Death

A Sonic Meditation for Good Friday

The Bridegroom

That this day should be called “good” isn’t obvious or clear.  If this day is good it is not in the events commemorated, but in what God is doing, and the pulling aside the veil of the systems of power and domination.  But also,  it is that the events commemorated on this day don’t stand alone.  The goodness of this day is that liturgically we aren’t simply caught in death and oppression.  In fact later today, I will proclaim with many others in song and in reverencing a representation of the cross, that what the powerful and what the system of domination intended as death dealing is turned into, by God’s act and grace, something life giving.  Liturgically we live between horror and hope on this day.  What is good isn’t the violence dealt out, but God’s identification with humanity in defiance of that violence, exposing that empire and law are bound up in death.

The playlist opens with what the Maundy Thursday playlist ended. This reflects that the Three Days or Triduum is a continuous three day liturgy of Christ’s passion. The nervous energy becomes more subdued and focused.  A melancholy rejection of oppression, violence and the madness of the world. Of course at the center of this day is an  execution, and fittingly Nick Caves Mercy Seat sits at the center of the playlist.  Here, I chose a song that has the most direct and literal associations to the theme of this day.  The title of the song is a name for the cover of the Ark of the Covenant which sat in the Holy of Holies in the ancient Israelite temple. Since the Holy of Holies was only entered on the day of Atonement and only by the High Priest, the mercy seat is associated with the theology and ideas of atonement.  Cave has the voice of the person to be executed make not only specific allusions to Jesus’ crucifixion but even identifies his execution with that of Jesus.  In listening to it today I heard also, a reference to those “thieves” or “bandits” who were crucified with Jesus and the “thief” to whom Jesus’ says “This day you will be with me in paradise.”  The question of guilt or innocence has been abandoned by the one being executed and faces his death not unlike the “thief” who chides his compatriot saying that they, unlike Jesus, aren’t innocent.  Scholars are largely in agreement that those two theives or bandits were most likely Zealots or members of Jewish resistance who used violence and brigandage in their opposition and defiance of the Roman occupation.

From the point of execution and the defiance and acceptance of fate, we enter death.  Death is the reality we face on this day not in despondency (though for Jesus disciples, this moment was a deep confusion and darkness) but in anticipation. Even so, Jesus actually dies. Here is the death of God, this we can’t avoid.  We human beings, human systems of power and domination, killed God.  Thus, Today is also a day of repentance, of reflecting on the small and large ways take the side of Death, Empire, distorted religious power, and violence.  We repent because we know the love of Maundy Thursday and we know the end of the story. Yet, we also sit with the pain, the violence and our complicity with oppression and the degradation of others, whom God created and loves.  That is our sinfulness and our mad mad world. We face too that we will all face death.  What that death will be for us and what we will find in it, in part has to do with what we do with the tensions of Good Friday. Are we willing to sit within this space, or if we do we rush to triumph without pain.

There’s a heaviness as I finish listening. We are in a wilderness, from here (even though I know to expect the  dawn) the darkness overwhelms. The grief and pain of this mad world of ours washes over me and engulfs me.

What is difficulty of this day?

What did you hear in this playlist?  What are the resonances?

Are you lead to turn aside from certain things, to allow yourself to be transformed by the reality of this day and liturgical observance?

This is the second meditation in triptych.  The first is found here, a Sonic Meditation on Maundy Thursday. The third , a Sonic Meditation on Holy Saturday.

Mass on the Altar of the World

A Sonic Meditation for Maundy Thursday

What is Maundy Thursday?  The term comes from the Latin for commandment because according the Gospel of John at the Last Supper Jesus gives his disciples a new commandment, “Love one another, as I have loved you.” The command is symbolically and really shown in Jesus’ taking the position of a slave and washing the feet of those gathered for the meal in the upper room.  It is also, the day of the institution of the Eucharist.  It is also the day betrayal of Christ in the Garden by Judas, Jesus’ agony in the Garden, and the secret late night trial before the Sanhedrin.  Maundy Thursday; complex, chaotic, intimate, and political.

As I chose the songs for this playlist I attempted to keep the complexity and movement between intimacy and public exposure, the moment of calm but also the moments of chaos.  Personally I feel that what could fall under the umbrella of goth, dark alternative, or death rock, is well suited for the complexity of Maundy Thursday.  The playlist begins with love but an ambiguous troubled love.  If we are to hear Jesus’ command to love, we should also hear that it needs to be qualified. Love is many things, Jesus keeps us from any ambiguity through saying the command to love is connected to the way in which Jesus, and thus God incarnate as Jesus, loved.  Furthermore, in washing the feet of those at table Jesus makes concrete and symbolic what that love looks like.  So, we get a more intimate and positive, less conflicted moments of love. Here is where I find John Coltrane’s “Love supreme” in the mix. But, then back into the mix of emotions, conflicts, and ultimately betrayal.  This leads to facing violent death and the politics of death. There isn’t only a linear movement in the playlist, you can find betrayal articulated at the beginning as well as at the end.  As I listented to the playlist on Maundy Thursday, I was surprised by the degree of nervous energy in the playlist, even the moments of intimacy have an undertone of excitement and even anxiety. I hadn’t had that in mind when I put the playlist together the week before.

This isn’t a peaceful meditation.  Human failing is highlighted throughout, yet wiht hints, of something else, hins of the command ..” to love as I have loved you.”  But only hints

The above is what I heard as I listened to this playlist, as I finished preparation for Maundy Thursday worship.

What did you hear? What resonates with you?

How do you see Maundy Thursday and our commemoration of this moment in Jesus of Nazareth’s Passion?

The Bodies of (Saint) David Bowie

At some point after the news of David Bowie’s death,  across my social media streams came mention of sainthood for  David Bowie.  Dannielle Jenkins of Greaser Creatures while David Bowie was alive made these saint candles of Bowie (and other rock and film icons). 20160112_091621  It makes a certain sense, Sainthood claims not only that a particular person was of significance during the persons biological life but that said person can’t be summed up in their biological life and continues to live on and have effect in the world after biological death.

Jacques Derrida pointed out that when we are dealing with people we know through their body of work (artistic, philosophical, political, theological) there is as desire to connect up their historical and biological body with their body of work.  This is a difficult task.  While there is obvious coincidence of the biological body and the body of work under the same signature and name, each also has a life of its own.

One of the many things the philosopher Jacques Derrida wrote about was this relation between our biological existence, our projections of our selves, and death.  For Derrida death lurks in us, in our communication of our selves, in our attempts to gain access to the other. There is a difference between death and life and yet they’re intermingled.

For Derrida death lingers in the different bodies of an artist or philosopher.  We often want to make these bodies coincide.  Yet, there is a separation. Death shows this separation.  What we have of a philosopher or artist after death is their body of work, this survives death, but their biological body, their self aside from the image projected as philosopher, artist, theologian isn’t accessible to us (and wasn’t accessible in life to a degree these names and bodies are already dead to us even during the biological life).

Sainthood approaches these aporias and conundrums of image and images and multiple bodies attached to a name, by adding a body, the body that transcends or survives death beyond a body of work.  This body continues to interact with the world after the biological body has ceased to live.  This can involve miraculous events attached to the name of the saint, including revelations and visions of the saint.

But we can’t make all the bodies attached to a name neatly coincide, neither can we dismiss the connections, the overlap, and the coincidence of the bodies received under one signature and name.

David Bowie as a stage name hides from us one body, that of David Jones.  And yet the way in which David Jones’ biological  body is also David Bowie’s body and the way in which that shared body was part of the body of work signed David Bowie, there is already in David Bowie a certain transcendence of death even before the death of the biological body.  This is analogous to the ways in which the body of a Saint already shows signs of transcendence in their biological bodies.  David Bowie isn’t only already marked by death, but also marked by the transcendent body David Bowie.

Now David Bowie’s body of work is complete.  We now hear and see David Bowie differently.  We may even begin to wrestle with his darker side, things that we may not want to attach to the body of work and yet are part of the biological life and body of David Jones/Bowie.

Yet it is perhaps important to remember that the bodies of David Bowie are different while they overlap.  We can’t either ignore the difference between David Jones and David Bowie, nor can we ignore their coincidence.

What we have now access too, and only had access to as fans and aficionados of David Bowie is the body of his work of art, the story of which was told in David Bowie Is exhibition, and which we now have  as its capstone in Blackstar.

And I think we also have that body that transcends death in that David Bowie’s body of work because of the nature of that body transcends death, and continues to give us messages and encounters with David Bowie beyond the grave.

Although we have the body of David Bowie complete, we won’t be able to comprehend these bodies.  There will always be those things beyond our grasp.  David Bowie may have a transcendent body that we will only now discover as we carry with us the artistic corpus of David Bowie. However, unlike what is claimed of the saint, we will never have (and never did have) accessible to us the body of David Jones.  David Jones is lost to us, all we ever had and will ever have is the bodies of David Bowie, biological, artistic, and transcendent.

The Discomforting Joy of the Holy Nativity

Back in December as the refugee Crisis in the Middle East and Europe was in our  flight1                                  news cycles a meme went around that had a few iterations and said something like “if only there was a seasonal story about refugees” and one of the images used was images of the Holy Family’s flight to Egypt.

Peter Wehner  in his December 25th New Your times editorial speaks of the revolutionary aspects of the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, or more to the point of the belief that Jesus as the messiah was the incarnation of God. Wehner wishes to remind us that the Holy Nativity , god come to us in a human infant, transformed our understanding of humanity.  The belief in the incarnation gives value to the physical world and more importantly our humanity, that it didn’t have before that.  Wehner wants to remind us of this radical and revolutionary story, that we often domesticate and make innocuous and thus meaningless. miniature holy nativity

We seek the meaning of this season (though we tend not to think that this season extends from Advent to the Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the temple).  It is a well worn claim (and fuels some of the “war on Christmas” meme, that gets trotted out by certain media outlets) that much of our celebration of Christmas has little to do with the meaning of the Holy Nativity.  Here we might bemoan the consumerism of the season (especially leading up to Christmas day) or the ways in which the story is reduced to Kitsch, and there are innumerable innocuous and kitschy nativity sets around to back up this complaint. It’s interesting we seem to both be aware that what Christmas is for us culturally somehow misses he mark of its meaning even for Christians for whom it should make a profound difference in their views and actions in the world and oblivious that this is the case and carry on with those same celebrations.

I write this on the fifth day of Christmas of which there are twelve.  Even Christians who are aware of the twelve day season don’t pay attention to it much (as it gets lost in New Years celebrations) and then Epiphany/Baptism of Christ and the Presentation of Christ in the Temple are hardly kept in mind in our understanding of this season of the Nativity.

It’s hard to keep this all together. Also, if one looks too closely at  the Season of Christmas, the first 4 days are a buzz kill on our celebration.  First there’s the feast of Saint Stephen, and the story of his martyrdom as the first martyr (protomartyr).  We get a little break from all this with the Feast of St John the Evangelist, but with him we get his great mystical theology, and then the feast of Holy Innocents, infants and toddlers massacred by King Herod the Great for fear of the threat the Messiah born in Bethlehem would produce revolt and his overthrow .  With the feast of the Holy Innocents we are where we began this post and the flight into Egypt. For it was this threat from Herod that led the Holy family to flee.

The coming of God as a babe in the manger doesn’t only show us the value of our humanity it also in the midst of joy and celebration plunges us into the depth of human evil and suffering.  So, we are right to be reminded of the radical nature of this story, and how it challenges the comfortable and powerful.

Yet, perhaps we end up on the surface of this season, because we rush to its meaning and relevance.

The season of the Nativity and the Incarnation is long from the end of November to the 2nd of February the liturgical calendar invites us to contemplate God come to us as a human being, born of Mary.

The icon of the Nativity

holynativity

the  Holy Innocents/flight to Egypt

holy innocentsimage_flight_to_Egypt.jpg.960x

, Baptism of Christ

EpiphanyBaptism

and Presentation of Christ in the temple,

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All bear deep and continual  mediation and reflection.

Take the time this season to meditate upon these stories of God who tabernacle, set up tent, with us ,like God did with the Israelite’s as God brought them out of Egypt and slavery.  Allow yourself to be transformed by this contemplation.

The meme and Peter Wehner’s editorial point out that this story should make a difference.  It does, though a the moment we are seeing that like the infant Jesus most can miss that anything has changed at all, and so we continue even after millennia of celebrating Christ’s birth we still have yet to be changed by this new reality and we use it not to contemplate its great mystery but to hide from ourselves and the mixture that is our humanity.

Let the joy of this season transform you, let it be true joy. A joy that rejoices in an amazing revelation of God and our humanity that won’t allow us to lightly pass over the great evil that lurks in human being.

And indeed we may never finish fully exploring nor ever plumb the depths of this mystery of God become human and human being taken up into God. May we be transformed as we encounter and are moved to action by this mystery.

Baptism, Gun Control, and the Power of Death

What is my response as a member of the Body of Christ to gun violence?  Some fellow Christians know definitively what we should do, others know with equal assertion what isn’t the solution.  Are either informed, truly by the mind of Christ the crucified one, God Father Son and Holy Spirit.  Is my response to the question the state and its claimed monopoly on violence, so informed?  The more I sit with the horror of all the violence, what we consider legitimate (Police and military, the power of death wielded by the State) and what we consider illegitimate (the power of death wielded by non-state actors, those we call terrorists), I waver.  How do we end suffering?  Perhaps it is the best to let the state maintain its monopoly, and that will keep others safe, or at least limit suffering and death.  Can the State in wielding the power of death keep death at bay?  Maybe –  probably often, but what does that mean?  Am I, then, entrusting myself to the power of death for my own and others safety?

It is difficult to think well about such things as a White Christian (of whatever political or ideological stripe), in part I think because of the predominance of lynching, but also because we have implicitly or explicitly for the most part accepted certain types of violence as necessary for the maintenance of the secular public order that we also baptize.  Progressive White Christians want to impose a certain logic of violence upon us that continues to reserve the power of death to the state (as long as there isn’t an explicit death penalty) and demand the citizenry maintain a veneer of non-violence, partially enforced by restricting certain means of violence.  The Christian right wants to protect the constitution and a certain amendment of that constitution, and the right for Christians citizens to wield the power of death when necessary against aggressors and possibly against the state if it over reaches its bounds.  Both still bind up the Christian stance with violence, one restricts legitimate violence entirely to the State, the other wishes to extend the realm of legitimate violence to law-abiding citizens.

In this discussion the Bible is often used to shore up one’s opinion. Of course the Bible is full of violence, and even God makes use of violence and the power of death, to coerce and carry out certain ends (e.g. the Exodus from Egypt). My theological account will look to scriptures and God’s self-revelation but my beginning point won’t be the Bible and my position isn’t Biblical.  That way too lies a dead-end.

How then do we address our violence theologically and as a member of the Body of Christ?  Here I’m pulling punches, as I’ve, in that phrase, already countered a claim that the state may have upon my person as it’s citizen. I’m pointing us also to a liturgical rite.

This reflection begins at Baptism, and thus a renunciation as well as an affirmation.  A liturgical act and not the Bible is my beginning point. Of course Scripture and what God says about the act of baptism is what gives that act meaning.  Baptism takes us from one realm to another from one allegiance to another.  To be one with Christ is to renounce sin death and the devil.  Yet much of Christian history seems to contradict this as Christendom attempted to make room for death in the members of Christ that served the state (or were the state, as emperor or king).   We give little attention to a particular detail of the biography of the first Christian Emperor, Saint only became a member of the body of Christ until just before his death. He remained a catechumen his whole life, only receiving baptism upon his death bed.  This was a frowned upon but common practice at the time.  I’ve no proof of this, but I’ve wondered if that wasn’t a most honest move by Saint Constantine: As a baptized Christians he would have compromised the vows of his baptism had he wielded the power of death as the state.  These days we are well versed in the compromises of a legalized and imperial Christianity and how Christians have sought to find a meeting between the coercive power of the state and the Church, a name for that compromise is Christendom.

I mention all the above to point out that we shouldn’t be too confident of our conclusions.  Yet, at the same time there are hints that Baptism shows us that what we consider necessary for the maintenance of the state and of the common good isn’t readily compatible with being a member of Christ’s body the Church.

Where we begin makes all the difference. If we begin with the Bible, we can look to the formation of the people of Israel as they were delivered from bondage and Egypt and established in the land of Israel, and Biblically assume that a certain violence is legitimate and necessary.  But we won’t necessarily answer where the line of legitimate violence is drawn in a democracy like ours.  I’m arguing though that seeking Biblical sanction of legitimate violence isn’t seeking the mind of Christ, nor is it seeking the stance of one who is a member of Christ’s Body, through baptism.  My actions and thinking  in relation to the state and our democracy isn’t about my being a U.S. Citizen but only in my being a Baptized member of the body of Christ.  This is a radical claim.  However, I believe like the early Christians that the best citizen of the world and its states is one whose identity isn’t bound up with that state or nation but is entirely given over to Christ and the Holy Trinity, Father Son and Holy Spirit.

As one whose identity is Christ, whose body is claimed by the cross and the name Father Son and Holy spirit, I’m no longer beholden to the state and to the power of death and its logic.  While God, it is reported in the Scriptures, made use of the power of death and the logic of the state’s monopoly of that power, God’s ultimate revelation shows God’s own renunciation of that power.  God, Father Son and Holy Spirit in the incarnation of the Son in Jesus of Nazareth suffers the legitimate violence of the State, instead of  coming to wield that power.  This is the way of Christ and of the Church.

Thus, my response to our current debate over guns and gun violence is to say that as a member of Christ’s body one is no longer given over to the power of death but freed from the power of death.  Thus, neither defense of gun ownership nor shoring up the states monopoly of violence is the appropriate response or stance of the Church.  In some sense the Cross of Christ shows there’s no such thing as “legitimate” violence or wielding of the power of death.  Though, we may have to concede that to limit the destructive evil of those given over to the power of death, some may need to wield violence and the power of death, but in doing so one is in sin and in violation of one’s baptism ( this is my interpretation and application of Bonhoeffer’s reflection on the plot to assassinate Hitler; doing so was to participate in sin, but one took responsibility for that sin, as it would end a greater evil.  Though the  just end cant’t redeem the sinful act of taking a life).

As such as a citizen of Christ I’d urge, a simultaneous limiting of that state’s violence first in disarming the police while also removing military style weaponry from the possession of ordinary citizens.  Also, This would require a more Christ like culture of policing, one where the safety of the police officer isn’t paramount. Rather we would come to see policing as deeply self-sacrificial, even to the point of willingness to suffer death for the other and for peace on our streets.  This would be a radically different view of policing something that could hardly be viewed as simply a dangerous job.  It would need to be a true calling where one would enter it knowing one may not retire alive.  We wouldn’t train officers to self-protect, but to lay down their lives.  If the state was willing to limit its wielding of violence and the power of death, then so should its citizenry.  I would work with my fellow Christians progressive and conservative towards such a limit of the power of death in our world.

Death and the Romantic Rock-n-Roller

A musician with whom I’m unfamiliar (Lana Del Rey)  had some romantic thoughts about the suicide and early deaths of Rock and Pop icons, like Kurt Cobain.  She said in the interview (though she says she was tricked into saying it by the interviewer) “I wish I was dead already.”  Since the comment was in part a response to questions about the suicide of Kurt Cobain, Frances Bean Cobain weighed in, saying there was nothing romantic about an early death and her growing up without her father.

I get Frances Bean’s point.  Kurt’s suicide in and of itself is tragic.  And yet, it’s hard to separate this final act from the music of Kurt Cobain and Nirvana.  If Cobain hadn’t been tormented in the way he was and which lead to his suicide would Nirvana have been what it was?  It isn’t cause and effect but I also can’t completely disentangle all those threads from each other.

I have reflected on this in a reflection on how joy and suffering are interwoven in the work Ian Curtis of  Joy Division.

What ever lead Ian and Kurt to commit suicide was also woven in with their music.  For Kurt and Ian the beauty of their music, is bound up in their brief life and their death, it’s part of their genius.  Not to say that all great art or music must come out of that mental and spiritual place.  However, Ian Curtis, Kurt Cobain, Rozz Williams, all tormented, all committed suicide, all have music that speaks to me in away other music even in the same genre doesn’t.

Not sure what to make of that.  Yet, I can’t deny that my love for the music and their quality as artists and musicians, even my reverence for them is bound up in their early demise, and due to that they lived the line from that Neil Young song “… Better off to burn out then to fade away.”

Whether or not it is a “correct” or acceptable sentiment, I can understand how a musician (or any artist) may say “I wish I was dead already.”

Death brings about the moment when the artist is complete, summed up.   In the case of the likes of Cobain, Rozz Williams, and Ian Curtis the brief moment of their musical output continues to reverberate and have power, in part due to the brevity and thus the intensity of their output.  Part of that power and resonance is bound up in their early death and that they committed suicide.  It’s powerful, and there’s a simplicity to that artistic output.

Admittedly this is disturbing.  This is not something to be emulated (but are artists, particularly Rock musicians role models?) These are people carried along by something with in them that drives them to create.  There is a torment in this.

One might say that an artist longs for death, longs for that moment when they will have their body of work, complete and unchanging… finished.  That is an artist longs to “know” what one’s body of work is.  One is only known in this sense in death.

Certainly, this isn’t the only way of being known.  All the same none of us are complete or settled until we die.  So, it makes sense to say “I wish I was dead already.”  This expresses a desire to know and be known in completion and the fullness of the body of ones work.  To achieve greatness in a brief moment is an astounding achievement.  That a brief life has other more mundane and tragic ramifications is also true, but that truth doesn’t deny this other truth and its power.

So, yes, there is something romantic and powerful about artists who produce with such intensity and torment that they willfully burn out quickly, it’s also true that such brevity tragically tears at the human fabric of their lives.  

However, we are mistaken if we think the long lived musician or artist escapes death, or that prolonged life is a life without death.  There are ways to live towards death that are rich and aren’t also a death wish, but pretending their isn’t power and truth in the body of work defined by an artist’s brief and tormented life isn’t the way to find such a path.  Rather I’d say accepting the  death woven into their work already is a way to begin to find life that comes from death.

 I find Cobain, Curtis, and Williams to be romantic figures, and their suicides are part of that romance.  But it is because their death was already in their life, and because it is as much in their death as in their life that we know their beauty.

 

Christians Embrace Death and the Particularity and Physicality Of the Gospel

We Christians are anxious about the state of our institutions.  We at the same time want to believe someone has the fix.  So, we make pronouncements.  A number of people including Tony Jones and Brian McLaren have suggested that we are seeing possible end of denominations, others are talking about the decline of particular denominations (such as the Episcopal Church) or groups of denominations (the Mainline), or maybe even the whole kit and caboodle Christianity itself, or even more astounding the Church, is dead or dying.

The reasons given for this  demise are myriad, but they do coalesce around an anxiety that we aren’t or haven’t allowed the Spirit to move and that we are trapped in the institutional and the historical/material manifestations of our faith.  This it seems to me wishing to blame our having bodies, that is those real, actual, physical, architectural manifestations, that aren’t the s{S}pirit.  In a sense what I hear in our anxieties and the various remedies for our demise is the claim that we  are not our bodies.   Which is strange to me.

In college I read Souls and Bodies, a novel about the loss and retention of faith.  As I read it the novels contention was that it was precisely the “spiritual” obsession that denied our bodies that was the reason for the flight from religion.  The characters in the novel longed for cathedral and body to agree in spirituality.    Architecture, institution, body all are spiritual, the crack in our systems of faith and theology is when we dismember ourselves, when our cosmos no longer is imbued with the spiritual.    Religion and faith that can’t bring together body soul and spirit, leave us with corpses and pointless souls wandering in an amorphous and dreary world.  That is at least my impression of the novel 20 years on.  Whether or not it was the author’s intent it is what I took from it, and it spurred me to seek a faith that had form, architecture, institution, and body.

I wonder if our problem is that we are still seeking some essence, some inner spirit that can be decanted into any container.  If this is so then i say we are shrinking from the particularity of God and the church.   It is my conclusion that with all our love for “incarnational” theology we find the actual incarnation of God, in a Jew 2000 years ago, to be a little embarrassing, and possibly just a bit out of date.  We don’t want our future our “destiny” to be tied to that Jew, Jesus of Nazareth, whom we know so little about.  We’d rather create a Jesus in our own image, rather than be confined by a Jew who gathered 12 other Jews around him and sent them out into the world to proclaim the reign of God established by a violent and embarrassing death.

We embrace with difficulty that God is now forever human because, God is forever a 1st century Palestinian Jew who was raised from the dead and is seated on the right hand of God.  We also embrace with difficulty that from the moment of the incarnation God has been gathering together a new humanity through union with this one person jesus of Nazareth, through baptism and eating and drinking bread and wine.

American Christianity (liberal or conservative) tends to  prefer a more generic and American triumphalist universalism.   Actually following a crucified Jewish peasant from the first century Palestine is a bit of lunacy.   Doing so isn’t the way to win friends and influence people, its not guaranteed to gain you access the halls of power to influence the power brokers and leaders of the (free) world.  In fact that Jewish peasant tells us we aren’t suppose to seek power and influence and access, but God’s justice and righteousness first.  The problem for both liberal and conservative Christians is that we believe that justice and transformation of society can only come from in the very least having access to and influence over the power brokers.

Should we be surprised that people may find this all a little too incredible.  Should we be surprised that since Christianity has had access to the power centers for so long and yet used that access not to be open to God’s kingdom but to replace God’s kingdom with our vision of freedom and democracy (liberal or conservative), that people will walk away.  Who needs Christianity if it is simply a version of secular ideologies.  Our universalism our reductions of Christianity to principles, or morals or to social justice, leave no need for a Palestinian 1st century Jew.  Or to make this Jew relevant we ask people to believe something even more incredible, that said Jesus of Nazareth was simply an 21st century populist democrat, or  we ask people to believe in a being that died just so you could accept him into your heart and go on your merry way without a care for the world.

We need to embrace it all.  The messiness, the imperfect way Christians are the body of Christ, and the Jewishness of our God.  The particularity of our material existence is the universal spirituality of Christian faith.  We need architecture, we need art, we need what Christ instituted both sacraments and the historical continuity of  the temple that God is building us into.

We will come to know what reflects this holistic particular universal faith not by reductions and seeking the essential nature of the Spirit, but by seeing that the God who became a Jew a little over 2000 years ago is the God of all, who embraces all, and instituted the Church and is building a temple, which is the new humanity.  Such a vision perhaps simply isn’t compatible with the vision of our age.  In part though that is our fault for we have been proclaiming something else, we have lost who we are, we have sought release from our bodies, so that we could have universal spirit that could appeal to everyone.  This is our demise, this is our death. We are the dry bones and we are finding if we are honest that there is no life outside our body.  Mortal can these bones live?  Lord only you know.   May we prophesy that the spirit return to our dried out wasted away bodies.  May God return to us the flesh we have abandoned.  Our bones can witness to the life of God, but we must prophesy to the breath, and accept our particularity, our mortality.

 

Listening to Wisdom of the Silent Tomb

Today is Holy Saturday, I generally try to let the silence of this day settle in.  We wait on this day.  It is the last day of the Lenten fast.  Any who have been fasting are probably weary of it by now.  We have come to the end.

There is  a deathly silence to this day.  Silence and listening are more than not using words.

Today, many people are running about their business with no attention to Jesus Christ in the tomb.   Many Christian traditions do nothing with this day.

The second reading for Vigils in the Benedictine prayer is an ancient sermon by an anonymous preacher (well we apparently don’t know who preached it.) This preacher reminds us that the day Jesus was in the tomb is the sabbath.  Death has many meanings, it also means rest.  The body of Jesus of Nazareth rests in the grave on the Sabbath.

Silence can also be restful. Grief, loss, death, rest, silence.  Are we listening?

A friend points out how we often struggle to keep these three days together, this  the boundary between Lent and Easter.  Easter can overwhelm us into a search for certainty.

Easter is about triumph, and we can forget the means of that triumph. “By Death Christ beat down Death.” The way of the Cross is the path of Resurrection.

So thanks to the Anglobaptist.  On this Holy Saturday I’m wondering if  the ways in which we seek justice and righteousness and the conflicts surrounding that search are so rancorous among and between us Christians because of our forgetfulness, that is a misunderstanding,  of Resurrection.

We think Resurrection is about certainties or we think it’s about metaphor and principles.  We forget that our sense of certainty and rectitude isn’t the point.

Even after the Resurrection the silence of the tomb speaks to us.  It should in the least remind us that, whatever our positions, whatever our beliefs about justice and righteousness, God come in human form, and who then dies is simply unsettling.  Resurrection doesn’t settle anything, but it unsettles everything.  The wisdom to know what to do after the displacement of Resurrection, comes from a bowl towel and feet, and the silence of the tomb.