Wednesday, March 19, 2003

Sometimes the right sermon finds voice at the right time. Such was the case last Sunday at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church in Glen Ellyn, IL, courtesy of Ekklesia member Rev. Matthew Gunter. With the forces of invasion massing as I write this introduction, Matt’s sermon should be circulated to churches across the country — it’s that good, and that necessary.

Matthew Gunter St. Barnabas, Lent 2, Year B, 3/16/03 Genesis 22:1-14, Psalm 16:5-11, Romans 8:31-39, Mark 8:31-38

In the year 390, Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, sent a letter to one of his parishioners. Ambrose was convinced that this parishioner had committed a grievous and public sin. In his letter, Ambrose told the parishioner that until he repented publicly he would not be allowed to receive Communion. Ambrose had excommunicated him. But this was no ordinary church member. It was Theodosius, emperor of the Roman Empire. It seems one of Theodosius’ officials had been murdered in the Greek city of Thessalonica. The exact circumstances are unclear. Perhaps it was a tax revolt. Perhaps it was a random terrorist attack. In any event, Theodosius had done what emperors always do. He sent in the army to teach the people of Thessalonica, and by extension the rest of the empire, a lesson. Some 7,000 people – men, women, and children – were killed, the vast majority of whom had had nothing to do with the death of the official. Ambrose was not a pacifist, but he knew that the emperor’s actions needed to be condemned even if it meant the very real possibility of being sent to prison or killed. Emperors don’t usually like to be challenged. Against all odds, Emperor Theodosius repented and publicly sought absolution from his bishop.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Ambrose and Theodosius lately. What would Ambrose say about the looming invasion of Iraq? Would it make any difference? Christian leaders around the world and the leaders of nearly every Christian denomination in America have stated that this war does not meet the standards of a just war. The Pope has declared the same. But it does not seem to matter.

Some of these leaders can perhaps be written off as the religious lackeys of the left – people who would reflexively oppose any use of force by America. But, not all of them. The current Pope has never been accused of being a liberal lackey. Nor is Miroslav Volf, an evangelical theologian on the faculty of Yale. There are others who cannot be so easily written off.

There are some theologians have argued that a preemptive war on Iraq is justifiable. One has to wonder though if the religious lackeys of the left don’t have their parallel among some conservatives who have never seen a war waged by their own country that they could not justify. Did Theodosius have any theologians around to reassure him that his use of force was necessary and justified for the good order of the Empire? “You can’t run an empire after all without a little collateral damage.” One problem I have with the just war theory is that in practice it is too elastic. It can be stretched, and has been, to support every war this nation and others have waged. Too often, the just war theory has become merely the “excuse war theory.”

I have referred in passing to the pending war in sermons a couple times recently but have been hesitant to address it directly. One reason for that hesitancy is that the texts have not seemed to naturally lend themselves to addressing the issue of Iraq. I do not want to do violence to the scriptures just so I can preach against violence. Another reason for my hesitancy is that I, like you have heard too many sermons where the pulpit was used as a platform for the preacher’s political prejudices rather than a proclamation of the gospel. I am wary of doing the same. I have also been hesitant because I am all too aware that I am no Ambrose. And you are not Theodosius. None of us here this morning has any control over the decision to attack Iraq. And, to be perfectly honest, I have been hesitant to address the topic directly because I don’t particularly like controversy. But, this morning’s text and the urgency of the situation lead me to wade into the thicket.

Jesus said: “If any want to be my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” I want to explore with you this question, what does it mean to take up the cross in a time of war? There has been lots of public talk about God recently; some of it by the president, some of it by those who oppose him. But talk about God is cheap and all too often self-serving. I am convinced that any talk about God without the cross tends to be either insipid or dangerous. There have been plenty of examples of both lately.

What does it mean to take up the cross in a time of war? I have said before that I am persuaded that the way of the cross means a commitment to peace. It is harder to get around Jesus’ nonviolence and that of his earliest followers than some want to suggest. But, any talk of peace must not avoid the reality of sin and death. Talk of peace that implies that if we are just nice to others they will be nice to us is not the way of the cross. It is simply naïve and insipid. Any serious talk of nonviolence must recognize that it is a call to martyrdom. My own, certainly, but more problematically, the martyrdom of others who I might otherwise intervene to help. Being resolutely nonviolent does not mean doing nothing, but to totally avoid having blood on my hands in a world of violence, sin and death means being prepared to stand by while others bleed. That is not an easy way. But, I am not convinced that it is not the way of the cross.

There is no avoiding the hard fact that, whether we commit to nonviolence are to the “judicious” use of violence, we are all stretched out between the catastrophe we have made of the world and the promise of God’s good creation and his kingdom. But what if nonviolence is not the only faithful posture for Christians? I am catholic enough to recognize that the majority wisdom of the Church has believed that it is not. I take that seriously. But even then we must ask, what does it mean to take up the cross in a time of war? Another problem with the just war approach as it is usually presented is that it does not ask this question seriously enough. I have serious reservations about a moral system in which the particulars of Jesus’ teaching, life, and cross are essentially irrelevant. Hindus, Moslems, and agnostics could all support the classic just war approach. What does it have to do with Jesus and the cross?

If we decide that sometimes we cannot avoid participating in violence, we still have to make that decision in light of the cross and of Jesus. What does the way of the cross look like then? This way must also be understood as a way of martyrdom, but not first and foremost in the obvious sense that some are going to die in a war. That is true, but we must accept the way of the cross as first of all dying to ourselves and following Jesus. Among other things that means:

1) Taking up the cross in a time of war means getting our loyalties straight. I saw a woman wearing a t-shirt last summer that I found very troubling and very telling. It was a white t-shirt that had JESUSAVES written across the front. I believe he does. But that was not the only message on the shirt. It actually looked more like this: JESUSAVES. All the letters were blue except for those in the middle – USA – which were red. It was a telling icon of the confused syncretism of many Christians in America. Who saves? Jesus? The USA? Or, are the two so entwined that we can’t tell the difference? We cannot begin to discern whether war in general or this war in particular is justifiable until we can tell the difference between the way of Jesus and the way of the United States. The way of the cross means dying to, and being suspect of, all other loyalties. If talk of just war just means that it is OK for Christians to kill when their government says so, it is not the way of the cross.

2) Taking up the cross in a time of war means the way of humility. It means being prepared to entertain the possibility that we are wrong. It means asking, why does most of the rest of the world disagree with us? Even those governments that support the United States’ invasion of Iraq do so against the will of the overwhelming majority of their people. Right and wrong are not determined by majority vote. But, it is arrogant to presume that everyone else is automatically wrong because they don’t see it our way. If it is America’s fate to be the de facto empire of the world, it will make a big difference how we live that out. The way of the cross means we cannot lord it over others. We have not been doing a very good job of it lately. Because the United States has been seen as lording it over others, we have remarkably managed to loose a public relations contest with a thug and tyrant like Saddam Hussein and alienated much of the world. Humility means listening to those who disagree with us, not derisively dismissing them so we can ignore their concerns.

We might not need U.N. approval to go to war. The just war approach allows that any nation has the right, on its own authority, to defend itself when attacked. But, Iraq has not attacked us and it is not clear that it is able to. If, however, we are going to war to enforce U.N. resolutions, it would seem the proper authority resides in the body that passed the resolutions. What does it mean to enforce the will of others against their will? What if Egypt and Syria decide on their own to enforce the U.N.’s resolutions condemning Israeli settlements on the West Bank? I do not think we would find that to our liking. We apparently haven’t run out of patience there. Humility means we must be careful of the precedents we set just because we can.

3) Taking up the cross in a time of war means we must recognize our own sin. It is a Lenten theme. It is a Christian theme. Much of the rest of the world looks to America as an example, a beacon of hope, liberty, and prosperity. But it is also suspect of our power and of our motives. We need to deny ourselves the indulgence of self-justification and recognize that this is neither accidental nor simply a matter of colossal misunderstanding. There are reasons many in the world do not trust us. I am very concerned that as a result of this war and our behavior leading up to it we will be living with the deep resentment of much of the rest of the world for a long time. And we will only be less safe and secure for it.

Recognizing our sin means we need to be suspicious of our own motives. Can it be that every country that opposes war with Iraq has mixed motives, but the United States does not? Do we really believe that we are the only ones who are realistic about the dangers of the world? Do we really believe that we the only ones who have courage? We need to take the reality and pervasiveness of sin more seriously than that.

4) Taking up the cross in a time of war means repentance. We need be prepared to repent of sins we commit as individuals and as a nation. And if sometimes we decide we must resort to violence, we need to repent for that violence. Some have suggested that the classic just war approach does not presume that violence is wrong. I do not know if that is true. If it is the just war theory needs to be rethought in light of Jesus and the cross. Killing some people for the sake of other people is always a devil’s bargain – even if we decide it is the only bargain we can make. St. Basil of Caesarea who was a contemporary of Ambrose’ said that though the church had decided that sometimes we must resort to war, when we do so we should repent and those who participate should do penance, enduring a time of exclusion from the sacrament. That is the position still of the Eastern Orthodox Church which is not pacifist, but has never accepted the theory that for Christians war can be just or pleasing to God.

Lent is about taking up the cross, denying ourselves, and following Jesus. It includes denying our tendency toward self-justification – as individuals, as a church, and as a nation. It means dying to other loyalties. It means humility. It means acknowledging our own sinfulness. It means repentance. It is a way of martyrdom. If any want to be my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow.

I can’t say whether, if he were here, Ambrose would oppose war with Iraq. What disturbs me more is that for many Christians in America – it wouldn’t matter.

Michael Budde, 8:48 PM

Wednesday, February 26, 2003

More Than Protest

For whatever reason, the relationship between sports and national identity has always been a close one. Attend any sporting event and one will witness the invocation of the nation’s blessings. Whether it is a pre-game fly-over by Air Force fighter jets at an NFL contest, or the playing of the national anthem at a high school basketball game, the connection between sport and nation is unmistakable.

Occasionally athletes resist the nationalistic rites preceeding their games, and the latest to grab national headlines is Toni Smith. Ms. Smith, a senior at Manhattanville University (NY), plays forward on the women’s basketball team. Offended by “the inequities that are embedded into the American system” and the looming threat of a U.S. military attack on Iraq, all season Ms. Smith has physically turned away from the U.S. flag during the playing of the national anthem. Although generally supported by her teammates and the University president, according to a recent Sports Illustrated article Ms. Smith has been the subject of numerous protests herself. When her team played the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy earlier this month, “more than 300 flag-waving midshipmen greeted Smith with chants of ‘USA’ and ‘Leave our country.'”

Some, like Nashville Tennessean sports editor Joe Biddle, acknowledge Ms. Smith’s right to protest the potential war in Iraq, but concludes “That doesn’t mean you protest the national anthem. You don’t dishonor the flag and what it represents. . . . If everyone thought like Smith, we might be under German or Japanese rule today.” After all, Biddle asserts, the flag and anthem represent American rights and freedoms. Americans enjoy the right to choose “Where to live. Where to shop. Where to work. Where to worship, or not worship.”

Admittedly, Biddle is a sports writer and not a political philosopher or theologian, but he articulates a widely held American attitude. In this country you may have the First Amendment right to protest discrete actions of “our” country, but that does not give you the right to question the fundamental goodness of America. Such disloyalty is the unpardonable civic sin.

Confronted by similar circumstances in April 1948, detractors warned Dorothy Day that she had a constitutionally guaranteed right to protest universal military training, but she could not question America itself. In a Catholic Worker editorial Day responded, “We are against war because it is contrary to the spirit of Jesus Christ, and the only thing is that we abide in His spirit. It is more important than being American, more important than being respectable, more important than obedience to the State. It is the only thing that matters.” Anticipating the reaction her thesis would evoke she rhetorically asked, “What would we advocate?” “Wholesale disloyalty to Americanism,” Day answered.

For Dorothy Day the issue was neither her constitutionally-guaranteed First Amendment right to protest, nor the wisdom of a specific American policy. The issue went much deeper. Day’s Christian commitment compelled her to make a principled decision to be “un-American.” Perhaps her example can remind us of the ultimate purposes behind our protest. Richard Goode, 9:01 AM

Monday, February 24, 2003

The following editorial recently appeared in the Nashville Tennessean.

JESUS DOESN’T MATTER Fr. Charles Strobel

These thoughts are directed to Christians everywhere and with respect for other religions and for non-believers. Although many people still object, the United States is poised for war on Iraq. I am among those who are not applauding President Bush’s persistent attempts to marshal Congressional and popular support for this invasion.

My reason is a religious one. It is based upon what I believe is the essence of Jesus. I have listened to many of the reasons people give for going to war. I believe everyone is sincere, and their reasons may be valid for them. But not for me.

For me, they all suggest Jesus doesn’t matter. America matters but Jesus doesn’t matter. Homeland security matters, but Jesus doesn’t. Economics matter, but Jesus doesn’t. Revenge matters, oil matters, possessions matter, Wall Street matters, future generations matter, but Jesus doesn’t. Military defense expenditures matter, Saddam Hussein matters, the Axis of Evil matters, weapons of mass destruction matter, chemical weapons matter. Not Jesus.

Religion matters, personal salvation matters, God’s words that “vengeance is mine” matter, St. Paul matters, St. Augustine’s just war theory matters, Christianity matters. Jesus doesn’t matter. This last rationale-the religious one-works to affirm that God-or human ideas of God-sometimes endorses war. But Jesus doesn’t. Never.

In the preponderance of scriptural evidence, Jesus says, “Put away the sword.” Biblical texts portray Jesus repeatedly speaking words of forgiveness and reconciliation. They range from “love your enemy” to “turn the other cheek” to “make peace with your brother” to “your sins are forgiven” to “this is my body given for the forgiveness of sins” to “Father, forgive them.” Jesus goes through life forgiving people of their sins. He announces good news to all, especially the poor. He surrenders non-violently to capital punishment, although he is an innocent victim.

But what Jesus said and what Jesus did is somehow lost amid all the talk of war. Paul, Augustine and later Christian tradition have modified his witness. 1) Paul: A recent sermon by a prominent local pastor quoted St. Paul (Romans 13) as saying people should obey legitimate authority because it is “established by God.” Could this be a plea for us Christians to support President Bush (established authority) when he calls our nation to war? We may draw that conclusion from St. Paul but not from Jesus. 2) Augustine: After the Emperor Constantine’s conversion in 313 established Christianity as the religion of the Roman Empire, he gave “churches” the right to own private property. With this ownership came the need to justify defending that property, giving cause for Augustine to borrow from the Greeks the notion of a just war theory. Since that time, justifiable self-defense has become a legitimate Christian response. Augustine may have offered that concept, but Jesus didn’t. 3) Christian Tradition: Add the Crusades and a theology to support preemptive strikes for moral purposes (reclaiming the Holy Land), and Jesus has been converted from a non-violent pacifist to a defender of violence, either in self-defense or preemptively. Years of Christian tradition may have appeared to justify that concept, but Jesus didn’t.

So today people have a lot of reasons for going to war that seem to matter. Even organized Christianity has its share. When I read and hear these and other reasons, they don’t matter to me, because they ignore Jesus. I believe Jesus matters. I believe his way of life is one way to peace in our lifetime and for all time.

And if universal peace matters, then so must Jesus. Richard Goode, 7:36 AM

Monday, February 10, 2003

When Detroit singer/songwriter Jan Krist recorded her song “Curious” in the mid-1990’s, she intended it, she said, “for the kids stationed in Kuwait and Kosovo, and for my kids, too.” Some of those “kids” later Emailed Krist from the Middle East, thanking her. As many more sons and daughters are mobilized to the Kuwaiti desert, here are the words to “Curious” in its entirety:

Curious

If we go to foreign soil to beat down the dogs of war Does that protect our homes from anything Sniffing around our doors?

And if we send our sons and daughters off to fight our wars Is there anything left home worth fighting for? And if all our good intentions simply pave the road to hell Are the parking lots there paved by apathetic souls as well? I’m curious

When politics and policy spawn rebellion and strife Why is this nativity stolen by a fascist midwife? Time in, time out again

And when we narrow down the global vision to just me and you How is it that the politics of power And the power of love get so confused? They get so confused

Okay, so everybody simply wants to be loved, well alright So why are our relationships riddled with Vindictiveness and spite? What if love came naturally and I’m not talking about lust What if mercy were a river – would it rise up and swallow us? Come and swallow us

But instead we spend our mercy like we’ve got too many debts And we are brutally unkind with no visible regret And I think that innocence is raped The soul is stripped of its immunity

And if we send our sons and daughters off to fight our wars Is there anything left home worth fighting for?

Jan Krist Copyright Studio Blue Music (ASCAP)

Recurrent themes of woundedness, mercy, love and grace mark Krist’s lyrics, while her clear, soaring voice negotiates a variety of musical styles. “Curious” can be heard in MP3 and RA formats from the folks at Paste Music. If you draw strength from thoughtful contemporary music, Jan Krist is a name worth knowing.

(Paste Music carries a number of such artists and groups, including Brooks Williams, Pierce Pettis, Over the Rhine, Peter Mayer, and Steve Earle, whose song, “John Walker’s Blues,” was labeled “unpatriotic” and “treasonous” on national talk radio. The reader – and listener – can decide whether this constitutes a condemnation or endorsement.)

Brian Volck, 1:09 PM

There are some sermons that need no introduction whatsoever…..

Go to Baghdad

January 26, 2003/Year B, Ordinary 3

Jonah 1-4

Once upon a time, God spoke to Jonah, a member of a Presbyterian church in a small southern city. “Go to Baghdad,” said the Lord, “and preach hell, fire and damnation; for I have received a report about Saddam Hussein and how wicked he is.”

But Jonah went to his travel agent, and bought a plane ticket to Seattle. There he boarded a cruise ship bound for the Alaskan glaciers, as far away from Baghdad (and God) as you can get on this planet.

But the Lord struck the cruise ship with the Norwalk virus. The passengers and the crew became violently ill. There was vomiting. There was cramping. There was diarrhea. There was severe intestinal pain. And the passengers and crew cried out. Some ransacked their luggage and said, “God, why didn’t I bring my Tums with me?” Others cried out, “Lord have mercy, if I ever get back to dry land alive I’m going straight to my lawyer and sue these people for ruining my vacation!” Each cried to his/her own god.

But Jonah was asleep in his cabin, deep in the bowels of the cruise ship. The captain found Jonah and said, “How is it that everyone is violently ill except you? I know what you’re up to! You’re one of those Moslem terrorists! You’ve poisoned everyone, haven’t you?”

“No,” said Jonah. “I’m not a Moslem, and I’m not a terrorist. I’m a Christian. I worship God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and Jesus Christ his only Son, our Lord. But I’m not a very good Christian.”

Jonah wasn’t a very good Christian, but he was a good enough Presbyterian to know that there’s no such thing as coincidences. Disaster on the heels of disobedience meant that God had caught up with him. It became clear to Jonah that if he were going to evade this God who was stalking him, then he had only one choice: Jonah made his way to the Promenade Deck, and hurled himself over the rail.

Suddenly everyone began to feel much better. No more nausea, no more diarrhea, no more cramping. But the perceptive ones on board noticed that the timing of their healing coincided with the apparent suicide of one of the passengers, and they were afraid, and wondered what it all meant.

Meanwhile Jonah, sinking to the bottom of the cold Pacific Ocean, was swallowed whole by a humpback whale. There, in the belly of the great sea creature, Jonah sang songs of deliverance:

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind, but now I see.

After three days of that caterwauling, the whale vomited Jonah up on the seashore.

Again God spoke to Jonah, “Get up, go to Baghdad, that great city on the Euphrates River, and preach hell, fire and damnation.” So Jonah called his travel agent and bought more plane tickets. Seattle to New York. New York to Paris. Paris to Istanbul, and Istanbul to Baghdad.

Jonah walked around suburban Baghdad wearing a sandwich board with the words, “The End Is Near” printed on it, in Arabic. And the people of the city believed God; they fasted, even though Ramadan was already over, and everyone, children, teenagers and adults, dressed in all black.

When the news reached Saddam Hussein in one of his presidential palaces, he rose from his chair in the boardroom, changed out of his suit into a black bathrobe, and sobbed for several hours.

Then he had his press secretary issue this announcement: “By the decree of President Saddam Hussein, no human being or animal, shall taste anything. We shall all abstain from food and drink. We shall all, humans and animals alike, wear mourning clothes and everyone is to proceed immediately to the nearest mosque to pray to God. All shall turn from their evil ways and repent of the violent deeds we have done with our hands. Who knows? God may relent and change his mind; maybe, just maybe we can extinguish God’s fiery anger and not get killed.”

The government brought out from hiding all its weapons of mass destruction, and the U.N. destroyed them. Saddam ordered that all the instruments of torture in his many prisons be broken, melted down or otherwise disabled. The people fasted. No one fed the dogs or goldfish or livestock.

When God saw this, how the entire society from the top to bottom renounced violence, wickedness and the like, God changed his mind about the calamity that God was about to bring upon Iraq, and God didn’t do it.

Jonah was fit to be tied. He complained to the Lord in this way:

“This is exactly what I knew was going to happen. I knew you wouldn’t go through with it. Didn’t I tell you that way back in Salisbury? This is why I took that cruise to begin with; because I knew that you wouldn’t give him what he deserved. I knew that I’d wind up looking like a liar and a fool if I did this. They make a pretext of piety, and you just forgive them? After what they’ve done? ‘God so loved the world.’ Hah! I’d rather die than serve a God like you!”

And God replied, “Testy, testy. You need a course in anger management.”

Jonah rented a car and drove to Kuwait. He checked into a hotel and turned on the TV to CNN to see what would happen to Baghdad. But there was no cruise missile attack, no invasion, not even an earthquake or similar natural disaster to level the city.

It was a hot day in Kuwait City, and the air conditioner in Jonah’s room purred softly. Jonah ordered margaritas from room service and wiled away the hours, TV remote in one hand, cool drink in the other, and he managed to forget his embarrassment and anger. Then the air conditioner unit conked out. Jonah threw the remote against the wall and exclaimed, “I’d rather be dead than sit in a hellhole like this!”

But God said to Jonah, “What right have you to be mad about that air conditioner?” Jonah replied, “What right? I paid $120.00 for this room and this worthless piece of equipment! I’ve got every right!” Then God said, “You are worried about the air conditioner, a hunk of aluminum and wiring. An inanimate object built by people whom you do not know. Well then, shouldn’t I be worried about Baghdad, a city of five million people, and who knows how many dogs, cats, goldfish and livestock, who don’t know which end is up?”

A question: What’s the biggest miracle in the book of Jonah–that Jonah got swallowed by a whale and lived to tell about it, or that the King of Assyria repented, and God forgave him?

This sermon was preached by Rev. Marvin Lindsay at John Calvin Presbyterian Church in Salisbury, NC on January 26, 2003. Michael Budde, 11:58 PM

Calling Down Fire

Matt Gunter Diocese of Chicago Clergy Conference, October 21, 2002 Luke 9:51-62

When the days drew near for Jesus to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But he turned and rebuked them. Then they went on to another village.

As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

The relentless love affair of God with Israel and the rest of humanity was about to reach its climax. Jesus had set his face to go to Jerusalem. Along the way, he was rejected by a Samaritan village. The disciples, James and John, those “sons of thunder,” were indignant. They asked Jesus, “Do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” After all, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do to those who refuse hospitality to the Lord? Isn’t that what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah? (Genesis 19: 23 – 24) And didn’t Elijah call down fire on the soldiers of the king? (2 Kings 1:9 – 12)

Jesus turned and rebuked them. Some ancient manuscripts have Jesus adding, “You do not know of what spirit you are.” It’s as if he was saying, “Have you not been paying attention? That is not my way.”

You can imagine James and John, stung by the rebuke, saying to themselves, “We were only trying to help. What’s the fun of hanging out with a prophet, let alone the Messiah, the Son of God, if you don’t get to do the really cool stuff?

“How about we just send in a couple a couple of she-bears?” (2 Kings 2:23 – 24)

“No!”

“Can we at least shrivel their privates? You know, there is this rumor about you as a kid . . .” (cf. some versions of the Infancy Gospel of Thomas)

“No! No, no, NO!”

Poor James and John. They were only trying to stick up for and defend what they believed was most important. In that regard they were not that different from the average suicide bomber. Suicide bombers believe, as did those who hijacked the planes on Sept. 11, that what they are doing is on behalf of God. And why not kill and die for God? God is the ultimate good, the ultimate purpose. If you are going to kill and be killed, what else would be worth it?

Is it better to kill and die for something less than God? For Patriotism? For Justice? Religious violence cannot compete with the death and destruction, torture and terror done in the name of either of those two ideals over that last couple of centuries. And plenty of violence, direct and indirect, has been done in the name of other lesser goods such as race and profit.

God can, of course, be drafted to support killing and dying in the name of something less than God. You can call down fire on others in the name of God. Especially if you’re not particular about the God in whose name you call down fire. And that’s where it becomes problematic for Christians. Moslems, Jews and Hindus can account for their own traditions. But, for Christians who claim Jesus to be the particular and ultimate revelation of God, violence will always be difficult to justify. Jesus refused to call down fire.

For us to kill, whether in the name of God, or justice, or neighbor-love, or any other abstraction divorced from the particular life and teaching of Jesus is a refusal to follow the way of the Crucified One. He is the one who refused to call down fire. He is the one who commanded us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us. As 1 Peter reminds us, “For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps . . . When he was abused; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but entrusted himself to the one who judges justly.” (1 Peter 2:21, 23) The real scandal of particularity is that Christians have not been particular enough in following Jesus who we claim as the way.

Christians have been good about claiming Jesus as the way – as long as he doesn’t get in the way. We have been good about claiming Jesus as the way – as long as we don’t get too specific about the way that Jesus is. The answer to that is not to stop claiming Jesus as the way; but to get serious about the way that Jesus is.

Jesus refused to call down fire. But, in the next chapter of Luke, he warned Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum that they would be judged for rejecting him. In the parallel passage in Matthew, Jesus warns that their fate will resemble that of Sodom and Gomorrah. Judgment will come to those who stubbornly refuse the way of Jesus. But however that judgment comes and whatever it looks like, it is God’s to execute. Again and again in the New Testament we are warned against passing judgment and that judgment is God’s prerogative. Paul, for example in his letter to the believers in Rome, wrote, “Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.'” (Romans 12:19) An important part of imitating Jesus is realizing that we are not God. Only God gets to call down the fire.

Only God gets to pass the ultimate judgment. When we pass the ultimate judgment on other human beings and execute it, we are trespassing on God’s prerogative – whether we use suicide bombs . . . or smart bombs. It is presumption that borders on blasphemy. God is the judge. God is the one who gets to execute.

It might or might not be possible to be absolutely non-violent in a world as full of injustice and violence as is ours. Christians have found it difficult in the past. Bonhoeffer’s decision to take part in the plot to kill Hitler is a famous example. But, Bonhoeffer never claimed that he was doing anything other than giving into, and participating in, the evil around him. Jesus refused to call down fire. Let’s not pretend that we are following Jesus when we choose otherwise. Or that the violence we resort to is somehow justified and legitimate rather than giving into and participating in evil.

In John Chrysostom’s writing, On The Priesthood, he refers to Elijah calling down fire in contest with the priests of Baal. He contends that while that was impressive, when a Christian priest presides at the Eucharist, he [and she] calls down the Holy Spirit. Do we know of what spirit we are? Let us call down the fire of the Holy Spirit.

If we claim Jesus as the way, we should seek to live his way. If it is God ‘s prerogative to judge, we should be wary of calling down fire – especially preemptively. Better to let the dead bury the dead. And set our hands to the plow…. Michael Budde, 10:41 PM

It’s not often that a sermon starts with a discussion of what looks like fashion tips, but John Nugent isn’t a typical preacher. A professor at Great Lakes Christian College in Lansing, MI, John manages to find the threads that link the particulars of everyday life to the great dramas of Scripture. He does so in a particuarly intriguing way in “The Enduring Value of a Homogeneous Textile Reminder,” a sermon better experienced than described. You are invited to experience it for yourself here.

The Enduring Value of a Homogeneous Textile Reminder

John Nugent Great Lakes Christian College

[The introduction is excluded due to its situation-specific nature. Basically, I began by listing various foolish things a new instructor should avoid doing his first year but that I painfully had done. This list culminated in my decision to deliver my first chapel sermon on an obscure passage from the book of Leviticus.]

Frankly I’m not sure why Leviticus gets such a bad rap. It doesn’t have a genaeology, it doesn’t give numbered lists, and it doesn’t use cryptic language that requires codes to break. Granted there are a few stomach turning verses about infections skin disease, mildew removal, and purification after childbirth; nevertheless Leviticus is a great book.

Sadly Leviticus neglect is common both academic and ecclesial settings. I am suggesting today, however, that Leviticus teaches what may be the most important lesson that churches in America must learn if we hope to avoid degenerating into irrelevant social clubs or impotent props for someone else ‘s social or political agendas. It is a lesson often overlooked because Christians typically assume that whatever value Leviticus may have had for its original audience, it surely has none today. After all doesn’t Hebrews teach us that Jesus did away with all that? Now is not the time for me to refute such ill-informed claims. Instead I hope to demonstrate that the passage in Leviticus that many Christians write off as the least relevant statement in Scripture actually conveys an ecclesial truth of utmost importance-a truth that churches overlook today only to our peril. Hear the word of God from Leviticus 19:19:

You shall not let your animals breed with a different kind; you shall not sow your field with two kinds of seed; nor shall you put on a garment made of two different materials.

This morning I want to focus your attention on that last prohibition: “nor shall you put on a garment made of two different materials.” In other words – no rayon chenille, no acrylic cotton blend, and certainly no polyester. Now I am sure that they are out there somewhere, but I’ve never met Christians who refuse to wear mixed cloth. Surely this passage must be irrelevant. God cannot expect to dictate our wardrobe, can he? Somewhere, we surmise, Jesus must have negated this teaching. But he hasn’t; and neither has his death on the cross somehow trumped this practice as it has certain sacrificial rituals. Then perhaps it was a scribal mistake, a later addition, or some other convenient textual anomaly. But there it appears again in Deuteronomy 22:11. No – this passage will not go away easily and so we must try to understand it.

An instructive way to begin is to understand this law’s place among Torah as a whole. Listen to how God prepared Israel to receive his laws. Exodus 19:5-6 reads:

If you obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession out of all the peoples. Indeed, the whole earth is mine, but you shall be for me a priestly kingdom and a holy nation.

What did he mean by priestly kingdom? We understand well enough what a priest is; but a kingdom of priests? Does it mean that everyone in Israel will serve in the tabernacle? No. Rather the nation as a whole was intended to function in a way similar to priests. Israel was chosen to serve as mediator between God and the nations. But how? For starters, they must be a holy or set apart nation. Like the priests whom God appointed within Israel, there must be a discernable difference between God’s people and others. There must a degree of critical distance that allows the nations to see what Israel actually has to offer.

We all have experiences where we were too close to a situation or that it was so immediate in our minds that we could not grasp the fullness of what was happening. We needed to step back, create some space and through the distance we saw things as they truly were. And so it was between Israel and the nations. God wanted to show off Israel to its neighbors. He wanted to whip her into prime torahformed condition and to use her witness to woo the nations to himself. But Israel sadly wanted little of that. She preferred to be just like the nations. She chose to worship the way they did, crown a king like they did, control her own destiny like they did theirs. And her failure to be different rendered her witness dull. She became saltless salt and lightless light. Too close to the nations to be seen as a viable alternative.

Israel’s call to be distinct actually frames the pericope of Leviticus wherein lies the prohibition against mixed cloth. Listen to excerpts from the beginning and end of chapters 18-20:

You shall not do as they do in the land of Egypt, where you lived, and you shall not do as they do in the land of Canaan, to which I am bringing you. You shall not follow their statutes. My ordinances you shall observe and my statutes you shall keep.I am the LORD your God.

And then in chapter 20:

You must not live according to the customs of the nations I am going to drive out before you.I am the LORD your God, who has set you apart from the nations.You are to be holy to me because I, the LORD, am holy, and I have set you apart from the nations to be my own.

So why must Israel avoid wearing mixed cloth? Because God was reminding his people daily that his ability to use them as a vehicle of blessing to the nations required concrete discernable points of difference from them. But this is not difference for difference’s sake. They were to live the life of Torah. They were to follow the divinely ordained rules that had power to give them abundant life, and this not for their sake alone-but precisely for the nations. Moses says of Israel’s laws in Deuteronomy 4:

You must observe them diligently, for this will show your wisdom and discernment to the peoples, who, when they hear all these statutes, will say, “Surely this great nation is a wise and discerning people!” For what other great nation has a god so near to it as the LORD our God is whenever we call to him? And what other great nation has statutes and ordinances as just as this entire law that I am setting before you today?

This sounds strikingly familiar to what Jesus said in the sermon on the mount: In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven (Mt 5:16).

Israel was not to wear two kinds of cloth for the same reason Israel was not to breed two kinds of animals, for the same reason Israel was not to sow two kinds of seed in the same field. Things that don’t belong together should not be mixed together. And if Israel was to position herself as a blessing to the nations she needed to maintain a critical distance lest she lose the prophetic/priestly edge that her life was created to be.

But hasn’t Christ changed this? Didn’t the cross bridge the gaps that divide believers from nonbelievers? Not according to the NT. In Jn 17 (vss. 14-19) Christ says that his followers are not of the world but are sent into it as ones who are sanctified. In 2 Cor 6 (vss. 14-18) Paul cautions us not to be yoked with unbelievers, but to come out and be separate from them. According to James 1 (vs. 27) pure religion entails keeping oneself unstained by the world. Later James warns his readers that friendship with the world is enmity with God and that whoever wishes to befriend the world becomes God’s enemy. First Peter ties these themes together with Israel’s OT witness by referring to Christians as exiles, aliens and strangers in the world – but also identifying us as a priestly kingdom and a holy nation, called to be holy as God is holy. So while the cross of Christ has removed all barriers between believers, our cruciformed life sets us apart from those who do not believe.

What makes this set-apartness such a critical issue for today’s church? For starters, the church in America exists in a critical state of transition. We now realize that the idea of a Christian-American merger is not going to happen. Society refuses to support our causes and promote our values. The gears of commerce no longer screech to a halt each Sunday. School teachers no longer avoid scientific or sexual discussions that disturb our children. The ten commandments are stripped from the walls and prayer likewise from the classroom. A graphic example of this is the recent Saturday Night Live skit mocking the Veggie Tales. Now realize, I am no big fan of Veggie Tales whose suave marketing practices have profited from the gospel in a ways second only to the Left Behind series. Nor do I endorse Saturday Night Live, a show I used to watch but now refuse to because its crudeness is simply not funny anymore. However, a friend raised my awareness to this recent spoof because of its sick portrayal of Christian faith. I will not go into all the details, but imagine Bob, Larry, and company – now called the Religetables – reading pornographic material, killing infidels during the crusades, hanging innocent witches in Salem, damning people to hell, molesting young children, and brutalizing the masses during Armageddon, all the while singing pious songs with their cute veggie voices.

Now this warped depiction of faith might be a little humorous if this wasn ‘t precisely the image many have of Christian faith. It is exactly how an unbelieving friend narrated the Christian legacy to me a year ago. Indeed Christianity is waning in popularity and, frankly, most Christians have no clue how to respond. Many are tempted to do so by catering to the wants and wishes of our unbelievers. We strategize to create churches that meet people ‘s felt needs, rather than boldly proclaim that our feelings betray us and that what we truly need is something quite different. With our finger to the wind and our ear to the polls – we’re feeling for clues as to what the lost want church to be. We are tempted like Israel to secure our identity and improve our standing on the world’s terms.

Let me suggest today at least three specific ways our generation is tempted to mix cloth, that is to blur the distance between us and the world.

The first way is through patriotism or nationalism. By this I do not mean being people who seek the good of the lands in which we live; we are called to do that. What we must avoid, however, is being people whose identities are wrapped up in the nation states in which we live. Jeremiah 29 illustrates this point. When Israel was exiled to Babylon, Jeremiah encouraged the exiles to make themselves at home-to buy houses, settle down, and seek the welfare of the people of the land. But Israel never forgot that they did this from the vantage point of exiles. They considered themselves aliens in the land because the Persian prince was not their king – Yahweh was. The agenda of the prince would not endure, Yahweh’s would. They understood that the best way for them to seek the good of the land was to remain faithful Jews who lived as an out-of-place people in Persia. And so it is with us. The most significant way Christians can seek the good of the lands in which we now live is to remember that we are resident aliens-living in the land, but not as one’s bound to the fate of fellow residents.

The good news entails our being incorporated into a trans-territorial people. We were baptized into a brotherhood and sisterhood with people of every nation across the globe. We are more tightly bound to believing Bedouin boys in Pakistan than we are to nonChristians who live next door. So we dare not cling to national ties. According to St. Peter, we dare not fear what they fear. Which must mean, among other things, that for Christians September 11 did not change the course of world history. Our Lord Jesus changed the course of world history when he died on the cross praying “father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” According to the Apostle Paul (2 Cor 10), we dare not wage war as they do. But refusal to wage war is not very patriotic; yet their battle is not ours to fight. Indeed God has given the sword to the state, not to the church. In large part the reason Israel never positioned itself as a witness to the nations was because Israel was too busy killing them in order to defend its national borders. But thanks be to God through Jesus Christ, we no longer need to defend national borders. We have become aliens who can reside and survive among any nation. Our citizenship is directed from heaven and our king reigns over all the earth, over every continent, over all who seek first his kingdom.

It is interesting to note that though Israel was appointed to live in the land of Canaan, they were never referred to as Canaanites or even Israelite Canaanites. Put differently, all who were circumcised into Israel had clothed themselves with Yahweh. There was neither Jewacains nor Canajews, Jewanites nor Isranites, Isracanes nor Canraels. This is no small statement, especially for those who pride themselves on being American Christians. I wish I could stand here and tell you exactly where the lines between church and state should be drawn, but I cannot. It seems that theses lines are constantly in flux depending on the specific situation. The state is not a monolithic entity and there are thus certain aspects we want to affirm and others we wish to challenge. But a necessary step in the right direction is to acknowledge the such lines exist.

A second way we are temped to mix cloth is by adopting what Peter Berger refers to as the ‘heretical imperative.’ We do this when we buy into the basic cultural framework of pluralism, which makes the conscience of the individual the final bar of approval. You see, the word ‘heretic’ in Greek meant to make a decision as an individual over-against the group. So when we reject the consensus of the group and leave everything to the individual to decide; we have, in essence, become a culture of heretics. Heresy in this traditional sense has become the way of life that permeates our culture and one that Christians have made little effort to resist.

Now I am certainly not advocating that we follow the consensus of our culture. What I am saying is that when we were baptized into Christ, we were baptized into a people who are no respecters of individual opinion. Our Lord has taught us that there are right and wrong ways of living as his people and these ways are not subject to individual preference. Certainly Christians operate within a considerable degree of freedom and the churches are right who affirm “in nonessentials liberty”; but Christians today have taken liberty to a whole new level. We tolerate opinions about whether Christians need to be members of churches. We tolerate opinions over whether believers ought to actively minister among the poor. We tolerate opinions about the taking of life and the permissiveness of extramarital sexual activity (as if there was such thing).

In short, we are raising generations of Christians who think Church is the place to which one comes to hear teachings that one may take or leave as one sees fit. Such is not the church of Matthew 18 – a church that actively confronts sin in the life of believers and has the audacity to say to one another: “We know what is right, you refuse to do it, you cannot be part of us since you insist on doing only what is right in your own eyes.” Sure we can narrate our different opinions in terms of a beautiful mosaic tapestry, but our disunity is sapping the strength of our witness and degrading into a subtle form of heresy.

A final way we mix cloth is by retaining the world’s upside down view of reality. In his teaching, living, and disciple-making, Jesus made it abundantly clear that the world has misconstrued reality. The world thinks that might makes right, that numbers constitute significance, that coercion is the key to consensus, that the first shall be first, that the rich are better off than the poor, that superior retaliation is the way to defeat evil, that those with the most education should make decisions for us, that effectiveness is measurable by careful calculation, that efficiency is the key to productivity, that the ungifted should be marginalized from the spotlight, that eloquence is required for public voice, that suffering is a waste of time, that the 99 are more important than the one, that washing feet and polishing shoes are what the lowly among us do. But the world is wrong.

Yet for some reason we take our cues from them. We do this by judging the success of ministers and ministries by the number of people attracted to their gatherings. We do this by mocking fellow students whose questions or answers in class are not as sophisticated as ours. We do this by rating the spirituality of others by outward signs of religiosity during worship. We do this by judging freshmen to be inherently immature or intellectually inferior. We do this by leaving trash on the ground outside our dorms waiting for someone else to pick up.

In step with the world, we thereby identify Jesus as having an upside down worldview. How backward were his teachings, we claim, how reversed his way of doing things. Could it be, however, that it is we who have turned things around. Does not Jesus, through whom creation itself was wired, have a better grip on reality than us? While his way of life may be against the grain of both our culture and preferred ways of living, Jesus is directly in line with the grain of the universe. And he intends to order our lives according to the nature of his in-breaking kingdom. The way of life to which he has called his church is the destiny of all creation. It is the way things are becoming and they way they forever will be.

This raises an important point about Christian difference. God has not called us to be simply “not like everyone else.” And every generation who wrestles with these issues is tempted toward the opposite extreme – to define our identity in terms opposite to our neighbors. Rather we are called to be in the world “as Jesus was in the world.” We are called to walk in his steps and follow his example. Israel was called to be different because the Egyptians and Canaanites were so unlike Yahweh. Israel was to be holy and Yahweh was their standard. Those who dwell on not being like others only end up becoming their mirror image or filmstrip negative, created nonetheless in their opponents’ image.

Israel was not forbidden to mix cloth simply because their neighbors wore mixed cloth. Israel wore one cloth to remind them daily that they were not their neighbors, so that they may become God’s witnesses to their neighbors; and so it is with us. And therein lies the enduring value of a homogeneous textile reminder. How will you remember?

[What readers miss that the original audience should not have, though a majority did, was that my excessively uniform suit coloration was not simply a matter of poor fashion sense.]

Michael Budde, 10:27 PM