decision I weighed carefully, considering the very topic I am currently addressing. I decided to get the shot because they were abundant here in the states and, given the current state of vaccine hesitancy, would go bad if not used. It did pain me somewhat to know I was getting a third shot when hundreds of millions have yet to get one.

This widespread availability of the vaccine at home, and the receipt of boosters, is not necessarily a cause for hand wringing. Citizens of wealthier nations could, if we set our collective mind to it, provide more than enough vaccine for both ourselves and the world. I am no expert, and I am sure there are deep complexities involved, but two steps in particular seem in order. First, wealthier nations could simply create a Marshall-type plan on Covid and appropriate billions of dollars to the purchase and deployment of vaccines throughout the world. Second, the Pharmaceutical companies that created the available vaccines could release their patents, enabling vaccines to be developed at a faster pace throughout the world. Pope Francis called for such a step in October, calling on Pharmaceutical companies to ‘Make a gesture of humanity and allow every country, every people, every human being, to have access to the vaccines.’

‘Oh but we can’t spend our money distributing vaccines everywhere!’ I can hear some say. ‘We need to make sure we have enough vaccine to protect ourselves! Not everyone is vaccinated here. America first!’ Putting aside that Americans here have had plenty of time to get vaccinated, this argument is hollow, self-serving, and certainly contrary to the teachings of Jesus. I love the story of Jesus and the Syro-Phoenician woman in the Gospels. A foreigner came to Jesus asking for healing for her daughter. Jesus, knowing his disciples’ prejudices, initially put her off by saying he had come for the children of Israel, not outsiders, thereby revealing the ugliness of the disciples’ nationalist, ‘Israel first’ mentality. When she persisted in her pleas for help, Jesus delivered the woman’s daughter to wholeness. There are many lessons in the story, but among them is the realization that Jesus didn’t just offer ‘healthcare’ to those close to home. He made it available wherever it was needed.

As for the release of patents, I am sure that I (and the Pope) will be accused of naivete. Do you not understand the nature of the pharmaceutical industry? Or the precedent it would set for the future? Why should companies that invest millions, even billions, not be able to reap the rewards of their labor. To tamper with the invisible hand of the Pharmaceutical marketplace would be to denigrate capitalism. Well, in the first place, these vaccines were produced, at least in the United States (and I’m sure elsewhere) in part with public money, aka taxpayer dollars. And in the second place, this is a crisis moment in which millions of lives are at stake. If Big Pharma chooses profits over human lives at such a time as this, it will reveal the moral bankruptcy of its corporate soul and deserve whatever government encroachment on their turf ensues. As far as I’m concerned, if they will not release their patents voluntarily, they should be made to do so. Cries of socialism be damned.

The second reason I find the current state of vaccine disparity so appalling is this: it is not only morally wrong; it is galactically stupid. Failure to stop the spread of this mutating virus throughout the world means it will have more opportunities to metamorphose as it spreads, producing ever more variants of concern, each potentially more virulent than the last. We are flipping out over the Omicron variant at present. One wonders what happens by the time we get to the last letter of the Greek alphabet. The Omega variant might be one that lives up to its name, to the horror of us all.

The wealthier nations and the Pharmaceutical companies have a choice. We can do the right thing, save millions of lives, and in the process save ourselves. Or we can forsake the advice of John the Baptist to share, cling to what is ours, and watch the world descend into a chaos of our own making.

It’s time to listen to the Baptizer. It’s time to share. If we don’t, we may all live to regret it.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Make Decency Normal Again

‘You have heard that our ancestors were told, ‘You must not murder. If you commit murder, you are subject to judgment.’ But I say to you, if you are even angry with someone, you are subject to judgment! If you call someone an idiot, you are in danger of being brought before the court. And if you curse someone, you are in danger of the fires of hell’ – Jesus, in Matthew 5:21-22 (NLT)

According to Jesus, words matter. The things we say, the things we suggest, have meaning, both for those who hear them and for the state of own hearts. Holding another person in contempt, such as we evidence when we call someone a disparaging name or curse them, is serious business. Sticks and stones may break our bones, but when we say things that put another person’s physical, spiritual, emotional, or psychological well-being in danger, we imperil our very souls. Treating people with decency and respect, valuing them as fellow pilgrims on the journey of life, holding them up instead of tearing them down, even when we are talking about those with whom we may have reason to disagree, matters to Jesus.

Yesterday, the United States House of Representatives voted to censure one of its members. You probably know the story. Representative Paul Gosar from Arizona had posted on Twitter a doctored anime video depicting himself flying through the air with a sword and slashing at the neck of New York’s Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. In the video, blood sprays from the wound as AOC’s neck snaps back, lifeless, and dead. Gosar then turns his attention to President Joe Biden, his next apparent victim.

Decency in political discourse seems to be on its last legs in this country, but even so, this was beyond the pale. In defense of the motion to censure Gosar, Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi remarked, ‘We can’t have members [of the House] joking about killing one another.’ That such a defense had to be made at all is illustrative of how bad things have become in America.

Not surprisingly (I wish I could say something like ‘shockingly’ here), Pelosi’s view of the matter was not supported by the members of Gosar’s party, all but three of whom voted against censure (two, Representatives Liz Cheny and Adam Kinzinger admirably voted in favor, a third Republican Congressman, David Joyce, who ironically serves on the House Ethics Committee, voted ‘present’ – hardly a profile in courage there). To many opposed to the motion, the video was ‘just a joke.’ How on earth it can be considered acceptable to joke about murdering a woman (or anyone for that matter), I cannot begin to understand. But when you consider further that AOC has been vilified by conservatives and right wing zealots for years (the former’s rhetoric fueling the hate of the latter; the two groups are becoming increasingly indistinguishable), that as a result she receives a daily briefing each morning about the latest threats against her life, that, on January 6^th, she was among those most likely to be murdered (or worse) by the insurrectionists at the Capitol, one might think that, perhaps, Republicans would realize the dangers of such a ‘joke,’ and that, further considering Gosar’s affiliations with neo-Nazis and right wing thugs, it wasn’t a joke at all but a calculated attempt to raise the temperature of hate against a rival, liberal member of Congress, her safety be damned. There certainly wasn’t anything funny about that video. In fact, if you or I had posted it, we almost surely would have received a visit from the Secret Service.

I can hear the conservative AOC haters now: but she’s a Socialist! This was just meant to highlight how dangerous she is; that we are at war for the soul of our country (this has actually been said in defense of Gosar). Come off it. I don’t care if AOC is a strident Communist (which she isn’t). You don’t treat anyone like this. Not if your Mama raised you right. And especially not if you claim to be a follower of Jesus, who, remember, demands that we not speak or act in ways that hold others in contempt or risk placing their lives in peril.

In support of the motion, AOC took the floor and gave a speech that is exactly what our country needs to hear as it continues to slouch toward the annihilation of decency. You can watch her speech here. I urge you to do so. I would go so far as to say that, whatever your politics are, if you can listen to her words and disagree with her on this matter, if you can listen to her words and continue to defend someone like Gosar, if you can listen to her words and continue to believe that it is acceptable to treat anyone the way she has been treated by Trumpian political operatives, then, to paraphrase a friend of mine, your moral compass, if you ever had one in the first place, is irretrievably broken, and you need to get yourself a new one.

I am glad the censure motion passed but disappointed that it did not pass unanimously. It is a sad day indeed when Congress, a body that I, like AOC, was once taught to hold in the highest regard, cannot even agree to protect the safety of its own members, when political disagreements are resolved, not in a spirit of civility and common unity, but with vicious attacks and diatribes, if not full on violence, and when such attacks, diatribes, and violence are defended, almost to a person, by one of America’s two political parties.

I take some consolation that, at least for now, a low bar has been set: it is not acceptable for members of Congress to even joke about murdering one another. That the bar is so low is enough to make one weep. I can only hope that this small step might be part of a longer journey to make decency, if not great, at least normal again.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

New Book Released!

I’m happy to announce that my book, The Challenger: Faith, Love, and Resistance in the Gospel of Mark is now available in both Kindle and Paperback versions on Amazon. Many of you have been reading a few advance posts from the book over the past year or so, now all of the Gospel entries are finished and complete in one volume. It can be read straight through, as a daily devotional, or simply used as a resource for bible study. I hope some of you will check out this ‘subversive commentary’ on Mark’s Gospel. And please, share the news! I believe this book will add to people’s understanding of Jesus’ message and call to challenge the status quo of our world. Just click the image below (or the link above) and you will be taken to my book’s page on amazon. Happy reading!

Conservatives Save Nation from Onslaught of Muppet Propaganda

Attention all Patriots and Lovers of Freedom!

Texas Senator Ted Cruz expressed outrage this week after Sesame Street’s Big Bird proudly tweeted (on twitter that is) about having received his Covid-19 inoculation, noting that his wing was sore, but it was worth it to keep himself and others healthy. The Senator responded with a tweet of his own labeling the over-sized fowl’s public service announcement ‘government propaganda for five-year-olds.’

Immediately, the forces of American conservativism sprang into action, backing Cruz and launching an immediate raid on the Children’s Television Workshop, long suspected of harboring radicals hell bent on indoctrinating children with left-wing values (such as sharing, caring, treating people who are different from you with kindness, singing the alphabet, and discovering which of four things is not like the other).

Said raid revealed that Big Bird’s tweet was merely the tip of the iceberg. The CTW had numerous shocking public service announcements in the works, several of which were stopped in the course of production. In one, Oscar the Grouch was to have pontificated on the upside of recycling in a song entitled, ‘How I Love [to Separate] Trash.’ Cookie Monster, who recently returned from a health spa for treatment after being diagnosed with advanced type II diabetes, had been rehearsing a speech to children on the benefits of moderation and healthy eating habits. Grover, dressed in classic ‘Super-Grover’ garb, was caught purple handed working on a monologue concerning the importance of wearing a helmet and other safety equipment when flying or crashing into solid objects. Snuffleupagus had a script for a piece against the ivory trade, and, most dastardly of all, Kermit the Frog was found filming a companion project on climate change and biodiversity, in which he planned to explain to children that it is in fact, despite his previous contention, quite easy being green.

Rest assured, honest Americans, each of these projects has been stopped in their tracks, thereby saving the nation’s children from a future marked by community responsibility, healthy eating habits, safety, and the sound stewardship of planet earth.

At a press conference today, Senator Cruz thanked his colleagues for their quick action. ‘Had we not acted when we did, who knows what else the CTW might have attempted? While they weren’t found at the studio, I shudder to think what Bert and Ernie might have been working on.’

Cruz and his colleagues plan to visit Nickelodeon Studios next, having received a tip that SpongeBob SquarePants might be up to no good.

Note: the first paragraph of this post is true. Click here for the story.

The Daily News

‘It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving it all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other, larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind’ – C.S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity

I blame the dang cell phone.

I wake up in the morning, shuffle downstairs to make breakfast, and there it is. I don’t know why it should be so enticing. But before I know it, as I wait for my eggbeaters to cook, I’m on it, fussing and fretting over the morning news feeds. On the one hand, it’s important to stay informed, especially in the dire times we live in. On the other, it’s probably not the best way to start the day. Especially since the daily news doesn’t seem to be anything particularly new. Basically, and as per the Book of Ecclesiastes, there isn’t much new under the sun these days. I can summarize the daily news as it has appeared for months, even years, as follows:

The Pandemic

Covid is still here. Many function as if it isn’t. People won’t get the vaccine or wear masks. The government response is very often incoherent. You are basically on your own.

Politics

Republican politicians and power brokers are working to end democracy because it behooves them to do so. They are willing to lie, cheat, shrug, etc., to hold onto power. They have no shame. (Yeah, there exceptions, but even these aren’t exactly profiles in courage, and so few they are scarcely worth mentioning). Oh yeah, and Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump…

Democratic politicians and power brokers can’t seem to understand that they have one job: to save democracy. Instead, they are fighting amongst themselves, fiddling while the torches that will burn society are lit. From the naive progressives who dream of the unattainable to the self-serving ‘moderates’ who seem to enjoy standing in the way of even a little progress, we see a party incapable of tying its own shoes. If you thought this ship of fools would save us, you had best think again.

Basically, the news of the day in the arena of politics comes down to this: ‘Autocracy! Coming to a country near you!’

The Environment

The earth is toast. Literally.

The Rich and Powerful

They are going to space, not paying taxes and unaccountable to anyone. They don’t care and there is nothing you can do about it.

Violence

The nations still rage. People still think violence is the answer to the world’s problems. An ‘eye for eye and tooth for tooth’ is making steady progress toward the creation of a blind and toothless world. Sorry Jesus. Sorry Gandhi. The world likes war.

Racial Injustice

White supremacy continues unabated in America. For all the talk of making things better, it’s getting worse. If democracy falters, look for the return of Jim Crow.

Truth

Just kidding. There is no such thing anymore. You are now free to believe anything you want, no matter how divorced from reality it is.

Entertainment

Some actor/singer/musician/influencer/sports personality just did something stupid. Another had a baby with someone else. Another got divorced. Someone else was arrested. Or gave money to charity. Or won an award and thanked Jesus. Oh, and whatever it is, it’s the most important thing in the world, far more important than ending the pandemic, saving democracy, stopping global warming, making a more peaceful world, ending racism, etc. BTW, who advanced on Dancing with the Stars last night?

White American Evangelicalism

A famous church leader who you should have known all along was no good has: (a) been caught in a scandal; (b) promoted Christian Nationalism; (c) said something racist; or (d) all of the above. Oh, and Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump Trump…

Sports

The Philadelphia [insert Eagles, Phillies, Union, Flyers…] let down their fans again last night.

Such is the daily news. Has been for months. Has been for years. And probably will be for months and years to come. Again, it is important to keep abreast of things. Many of the things I have summarized are as serious as a heart attack, and it does no good to stick one’s head in the sand and ignore the problems of the world. But at the same time, given that it isn’t really new, should we allow it to consume us? Should the daily news be the first thing we run to in the morning, or would we do better to run to something else?

I think C.S. Lewis was right. The first job of each morning, for everyone, but perhaps especially for Christians like myself, is not to immerse oneself in the news of the day, but to push back the noise of the world and listen to that other voice, that still small voice that counsels us to see things from another perspective, and to allow that larger, stronger, and quieter life of the Kingdom to flow into us. To stand back from all the world wants us fuss and fret about; to come out of the wind once more.

I think if I started my days like that, rather than riling myself up and only thereafter trying to listen to that other voice, I would be in a better position to face each day. I would be in a better position to take on the challenges of an increasingly daunting world.

So I think that’s what I’ll do. No more daily news first thing in the morning. And even throughout the day, I will do my best to keep abreast of things without letting them overwhelm me. Instead, I will begin by listening to that other voice, and let the Kingdom flow into me. And then, instead of driving myself nuts with what’s happening in the big picture world, I will simply practice my faith by doing small things in the circles of my little picture world that witness to another way. I bet that I will be better for it.

Maybe the world will be too.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

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