Turn, Turn, Turn

All this I observed as I tried my best to understand all that's going on in this world.

As long as men and women have the power to hurt each other, this is the way it is.

-Ecclesiastes 8:9 (The Message)

We all learned, somewhere back in primary school, that the thing that "caused" the first World War (naively called the war to end all wars) was the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria in the Serbian city of Sarajevo. It was taught, as I remember, in that sort of blase oversimplified fashion that is indicative of grade school history classes.  You're not supposed to think too much about it, just accept it.  What started WWI? The assassination of Franz Ferdinand.  You don't need to know anything about who he was or why his death would be so important, and certainly not why he was assassinated. But if you would like to know, here's a Wikipedia entry that pretty well sums it up.

That was a long time ago, and the world was a very different place, but then again, there really is not much new under the sun.  There are still lots of people in Eastern Europe and Asia Minor that really don't get along all that well.  Remember Kosovo?  A lot of people my age who were in the military in their 20's certainly do. It would seem though that we have a peculiar forgetfulness about the past, and it seems to me that it might be getting dangerous as the circles of violence start to loop around on each other.

Why is it important that a Russian Ambassador just got gunned down in Ankara?  A lot of Americans don't even know where Ankara is and we've got other things about Russians on our mind right now. The web of socio-political entanglements is jiggling and the spider is getting hungry.  I know what you think, I'm about to make a case for Vlad Putin being the spider, and that is tempting, but I'm actually not going there. The spider in this analogy is actually the spirit of violence that feeds on our wars and conflagrations.

Putin and Erdogan (Turkey's current pseudo-despot) are actually some of the more predictable players on the stage right now.  We know what they want: power, we know when they want it: as soon as possible and we know how much they want: all of it.  Once you have someone's motivations sussed out that completely they're not really as dangerous as they seem.

What is more dangerous in this arena is the unknown, particularly that part of the unknown that we think we know, but in which our understanding has proven, time and time again to be demonstrably flawed. We have made the mistake of assuming things to be basically "Western," we have failed to account for the actual role that Islam plays, and we have broadly generalized far too often.  The world of the Middle East is far more complicated than our post colonial visions with neat borders and clear alliances generally account for. We have been assuming far too much about some of the other pieces on the board.

The United States and the Soviets have been playing this game for a long time and I don't think it's wrong to say that we're still at it, even though the Soviet Union is no more.  Vlad Putin was, is and always will be a man formed by the Soviet bloc.  His ideas and ideals all have in mind Russian hegemony over their part of the world.  He will tolerate other governments until they become a stumbling block.  The Central Asian Republics in the former Soviet Union are impoverished and backwards and he is probably more than satisfied to be shuck of them.  Ukraine, Belarus, and suchlike though... well, he probably wants them back.  Turkey would be a jewel in the crown of some sort of Russian sphere of influence (another good old Cold War idea).

Syria becomes a useful tool in bringing Turkey into the fold.  Putin and Erdogan have been at odds in the past about Assad and Syria, but recently they have been growing closer, as it has become clearer that there really isn't a better option for the stability of the region than Assad's Alawite regime, brutal though it may be.  The US is a bit shell shocked when it comes to toppling dictators, our recent past is not so shiny.  But if Russia and Turkey agree on Syria, there's not a lot anyone else can do about it.

However, if the X-factors can get the those two tenuous allies back at each other, who knows?

I'm not saying that someone actually planned to assassinate the Russian Ambassador for that reason, but it wouldn't be a bad plan if you're trying to keep the whole mess floating on a sea of chaos.

In the wake of the shooting, John Kerry sent the ubiquitous American "thoughts and prayers," to the people injured and the families of the deceased.  I kind of hope for a change that we just keep it at that, because the spider is hungry.

Hateful

I hope by now you know what Aleppo was, a city in Syria, an ancient city, at one time a bustling and beautiful city.  It's not that any more, now it's a pile of rubble and the site of an on-going failure of our common humanity.  Not a war, not a rebellion, a travesty against our dignity as a species.  I hate what is happening in Aleppo right now.  As I grow older I am trying to reserve the word hate for very special occasions.  I used to hate a lot of things.  I used to hate certain kinds of food, and lots of kinds of music, none of that really deserved my hate. What is going on in Aleppo right now is worthy of hate.
I hate that the situation has seemed so inevitable and unsolvable.  I hate that the only thing anyone living in our comfortable, stable world can think to do is to throw some money at the problem.  If you can, you should give somewhere, some how, but that doesn't get us off the hook.  By us, I mean all of humanity.  We should be capable of doing better than this.  The failure of our potential is what I really hate.  This kind of thing doesn't happen because of the madness of individuals, we have lived with comic book villains and Darth Vader a little too long.  This is not about Bashar al Assad, or Vlad Putin or a violent mastermind, this happens because we, collectively, allow it to happen.  We feel powerless, we feel like it's just too big of a problem, we feel like we don't understand well enough what causes catastrophes like Syria to erupt into horror.
But we do, we absolutely know.  There are only a few things in the world that cause all of this sort of vileness.  It is the vicious, self-maintaining cycle of money, power and violence that is at the heart of all of our problems, everything else is secondary or tertiary.  Greed leads some to take more than their share, and leave others without enough.  Hunger, poverty and insecurity ensue and those who suffer eventually threaten, with the power of numbers and desperation, to rise up and demand something more.  Power then becomes necessary to "defend" those who have become accustomed to their privilege and comfort.  Power uses violence to accomplish its ends.  If the violence can be simply through some combination of political ideology, religious conditioning, suppression of dissent, or the maintenance of some sort of detente based on the threat of physical violence, maybe you can have some sort of peace.  Eventually though, the threats must be shown to be real, or the hungry bellies will rise up and demand a reckoning.  Then the demons come out to play, as they have been in Syria and Iraq.
Don't pretend you don't know what causes this.  Also, don't pretend you don't know the antivenom. We have lived with the prescription for this problem for so long, it's absolutely staring us in the face.  It is the foundation of the Law, the Prophets and the Gospel, it is the antidote for the toxic cycle of greed, power and violence.  You know what the Lord requires: "Do justice, Love Mercy and walk humbly with your God," that's how the Hebrew Prophet Micah says it.  Jesus says: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind and with all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself."  Paul, building on Jesus' foundation says he will show us "a more excellent way:" Faith, Hope and Love (the greatest is love).  Love that counteracts the greed and pushes us towards kindness and charity (an expansive and gracious spirit, not just gifts of pity) to others, hope that shows us what real power really is and faith that will help us refrain from reacting violently when we feel threatened.
I'm not suggesting that the solution is for everyone to become Christians (or any other religion for that matter), that won't solve it.  This stuff happens among those who profess faith of some sort as much, if not more, than among the godless. I'm suggesting that we know the solution to the problem, we just have decided not to pay it any mind.  That's what I really hate.  It's like we have the directions neatly tucked away in our pocket as we rage and ruin what we would be able to build if we just followed the plan.
I'm tired of the hand wringing and the futile lamentation that always follows such catastrophes.  We have been told how to solve the problem, but for a myriad of reasons, which we delude ourselves into believing are beyond our ability, we keep running on the hamster wheel of power, violence and greed, and we keep repeating the same tragic mistakes over and over again.
So go ahead, give to the charity, put the bandaids on the wounds, mourn the tragedy, and then go right back into the stupid, blind and hateful cycles of all those things that we tell ourselves can't be changed.  As long as we keep telling ourselves how unavoidable it all is, we are pretty much guaranteed that it will never end.

The Cat's In the Cradle

A child arrived just the other day, 

Came into the world in the usual way,

-Harry Chapin, The Cat's in the Cradle

Thirteen years ago this week, Michele and I were waiting for an arrival.  In the most realistic re-enactment of Advent ever.  We were expecting our first child, a boy, to be named Jackson.  We had decided that Michele's former last name would make a pretty good first name, and we did not yet realize that Jackson or Jaxson was going to be one of the more trendy names for celebrities and regular people alike for the next few years.

The waiting seemed endless, probably more so for Michele than it was for me, but it was excruciating for me, all other information is speculation.  The first child is a mixture of hope, expectation and abject terror.  You prepare, you wait, you try to talk yourself into the idea that you are somehow grown-up enough to be a parent, and mostly you don't succeed. Then, all of the sudden, you have this little pink thing that cries a lot and needs you for everything. Life takes a hold and you start working your way through the milestones: walking, talking, potty training, going off to school.  Everything seems to absorb big chunks of your life.

Older, wiser people, like to sort of laugh at you and tell you to treasure the time you have because it goes by awfully fast.  You're not quite sure what they're talking about, until you blink and that little baby is about to turn into a teenager, complete with an often frustrating mind of his own and a voice that is probably about to drop an octave just about any day.  You realize that you're only five years away from sending an 18 year old out into the world of college and proto-adulthood.  He will be starting to drive in a mere three years, and that is both existentially and emotionally terrifying.

How did this happen?  How were all those "it's going to fly by" people so cussedly correct?  What business do I have trying to parent a teenager?  I seriously feel like I was just a teenager myself not terribly long ago.

If you can put away that sort of hand wringing for a minute, you notice that these little babies you used to know everything about are becoming actual people, and that's not a bad thing.  They have the ability to surprise you and frustrate you and make you awfully proud sometimes.  You worry more about them than you probably ever worried about yourself, and you sort of like the idea that they are going to go on into the future and live out this cycle for themselves.

Kahlil Gibran says this in The Prophet:

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."

And he said: "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.  They come through you, but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love, but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies, but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The Archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite and He bends you with His might that his arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the Archer's hand be for gladness; for even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

I'm about to have a teenager.  I would really like to be a stable bow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Comfort of Being Sad

Warning: If you want Christmas to be super-happy-fun-time, do not bother reading this blog.
If you have trouble Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree however, you might want to keep going.

If you look at the historical reasons why we celebrate Christmas at the end of December, you will probably notice that it actually has a lot to do with the true genius of Christendom: the ability to absorb the practices and rituals of pagans.  As Christian faith moved out of the warm, soft light of the Mediterranean basin and into the harder, colder lands of northern Europe, it encountered a midwinter ritual, complete with feasts, evergreens and the exchange of gifts.  It was a way to stave off the gloom that comes with the long hours of darkness and the cold that afflicts northern latitudes in December.  The tone of these midwinter feasts and festivals matched the tone of the Gospel stories of Jesus' birth quite well.  The birth of Christ lends itself to hope that holds on in the dark and threatening times. The prophecies that were applied to "prepare the way," are well suited to people facing the austerity of northern winters. The silence of winter gives us time to think on the passing of time, the nature of mortality, and makes us perhaps more receptive to a message of hope in new life, resurrection even.
The reason why I think so many people engage, year after year, in grumpy rages about some sort of "war on Christmas," or getting outraged by people saying, "Happy Holidays," or whatever Starbucks has done with their coffee cups this holiday, is that our corporate celebration of this holiday has lost its foundation.  And I'm actually going to posit that this is bigger than just people forgetting about the whole Jesus being born aspect of the equation.  That's important for Christians to be sure, but I think the secularization of this holiday has become so radical that it's not even about "keeping Christ in Christmas."
It has become so commercial that I think even agnostic observances have lost their solemn dignity and their ability to brace the soul with a celebration of dormancy and rest. Christmas carols have always tended to point us in the direction of poor theology and perhaps even incoherence, but peppy Christmas songs are an abomination. They are the soundtrack of trivializing a moment in the yearly cycle of human existence that ought to be hallowed by pagan and Christian alike.
Those who grieve during the holidays see this rather painfully.  The first Christmas after a death of someone you loved is a particular sort of torture, as may be many holidays to come, depending on the circumstances of your bereavement.  The worst thing for someone who is in the grip of sadness and loss is to be constantly reminded of how happy they're supposed to be.
The peculiar thing about the Gospel narratives of Jesus' birth, is that they are absolutely laced with moments of sadness and have a decidedly precarious feeling. Mary is found to be pregnant out of wedlock, Joseph plans to "put her aside quietly," Herod rages against the possibility that a king might have been born and children are killed, Mary has a lot to "ponder in her heart," both hopeful and tragic.  These are not all happy stories.  Winter is not always a happy time.  There are good things that come with it, but there will always be those who do not make it through, there is a suspense to it.
If you are happy at Christmas, I warned you not to read this, you can forget this and go sing Jingle Bells to your heart's content, but I know that a lot of you out there can't exactly feel the Christmas joy the way you think you should, and so this is permission for some different kinds of feelings.  Know that if you are solemn and aware of the preciousness and the temporary nature of life, if you are aware of the passing of things and seasons, if you sense that all is not right with the world as it is now, you are perhaps more in the "true spirit" of Christmas than you realize.

A Reed Shaken by The Wind

You will not be able to stay home brother.

You will not be able to tune in, turn on and cop out.

Because the revolution will not be televised.

-Gil Scott Heron, The Revolution will not be Televised.

Probably my favorite part of Advent is getting to spend at least a week with John the Baptist, in year A of the Revised Common Lectionary, we get two gospel readings from Matthew relating to the wild man in the wilderness, except this week he's in prison, and he sends word to Jesus, asking if Jesus is the one for whom he and all of the world is waiting.  I've got a whole sermon ready to go about that, but as is sometimes the case, there's more than I can probably fit into a reasonable sermon, and it's pageant week so only about 20 people are going to hear it at our small early service.  But it's an important moment, and, for me at least, a powerful and freeing moment.
See, I have felt very much imprisoned lately, (you may have noticed if you've been reading this blog) trapped by the angst of our world, all the nasty things that have polluted our common discourse, all the things I would rather not explain to my children about the Herods and Caesars who run this world.  I want Jesus to make it all better, preferably in some big-bang-flash moment of apocalyptic glory.  I want to go back to the days in the wilderness, sometimes that means the Camino, the clarity and the simplicity of simply putting one foot in front of the other.  But other times the wilderness is more of a frame of mind, a place where I can shout with certainty that the Kingdom of Heaven has drawn near and tell people to repent.  I would very much like to be that Prophet, standing waist deep in the Jordan crick and calling the wealthy, powerful and influential, a brood of vipers.
But lately I feel like I'm in prison, now I feel powerless.  I do not feel empowered to hope in the kingdom of the world any longer, it has been handed over to the destroyers and ravagers of the earth and those who will rip and tear at the flesh of the poor.  And I want Jesus to give me some assurance that the solution to it all is right around the corner.  But he doesn't.  I'm not going to get out of this jail anytime soon, because that's not how this works.
"From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force." (Matt. 11: 12 NRSV)
The thing is, nothing has really changed.  That was true before, that is true now. Honestly, my hope in the grand solution of worldly power was misplaced.  Herod has always been in control, the principalities and powers are always going to run the show, and the Kingdom of Heaven is going to draw near to us despite all of that.
I never really noticed the despair of the Baptist in prison before, but this year it has grabbed me by the neck. Oddly enough, it sort of makes me feel better.  Why?  Maybe it's sort of like the blues, just knowing that someone else is in prison with me.  Maybe it's because I know the Kingdom of Heaven can't be stopped by Donald Trump's Tweets or Hillary Clinton's emails or fake news or confirmation bias or white nationalism.  Maybe it's because I know that the Kingdom is not far off just waiting for the right time to happen, but it's every day right in front of us, among us and coming to be through us.  Not through the great and the powerful, not through Herod or Caesar or the brood of vipers, but through us.
Sometimes your false hopes need beheaded and crucified before you can see how exactly the Kingdom of Heaven is coming, not a pleasant process to be sure, but maybe something has turned. I'm tired of being worried about whatever is going on with the Empire. It's all vanity and chasing after the wind.
I'm going to watch the world with open eyes. I'm going to look for the signs of the Kingdom: hope, peace, joy and love. You have to look hard, because the news doesn't cover them, not good enough ratings.  If the media is biased, it's not against right or left, it's against the signs of grace breaking into the world. What's happening in Herod's palace seems more important. the latest edict from Caesar on his throne will get all of our attention.
That's why the church, all people of faith really, need to be the witnesses, to tell what we see and hear, to give hope to the ones who are being put away and imprisoned. We are still the Prophets who see and testify to the coming of the Kingdom. People who were blind to the grace of God in the world seeing the Kingdom drawing near that's worth watching for.  People who were deaf to the word of the Lord hearing, that's worth listening to.  Those who were lame, unclean, broken, poor and outcast being made whole, forgiven and welcomed into the good news of the Kingdom... Let anyone with eyes see, and anyone with ears listen.

Hunting

Synchronicity is not just a Police album, it is Psychologist Carl Jung's notion that things in the universe are connected.  More to the point it is the observation of the human psychic phenomenon which allows us to see connections in the universe.  Things that happen randomly fit into patterns, some might call it fate or destiny, still others the will of God. Personally, I feel God's involvement is akin to that of an artist, rather than an engineer, there is a skill to creative use of synchronicity that is beyond technical superiority.  Thus, this morning, as I was conducting my daily, and increasingly gut wrenching perusal of the news of the day, a friend shared Wendell Berry's The Peace of Wild Things on Facebook.  I took a break from stories about the pipeline and politics to listen to that crusty old curmudgeon tell me something that was already on my heart, as poets are wont to do.
See, Friday I went hunting for the first time since I was about 15 or so.  The last time I went deer hunting was with my Grand-dad in the Poconos.  I wore the blaze orange Woolrich hunting coat that he gave me, remarkably it still fit.

I have spent a lot of time outdoors in the past 20 years, most of it unarmed. But on Friday, I had a gun, and purpose.  The first half hour I spent in the woods was a bit strange, I was very aware of the gun, its deadly potential, and the odd feeling of invulnerability that carrying it gives.  If I had any real thirst for the killing part of the hunt, it was probably then.  But there was nothing to kill, just some little birds and a lot of quiet.
Then the woods started to do their work. Normally I walk through them with the intention of getting from one place to another, hiking or walking the dog, I can breathe in the forest and experience the grace and peace of nature, but I don't really have to pay attention.  Hunting slows you down.  You slow to be quiet, you slow to look for little signs of the passing of your prey, tracks, bedding areas, rubs on the trees, even spoor. You sit still in a spot for a good long while, listening as the forest forgets you're there.
Since I live in Southern Maryland now, the rivers are always near.  The scenery is a different kid of beautiful from what I was used to in the mountains, but it will distract you from your quest pretty easily.

These are what I actually caught. I saw a Bald Eagle and a Red Tail Hawk, hunting along with me from the skies, but no Deer. I saw the evidence of their woodland routine though, I marked their tracks and saw the places where they lay down in the tall grass.  If I wanted to, I know where they go and when to wait for them there, but I don't actually need to follow through on that for the "hunt" to be a success.  

I was out there for about 5 hours,  I walked maybe 2 miles, which is not really much of a pace, but I got somewhere that I really needed to go.

A Prayer

Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for him;

Do not fret over those who prosper in their way, 

Over those who carry out evil devices.

Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath. Do not fret - it leads only to evil.

-Psalm 37: 7-8 (NRSV)

Lord, I am just so tired of being angry.  I can't watch the news or read the newspaper without this crushing sense of frustration. I've got too much fear, it's killing me inside.  I need to let it go and think about other things.  What can I do about any of it?  If fascists take control, or if chaos reigns, what can I do?

See Above.

Yeah, I get that, but it seems like there should be something to do, something to say, some vote to make or maybe a petition to sign.  It can't always just be about letting the rich get richer and the poor get trampled under foot.  Aren't you always talking about justice rolling down and stuff like that?

Justice is my job.

But we're supposed to help right?  I mean, incarnation, the Body of Christ in the world and all that.

Crucifixion is part of that job description.

Okay, I get it, take up your cross and all, but what about the vulnerable people we're supposed to take care of? The widows, the orphans, the oppressed, you know, the least of these?

How is worrying and being angry going to help them?

Prophetic anger Lord, Prophetic anger! Isn't that in the Scriptures too?  Head smashing, smiting, great vengeance and furious anger?

I think that was Pulp Fiction, but I can see how you might get confused.

Okay, now you're just being snarky, righteous violence is in there, I know it.  How is wiping out almost the whole human race in a flood not at least a little bit, you know, angry? 

I did regret that pretty hard, that's what you're supposed to learn from that episode.

But there were the Egyptians, and the Canaanites, and what about the Hittites?

You're such a preacher, nobody ever brings up the Hittites anymore.

I'm just worried, you know, because I'm pretty fond of this empire I live in right now, it's got good stuff, like freedom, iPhones and cheesesteaks. I don't want it to crumble into oblivion.

Why do nations rage and the peoples plot in vain?

Now you're just proof texting.

You started it, "what about the Hittites?"

I'm trying to pray serious here.

You're not doing a very good job.

I feel like you're not listening or taking me seriously.

I know how that feels.

Ouch.

Yep.

Okay then, Amen.

Good talk, see you later.

Yeah, I guess.