To the angel of the church in Laodicea write:...I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm — neither hot nor cold — I am about to spit you out of my mouth. (Revelation 3:14-16)
As we have seen before, one of my longtime fandoms is musical theater. Lately, I have been geeking out about the Tony-winning Broadway sensation, Hamilton, in which a racially diverse cast raps their way through a retelling of the early history of the United States with a specific focus on Alexander Hamilton, a Founding Father who tends to be known today only as “that guy on the $10 bill” or “that guy who was killed in a duel with Vice President Aaron Burr.”
Indeed, a major focus of the show is the development of the antagonistic relationship between Hamilton and his “frenemy” Aaron Burr, the narrator and self-proclaimed “damn fool who shot him.” We don’t have to wait long to find out the reason for Hamilton’s frustration, as the the show’s second song reveals Burr’s motto: “Talk less. Smile more. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”
Talk less, smile more. Well, that’s a piece of advice Hamilton, and indeed many of us, should heed more often. We spend so much time running our mouths when so many problems could be averted if we listened instead, and Biblical writers like James and the psalmists provide much evidence in support of this position. But what about the rest of Burr’s statement?
Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for. Now, that’s where Hamilton begs to differ, a complaint against Burr that he makes so often that, as the musical tells it, it ends up getting him killed. From the beginning, Hamilton recognizes the danger of what Burr is doing and calls him on it, using that old adage that I remember hearing countless times in youth Bible studies as a teenager: “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?”
It’s one thing to be reticent when deciding whether or not to openly support an uprising that will get you hanged for treason if it fails, but even later on, when Burr is campaigning for public office, his motto has not changed. He seems nice enough — “like you could have a beer with him” — and he’s popular with the ladies (“tell your husbands, vote for Burr”), but we still don’t know where he falls on the critical issues of the day. When it comes to decision time, as portrayed in the show, the thing that ends up swinging the presidential vote to Jefferson is the endorsement of his bitter political opponent Hamilton, who would rather support someone with whom he has “fought on like seventy-five different fronts” than someone who won’t come out and state his position on anything.
The moral of the story, then, is to stand up for what you believe in. We should definitely talk less and smile more — it’s hard to hear the voice of God when we’re constantly running our mouths. But we should never be afraid to let the world know clearly what we stand for, either. Our words, actions, and attitudes should clearly proclaim that what we are for is our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Strange Gifts from Odd Places
On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” (John 20:19-22)
For her first trip through time and space, the Doctor takes Rose Tyler five billion years into the future. They land on a space station called Platform One, where the richest beings in the universe are gathering to watch the death of planet Earth. As the dignitaries arrive, they are introduced and then they exchange gifts of peace with others. A tree-alien named Jabe gives the Doctor a cutting of her grandfather, and, in a comedic moment, the Doctor, with no gift to give in return, presents her with “the air from my lungs” and blows a gentle breath in her direction.
We’re supposed to laugh at what the Doctor comes up with when forced to think on his feet, and to wonder what is going to happen when he doesn’t get away with it. Instead of being expelled from the event for his cheekiness, however, Jabe takes the Doctor seriously, responding with gratitude and thanking him for such an intimate gift.
Jabe gets it, even when the Doctor does not. Breath is personal. To feel someone’s breath, you have to be physically located very close to that person. Jesus, too, gave a very personal gift, not to a stranger he had just met, but to his closest friends, when he breathed the Holy Spirit on them. Although he would soon leave them, he gave them the gift of himself, his life and presence to continue with them even after his human presence had gone.
To those of us who are willing to bring ourselves close enough, God will breathe the Spirit into our lives as well. “Breathe on me, breath of God, Fill me with life anew,” is what Edwin Hatch wrote in a 19th century hymn that is still familiar to many of us. If we are willing to bring ourselves close enough, that is exactly what God will do.
For her first trip through time and space, the Doctor takes Rose Tyler five billion years into the future. They land on a space station called Platform One, where the richest beings in the universe are gathering to watch the death of planet Earth. As the dignitaries arrive, they are introduced and then they exchange gifts of peace with others. A tree-alien named Jabe gives the Doctor a cutting of her grandfather, and, in a comedic moment, the Doctor, with no gift to give in return, presents her with “the air from my lungs” and blows a gentle breath in her direction.
We’re supposed to laugh at what the Doctor comes up with when forced to think on his feet, and to wonder what is going to happen when he doesn’t get away with it. Instead of being expelled from the event for his cheekiness, however, Jabe takes the Doctor seriously, responding with gratitude and thanking him for such an intimate gift.
Jabe gets it, even when the Doctor does not. Breath is personal. To feel someone’s breath, you have to be physically located very close to that person. Jesus, too, gave a very personal gift, not to a stranger he had just met, but to his closest friends, when he breathed the Holy Spirit on them. Although he would soon leave them, he gave them the gift of himself, his life and presence to continue with them even after his human presence had gone.
To those of us who are willing to bring ourselves close enough, God will breathe the Spirit into our lives as well. “Breathe on me, breath of God, Fill me with life anew,” is what Edwin Hatch wrote in a 19th century hymn that is still familiar to many of us. If we are willing to bring ourselves close enough, that is exactly what God will do.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Breaking the Cycle
You have heard that it was said, “Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.” But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you. (Matthew 5:38-42)
The climax of the Doctor Who series 9 story “The Zygon Inversion” comes with a face-off: Human versus Zygon. Kate Stewart and Bonnie, the Zygon copy of Clara Oswald, each stand next to a box with two buttons, each with the ability to destroy one race or the other - or both.
The Doctor, of course, can’t just stand by and let them destroy themselves - he has to make them see reason. “You just want cruelty to beget cruelty,” he says. “ You're superior to people who were cruel to you. You're just a whole bunch of new, cruel people. A whole bunch of new, cruel people being cruel to some other people who'll end up being cruel to you. The only way anyone can live in peace is if they're prepared to forgive. Why don't you break the cycle?”
The first time I saw the episode, I labeled this scene as the Doctor’s “Jesus Moment,” because what he is asking Bonnie and Kate to do is the same radical thing Jesus demanded of his followers two thousand years ago. Indeed, it’s the same radical thing he still demands of us today. There are so many conflicts in the world that could be solved if people would just listen to the other side, forgive past wrongs, and move forward to solve problems together instead of engaging in the never-ending back-and-forth of seeking revenge. Everyone wants to save face when instead they should be making the bold move of turning the other cheek.
Easier said than done, I know. Evidently Jesus knew, too, because what he said next just might hold the key to breaking the cycle: I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. (Matthew 5:44)
The climax of the Doctor Who series 9 story “The Zygon Inversion” comes with a face-off: Human versus Zygon. Kate Stewart and Bonnie, the Zygon copy of Clara Oswald, each stand next to a box with two buttons, each with the ability to destroy one race or the other - or both.
The Doctor, of course, can’t just stand by and let them destroy themselves - he has to make them see reason. “You just want cruelty to beget cruelty,” he says. “ You're superior to people who were cruel to you. You're just a whole bunch of new, cruel people. A whole bunch of new, cruel people being cruel to some other people who'll end up being cruel to you. The only way anyone can live in peace is if they're prepared to forgive. Why don't you break the cycle?”
The first time I saw the episode, I labeled this scene as the Doctor’s “Jesus Moment,” because what he is asking Bonnie and Kate to do is the same radical thing Jesus demanded of his followers two thousand years ago. Indeed, it’s the same radical thing he still demands of us today. There are so many conflicts in the world that could be solved if people would just listen to the other side, forgive past wrongs, and move forward to solve problems together instead of engaging in the never-ending back-and-forth of seeking revenge. Everyone wants to save face when instead they should be making the bold move of turning the other cheek.
Easier said than done, I know. Evidently Jesus knew, too, because what he said next just might hold the key to breaking the cycle: I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. (Matthew 5:44)
Sunday, March 20, 2016
The Vulcan Logic of Killing Hitler
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9)
In my last post, I discussed how Spock, in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, decided that the needs of the many — the Enterprise crew — outweighed the needs of the one — himself. But what if the one to be sacrificed is not the same one making the decision? To put it in terms of a classic time travel scenario, would you murder Hitler in order to save millions of other lives?
In the Tenth Doctor’s final story, “The End of Time,” Wilfred Mott confronts the Doctor with just such a question. They have escaped to an alien spacecraft high above the earth, while the Doctor’s old enemy, the Master, wreaks havoc on the planet below, having turned the entire human population into clones of himself. Wilf does the only thing he can think of to try to spur the Doctor into world-saving action — he offers him a gun. When appeals to the Doctor’s sense of self-preservation fall short (“Kill him before he kills you,” Wilf pleads), he asks what will happen to all the people if the Master dies. Upon learning that everyone will go back to being human, Wilf becomes angry with the Doctor: “Don’t you dare, sir. Don’t you dare put him before them.” Kill the one to save the many, in other words. Their needs outweigh the Master’s.
The Doctor continues to refuse, though. He can’t bring himself to kill the Master, not even to save everyone on Earth. The Master is just one, and a pretty evil one at that, but still he is one who matters to the Doctor, someone who was a friend of his, once upon a time — and someone who might still do something good one day.
Like the Doctor, Jesus demonstrates throughout his ministry that no person is unworthy of help or beyond redemption, not even the one sentenced to hang on the next cross over. When someone finally invents time travel, maybe the first trip back will be not to kill Hitler but to influence him to do good rather than evil. Until then, let us never give up on anyone as irredeemable, no matter how reprehensible he or she may seem to be — you never know when you might be the one who causes that person to change their ways and become a force for good in the world.
In my last post, I discussed how Spock, in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, decided that the needs of the many — the Enterprise crew — outweighed the needs of the one — himself. But what if the one to be sacrificed is not the same one making the decision? To put it in terms of a classic time travel scenario, would you murder Hitler in order to save millions of other lives?
In the Tenth Doctor’s final story, “The End of Time,” Wilfred Mott confronts the Doctor with just such a question. They have escaped to an alien spacecraft high above the earth, while the Doctor’s old enemy, the Master, wreaks havoc on the planet below, having turned the entire human population into clones of himself. Wilf does the only thing he can think of to try to spur the Doctor into world-saving action — he offers him a gun. When appeals to the Doctor’s sense of self-preservation fall short (“Kill him before he kills you,” Wilf pleads), he asks what will happen to all the people if the Master dies. Upon learning that everyone will go back to being human, Wilf becomes angry with the Doctor: “Don’t you dare, sir. Don’t you dare put him before them.” Kill the one to save the many, in other words. Their needs outweigh the Master’s.
The Doctor continues to refuse, though. He can’t bring himself to kill the Master, not even to save everyone on Earth. The Master is just one, and a pretty evil one at that, but still he is one who matters to the Doctor, someone who was a friend of his, once upon a time — and someone who might still do something good one day.
Like the Doctor, Jesus demonstrates throughout his ministry that no person is unworthy of help or beyond redemption, not even the one sentenced to hang on the next cross over. When someone finally invents time travel, maybe the first trip back will be not to kill Hitler but to influence him to do good rather than evil. Until then, let us never give up on anyone as irredeemable, no matter how reprehensible he or she may seem to be — you never know when you might be the one who causes that person to change their ways and become a force for good in the world.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
The Needs of How Many?
Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, “Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.” I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent. (Luke 15: 4-7)
A major theme of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan revolves around Spock’s logical Vulcan mantra that “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” Indeed, it is the driving force behind Spock’s ultimate sacrifice at the end of the movie, when he enters the radiation-filled chamber to repair the warp drive so that the Enterprise may escape the explosion that Khan sets off just before he dies. The way Spock sees it, his individual need to stay alive is not as important as the needs of the many Enterprise crew members to get away from the explosion and certain death, so he does the logical thing and takes a lethal dose of radiation to repair the ship.
On the surface, it seems like Jesus did a similar thing - he died on the cross so that every person who ever lived might have the chance to escape death. But is this actually the case? If we look deeper, we find that, in fact, Jesus didn’t die for everyone. He died for one person - you.
When Jesus told parables about seeking the lost, he spoke of the shepherd who left the rest of his flock to find the one sheep that had wandered off, and the woman who rejoiced when she found the one coin out of several that had fallen out of her purse. I’m sure Jesus thought it was wonderful when his disciples baptized thousands that first Pentecost, but not because of the overall number - because of each one that accepted him that day.
In our world of majority rule, it is easy to see the logic of Spock’s statement, yet even Spock’s friends reject it - in the next movie, subtitled “The Search for Spock,” they are laying their own lives on the line to find and rescue one person, causing Spock to comment on the illogicality of humans. It’s our nature, apparently - and since Jesus was human, it was in his nature, too. We are called to seek out the one we can help, the one who needs to hear the good news, the one we can feed, clothe, and visit. The needs of the many are irrelevant when we focus on meeting the needs of the one in front of us, because that one is the only one who matters.
A major theme of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan revolves around Spock’s logical Vulcan mantra that “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” Indeed, it is the driving force behind Spock’s ultimate sacrifice at the end of the movie, when he enters the radiation-filled chamber to repair the warp drive so that the Enterprise may escape the explosion that Khan sets off just before he dies. The way Spock sees it, his individual need to stay alive is not as important as the needs of the many Enterprise crew members to get away from the explosion and certain death, so he does the logical thing and takes a lethal dose of radiation to repair the ship.
On the surface, it seems like Jesus did a similar thing - he died on the cross so that every person who ever lived might have the chance to escape death. But is this actually the case? If we look deeper, we find that, in fact, Jesus didn’t die for everyone. He died for one person - you.
When Jesus told parables about seeking the lost, he spoke of the shepherd who left the rest of his flock to find the one sheep that had wandered off, and the woman who rejoiced when she found the one coin out of several that had fallen out of her purse. I’m sure Jesus thought it was wonderful when his disciples baptized thousands that first Pentecost, but not because of the overall number - because of each one that accepted him that day.
In our world of majority rule, it is easy to see the logic of Spock’s statement, yet even Spock’s friends reject it - in the next movie, subtitled “The Search for Spock,” they are laying their own lives on the line to find and rescue one person, causing Spock to comment on the illogicality of humans. It’s our nature, apparently - and since Jesus was human, it was in his nature, too. We are called to seek out the one we can help, the one who needs to hear the good news, the one we can feed, clothe, and visit. The needs of the many are irrelevant when we focus on meeting the needs of the one in front of us, because that one is the only one who matters.
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Giving
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Matthew 6:19-21)
On one of Clara Oswald’s first trips through time and space with the Doctor, he takes her to an alien world with a bustling marketplace that is the Doctor Who equivalent of the Mos Eisley cantina. One unique feature of this world is that there is no currency made of “bits of paper” to trade back and forth. Instead, the people of Akhaten trade in items with sentimental value. According to the Doctor, the value comes from a sort of psychic stamp that the items gain from their owners, although Clara questions why people should have to give up things that are important to them, especially when she is the one asked to give up her late mother’s ring in order to rent a space-Vespa.
I wonder what would happen if we were suddenly required to put in the offering plate things of sentimental or emotional value to us instead of bits of paper and metal. Would it change the way we view the things we are attached to? Would it change our view of God, making us resentful for having to give up things we love?
Here’s the thing, though — isn’t that what God is already asking us to do? Not necessarily giving the church a family heirloom (although I recently read about the diamond rings and gold coins the Salvation Army occasionally finds in their kettles at Christmastime), but at the very least, making sure our priorities are in order and that we are willing to give up the tangible for the intangible, should it be asked of us.
You can’t take it with you, the saying goes, no matter how great a value you have psychically attached to it. Make sure your treasure, and your heart along with it, is in the right place.
On one of Clara Oswald’s first trips through time and space with the Doctor, he takes her to an alien world with a bustling marketplace that is the Doctor Who equivalent of the Mos Eisley cantina. One unique feature of this world is that there is no currency made of “bits of paper” to trade back and forth. Instead, the people of Akhaten trade in items with sentimental value. According to the Doctor, the value comes from a sort of psychic stamp that the items gain from their owners, although Clara questions why people should have to give up things that are important to them, especially when she is the one asked to give up her late mother’s ring in order to rent a space-Vespa.
I wonder what would happen if we were suddenly required to put in the offering plate things of sentimental or emotional value to us instead of bits of paper and metal. Would it change the way we view the things we are attached to? Would it change our view of God, making us resentful for having to give up things we love?
Here’s the thing, though — isn’t that what God is already asking us to do? Not necessarily giving the church a family heirloom (although I recently read about the diamond rings and gold coins the Salvation Army occasionally finds in their kettles at Christmastime), but at the very least, making sure our priorities are in order and that we are willing to give up the tangible for the intangible, should it be asked of us.
You can’t take it with you, the saying goes, no matter how great a value you have psychically attached to it. Make sure your treasure, and your heart along with it, is in the right place.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Close Encounters
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them; and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. (Luke 2:8-11, KJV)
Roy Neary is an ordinary, hard-working, blue-collar guy. He’s out in his truck in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, doing his job, trying to figure out the cause of a power outage. Suddenly, strange things start happening around him and he finds himself in some kind of blinding spotlight from above. The instruments on his dashboard are going haywire, things are flying all around the cab, and the world seems to be shaking itself apart at the seams.
After the light goes away and everything is calm once more, he finds that he has been left with not only a strange sunburn on half of his face, but also a five-note earworm that just won’t go away and a strange compulsion to sculpt cylindrical rock formations out of mashed potatoes. Then, he finds he is one of a number of people who just can’t stay away from a particular place in Wyoming.
Roy’s experience in Close Encounters of the Third Kind is currently shaping my mental image of a group of shepherds in the hills near first-century Bethlehem. They were out in the middle of the night, in the middle of the fields, doing their jobs, when suddenly they were in the spotlight. The sky was going crazy above them, with first one strange being talking to them and then many, many more singing all around them. I imagine that the angels left them dazed, and they must have jumped a mile the first time a sheep bleated in the darkness afterwards.
I imagine also that they had a glorious new earworm and the mental image of a family in a stable, and when they conferred with each other about this, clearly they could not resist the pull to go into town and check it out. They found the family, the baby in the manger, and then they told everyone they met about their close encounter.
My wish is that we may have a close encounter this Christmas. May our ears be filled with the singing of angels and our minds be fixated on the Savior, but most of all, may our feet be compelled to go look for him and may our lips not keep silent but spread the good news everywhere we go.
Roy Neary is an ordinary, hard-working, blue-collar guy. He’s out in his truck in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, doing his job, trying to figure out the cause of a power outage. Suddenly, strange things start happening around him and he finds himself in some kind of blinding spotlight from above. The instruments on his dashboard are going haywire, things are flying all around the cab, and the world seems to be shaking itself apart at the seams.
After the light goes away and everything is calm once more, he finds that he has been left with not only a strange sunburn on half of his face, but also a five-note earworm that just won’t go away and a strange compulsion to sculpt cylindrical rock formations out of mashed potatoes. Then, he finds he is one of a number of people who just can’t stay away from a particular place in Wyoming.
Roy’s experience in Close Encounters of the Third Kind is currently shaping my mental image of a group of shepherds in the hills near first-century Bethlehem. They were out in the middle of the night, in the middle of the fields, doing their jobs, when suddenly they were in the spotlight. The sky was going crazy above them, with first one strange being talking to them and then many, many more singing all around them. I imagine that the angels left them dazed, and they must have jumped a mile the first time a sheep bleated in the darkness afterwards.
I imagine also that they had a glorious new earworm and the mental image of a family in a stable, and when they conferred with each other about this, clearly they could not resist the pull to go into town and check it out. They found the family, the baby in the manger, and then they told everyone they met about their close encounter.
My wish is that we may have a close encounter this Christmas. May our ears be filled with the singing of angels and our minds be fixated on the Savior, but most of all, may our feet be compelled to go look for him and may our lips not keep silent but spread the good news everywhere we go.
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