Tuesday, October 10, 2017


Jesus says God’s children are peacemakers.
Peacemaking starts with truth.
Without truth, any peace is a superficial brittle thing.
The consolations I hear about our tragedy
            remind me of Jeremiah who said,
            “They have healed my peoples’ wounds lightly,
            saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace.”

We were relieved to hear Stephen Paddock was not part
            of any ideological group.
He was just a random nut.
But, friends, random nuts grow on a tree.
You take a bunch of nuts and put them together
            into a cluster – call it ISIS or the Alt Right –
            and it’s still nuts.
They grow on a tree.

Now here’s the kicker.
It’s the same tree.
The violence of the fanatic, the nihilist, or the psycho
            all grows on the same tree.
It’s a religious tree.
It’s a bad old religion.

It’s a bad old religion that can wear different masks
            and go by different names.
It may call itself Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Buddhist,
            or it may deny being religious at all.
But it’s a 12,000-year-old religion
            that Biblical scholar Walter Wink
called “The Myth of Redemptive Violence.”

It first showed up in a Sumerian text called The Enuma Elish.
Its sacred narrative gets retold endlessly, with different names,
but always the same plot line and theme.
It goes like this:
The innocent victim is oppressed by the villain.
Along comes a hero strong enough to kill the villain.
We watch the hero’s violence and get a huge vicarious rush.
Then everyone lives happily ever after.

Movies, t v programs, video games, comic books, and popular music
 are the catechesis of this false religion.
Remember how great it was in High Noon
            when the pacifist Grace Kelly finally repented,
            shot an unarmed villain in the back,
                        and we all cheered.

History teaches us how false that myth is.
Violence never solves anything.
Remember the war to end all wars.
That was 1918.
Talk about a faith at odds with the facts!

Walter Wink said the whole Bible starting with the creation story in Genesis
culminating in the teachings of Jesus
repudiates The Myth of Redemptive Violence.
Yet, that myth is the our de facto established religion.
If there is danger from Korea, chaos in Venezuela, bullying in a school,
or discord in a home, violence is the answer for the world today.
We respect people for their ability to kill,
make heroes of them.
Our capacity for violence is the measure of our worth.
It’s what makes us matter.
I can kill. Therefore I am.

There is no separation of the State from that religion.
We have no Constitutional right to food.
We have no Constitutional right to medical care.
But we are fanatically jealous of our capacity to kill,
            because that’s what make us heroes.
Violence is where we place our faith,
            our hope for deliverance.

The Myth of Redemptive Violence shapes our public policy.
I am not talking about hunting rifles.
I am not talking about our frightened people
who feel a need to carry hand guns to be safe.

But what is the purpose of 100 round magazine clips,
semi-automatic weapons, and
bump stocks that make a rifle shoot like a machine gun?
We saw the that purpose Saturday night.

There are other things we didn’t see this time.
What is the purpose of dum dum bullets?
Hint: they are called cop killers, and they’re legal.
Some armor piercing bullets are legal.

Why? We enact into law our veneration of violence.
Until our recent tragedy, Congress was considering
legalizing silencers on semi-automatic weapons.
Silencers would have increase our casualties unimaginably.
I don’t mean we can eliminate gun violence
with legislation alone.
Jesus said it is from our hearts that evil comes,
including murder.
Hate will find a way.

So, we start with the heart of society.
The first thing is to get our religion right.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus told Peter
to put away his sword because
“whoever lives by the sword dies by the sword.”

The non-violent faith of Jesus is going head to head today
with The Myth of Redemptive Violence
--the myth that breeds war, terrorism, crime,
 and mass murder with or without an ideological costume.

If we want to change our death-dealing landscape,
it’s up to us to embrace and share with the world
some religion we can live with.
All the name brand religions
have that alternative at their hearts.
We just use different languages.

Here’s how Christians say it.
In the 14th Century, as Julian of Norwich lay dying of the Plague,
a priest held a crucifix before her eyes.
She had 16 visions, then recovered, and recorded her visions
as the first book ever written in English by a woman.

In one vision, she saw a hazelnut.
She asked God what it stood for.
God said it was the whole world.
Julian then asked, “it is so small, so fragile,
what keeps it from falling into nothingness?”
God answered, “It exists because I love it.”
The universe is born from God’s overflowing
procreative love.
We are sustained each moment by God’s love.
Jesus shows us what God’s love looks like.
God is willing to suffer for us, even die for us.

Jesus shows us a God who will submit to violence
rather than use violence.
Peter and Paul didn’t agree on much,
but they both said, “Do not repay evil with evil.”
They agreed because Jesus said,
            “Do not resist evil with evil. . ..
            Turn the other cheek . . ..
            Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.”
Jesus lived, died, and rose again in the faith
            that the world floats in the ocean of God’s love.
We swim in that ocean when we love as God loves.

Friends, God still loves this old world.
God invites us to love it too.
But that’s not just going around smiling sweetly.
St. John said, “Dear children, let us love not with words or speech,
            but in action and in truth.”
To love this world means to stand up for life
            against the forces of death whether they are in the government
                        or the entertainment industry.

It means to live compassionately.
The ones who we might want to destroy
            are the very ones we strive to understand.
 We follow the Prince of Peace.
We conclude each Eucharist with the words “Go in peace.”
We follow the cross and not a sword.

There are two great contenders for our faith,
            two numbers on which we night place our existential chips.
There’s our capacity to dominate the world with our own violence
            or there’s trusting in God’s love.
Love is the way of life. Violence is the way of death.

God said to Israel, “I set before you life and death. Choose life.”

Saturday, September 23, 2017


In the Parable of the Vineyard,
       some work dawn to dusk,
       some work noon to quittin’ time,
       others work just for the last hour of the day;
       but they all get paid the same.
Jesus says God’s Kingdom is like that.

I first read this story about 50 years ago,
       and it didn’t make much sense to me then.
I studied it in seminary and I’ve heard
       at least a dozen sermons on it.                      
In fact, I’ve preached a few myself.
But I never felt like I got it until this year.

It clicks for me now because I’m looking at it
from a new perspective.
My new perspective comes from a lot of years
       laboring in the vineyard of the church
       and from the novel I’m reading these days.
Sometimes literature can shed light on Scripture.

So let’s start with the novel.
I am reading Larry MacMurtry’s Lonesome Dove.
The principal characters in Lonesome Dove 
        are driving a herd of cattle
from the Rio Grande Valley to Montana.
Even if you haven’t read the book or seen the mini-series,
       I’m sure you get the picture.
The crew has to work together, hard work,
       dangerous work, facing and surmounting hardships.
There isn’t any room for ego-pampering.
There isn’t time for jealousy or competition.
There isn’t any tolerance for whining.
The only thing to do, day in day out,
       in good times or in bad,
       is to cowboy up and get on with the drive.
The heroism of Augustus, Captain Call, 
      and the other characters,
when they are heroic, is just this:
they get the job done.

I have always read this Gospel lesson
       from the standpoint of the laborers
       and I have accepted unquestioningly
       that their purpose in working is just to get paid.

But let’s look at it for a minute from the perspective
       of the landowner.
His goal is to produce a crop of grapes.
He may have paid those who worked an hour
       the same as those who worked all day
              out of some eccentric view of justice.
But more likely he just wasn’t that interested
       in his personnel costs.
He didn’t want to buy a time clock,
or hire a human resources department,
       a comptroller, and an EEOC compliance officer.
He didn’t bother to keep track of the time sheets.
He was just trying to grow some grapes.
If it doesn’t help you to imagine this guy
       as Robert Duval in Lonesome Dove,
       then try Henry Fonda in Sometimes a Great Notion.
Sometimes you have to just get the job done.

Now what do the laborer’s care about in today’s parable?
At their best, the real heart and soul cowboys
in Lonesome Dove cared about the cattle drive.
They cared about the cattle
       and in their cantankerous Texan way,
       they sometimes even cared about each other.

Would it be too much to hope that vinedressers
       might care about the vineyard?
Sure they would expect to get paid what was promised,
       but assuming that was done,
       their minds might be on the vineyard
              instead of competition.

They might be more interested in whether
they had properly pruned or tied the vines,
       than in how the landowner kept his books.
When they begin whining about someone else
       getting too much pay, the landowner replies
       in a way that sounds to me a lot like,
       “Just cowboy up and get on with the drive.”

Jesus is teaching a religion here,
       but it isn’t the one we may think of as Christianity.
He’s talking about the Kingdom
       which turns out not to be a reward for our morality
              but a way of life committed to doing God’s will.
 God’s will is to give us a mission.

We Anglicans spell out that mission
       as five fundamental projects.
1.  To proclaim the Gospel to the world – that’s evangelism.
2.  To Baptize and educate new believers – that’s Christian formation.
3.  To respond with mercy to suffering – that’s charity and pastoral care.
4.  To challenge unjust social structures – that’s prophetic advocacy.
5.  To sustain and renew God’s creation – that’s earth stewardship.

At stake are the lives of children.
A child dies of hunger related causes every five seconds
while more of our foreign aid goes to buy guns
than to buy food.
At stake are the hopes of people falling into despair
in a culture grown cynical and grim.
At stake is the survival of our planet.
Our mission is bigger than a grape crop,
bigger than a cattle drive.
There is no room in it for pettiness, jealousy,
or ego-agendas.

Yet the typical parish church spends half its energy
and attention making sure everyone
who wants their way gets it often enough.
I have seen church people at each other’s throats
       over the kind of floor covering to put in a parish hall,
              while the polar ice caps are melting.

Likewise, dioceses dissipate their energies
making sure this parish does not feel slighted
by some attention to that parish.
Then there is the competition of denominations,
       and jockeying over moral superiority
       or whose theology can be more orthodox or erudite.

When I look at Church squabbles, I hear Christ say,
       “Cowboy up and get on with the drive.”
Unless and until we do that,
       I don’t know why people outside the church
              should get mixed up with us.

I used to think the pettiness, jealousy, and bickering
       in churches was just human nature.
Maybe it is, but I think there is also something wrong
       with our religion that makes these vices worse,
not better.
Too many of us have gotten the idea that Christianity
       is about doing something, or believing something,
or having some kind of experience that is our ticket on the Wonderland Express of salvation.

It may be moral living or orthodox thinking
       or spiritual giddiness
– but the idea is to earn some spiritual wage,
       to get the gold star of God’s blessing.
And we would like to be more moral, more orthodox,
or more spiritual than the next guy
so we can get more of the blessing
or be more sure that we have our religious nest feathered.

But Jesus says in this parable, “it isn’t about that.”
The kingdom of heaven is not like Oz at the end
of the yellow brick road.
It is like this story of the vineyard.
The kingdom is laboring in the vineyard
for the sake of the vineyard.
We don’t save the planet to get a Nobel Prize.
We do it because we love the planet.

We don’t share the gospel to show how good we are.
We do it because we love the gospel
and the people we share it with.

Suppose we lived -- not just our church lives --
       but all of our lives without so much concern
              for getting our fair share of credit.
Suppose we lived like Dorothy Day,
Martin Luther King, Jr.,  Theresa of Avila
or any of the saints who were so caught up
in the mission they lost themselves in it.
Suppose we found our true lives
       by losing our egos in God’s Kingdom.
Then we might come into ourselves and live life fully,
       enjoying the game for the thrill of the game,
       not distracted by keeping score.

That kind of life would be living in God’s Kingdom.