Palm Sunday and Non-Violent Living

 A weapon less, army-less liberator rides into the violent polis on a colt. Is he crazy?

WATCH CLOSELY NOW. It is not likely you have ever before heard this take on Palm Sunday. Here it is: in theological and anthropological terms, I imagine Palm Sunday to be as much about ushering in nonviolence as anything. 

NAIVE SOCIAL MOMENT? Palm Sunday is at once an outwardly naïve social moment and at the same time an inwardly authentic signal of a new way of living and leading.  It is not that Jesus has not thoroughly exemplified nonviolence before now. It is that he is now allowing himself to be publicly declared Messiah in the heart of the polis and the stakes are ever so much higher. Watch him ever so closely now. Strain to observe as he faces his foes and darkest hours having completely renounced violence inside and out.

SIGNAL AND CONFIRMATION. His disarming and symbolic procession into the city on a colt amid shouts of "Hosanna!" isn't just a stunt. Renunciation of violence is heard in Jesus' voice and seen in his actions throughout his last week. The profound shift Palm Sunday signals is confirmed in what we call Holy Week. The nonviolent way of living and leadership Jesus has taught in the towns and rural areas is manifested in the city center and in the crucible of power. Even Jesus' effort to drive religious profiteers (mere pawns of a corrupt system) out of the temple should be taken as a near comical expression of the futility of violence. What does it accomplish? 

STRENGTH TO LOVE. But never mistake nonviolence for weakness. Jesus is not at all powerless as he enters Jerusalem. It becomes clear as the week advances, even as the cross is planted and the tomb is sealed, that Jesus is the controlling enigma. His chosen response to intimidation, pressure, accusations, betrayal, desertion, condemnation, suffering, violence, and even death is a nonviolent nonresistance based on love. It is not about giving in to fate or conceding anything. Instead, it is about exercising power that is nothing more or less than faith and trust in a loving God to bring meaning and life to one's existence, journey and mission.

ON AN EXCEPTIONAL PEDESTAL? When it comes to thinking of nonviolence as a way of life, it is a mistake to set Jesus on a heroic pedestal. It is a mistake to think of his actions as exemplary, exceptional, unique, and unrepeatable. It is a mistake to surmise that Jesus' pattern is not intended for our own lives or social and political behaviors. It is a mistake to sentimentally accept Jesus as personal savior and Lord, but immediately bracket and set aside the very core of his witness and pattern. It is erroneous to think of Jesus' nonviolence as limited to--and intended only for--his redemptive acts on our behalf.  How can it be that we want his forgiveness and laud his sacrificial life, but are not willing to live nonviolently, nonresistantly, lovingly, trustingly, powerfully ourselves?  Is this not, in the martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer's phrase, "cheap grace?"

SAYING ONE THING, LIVING ANOTHER. For all our words, worship, songs, and altruistic actions, when it comes to the most powerful aspects of Jesus' witness, do we imitate Jesus? We say we trust God, but do we make a mockery of faith in God's name before the world? We act as if we are certain the future of the world is best left in our self-defending hands and in our calculating control--better yet, in the hands of self-serving politicians and power brokers who give lip service to Christianity but live and act by the same power sources as did the Pharisees, Herod, and Pilate. And we bless them.

CHOOSE YOUR POWER SOURCES CAREFULLY. In Jesus, particularly in his so-called triumphal entry scenario, we are challenged to continuously renounce our violence every day in every encounter. We are given opportunity to renounce the subtlest uses of threats, intimidation, controlling, fear, and shaming. We are invited to let go of the impulse to be self defensive or to coerce others for the sake of keeping the peace or promoting just causes. Whether the arena is our household or the global stage, the opportunity is the same. We are shown how to live from a different place in our soul when it comes to making decisions, facing violence, and exercising power. It is a place of strength, the strength to love. So, choose your sources of power carefully.

A ROAD LESS TRAVELED. Nonviolence is not easy. Folks try hard to be nonviolent. It takes more energy and determination than going with the flow of violence that defines our culture. It is a road less traveled. It is marching to a different drumbeat. Sometimes we can be quite militant in our vigilant commitment to nonviolence, to the point of taking on a violent spirit. I am convinced that a commitment to and actions for nonviolence are not enough. Renunciation is pointless if not for a surpassing love that transcends violence and endues us with a higher power, a life-giving source.

AN EMBRACED TRANSCENDENT LOVE. Nonviolence apart from an embraced transcendent love remains mere idealism. It is right, but only partly so. Renouncing violence is unsustainable personally and socially in merely humanistic terms. Without a spiritually inward transformation, I am not sure that as a social agenda it will work. It seems to me that nonviolence can only lead to shalom if violence is supplanted by agape love.

LOVE AND VIOLENCE. But why is it that many who claim the name and love of God never renounce violence? Why do we not include personal and institutional violence when we declare, in the great confession, that "we renounce Satan and all his works?" Why do we continue to live in reflection of a violent god? Why is the spirit and example of Jesus on Palm Sunday and Holy Week not incorporated into the pattern and practice of our lives--personally and collectively? This remains an open question for me. It puzzles me. It keeps me looking forward.

Lent, Day 24: Navigating the Back Stretch

 The end of Lent is not in sight, though the halfway post has been passed

I’ve run a handful of local half marathons—the 500 Festival Mini Marathon and the Monumental Half Marathon. I talk about running a full marathon, but have not yet made the commitment or carved out the time and discipline necessary to prepare for it. Participating in these events has taught me that navigating the second half—the back stretch—is critical for completion. I relate that to the second half of Lent.

For me, the first half of a 13.2-mile run is mostly invigorating and hopeful. I’m surrounded by many like-hearted runners, fans shout and wave, the terrain is familiar, I’m not winded, and my mind is not playing tricks on me. 

But not long after the halfway post, things start to change—deteriorate, really. After 6.6 miles, everything gets serious. At first, I say to myself: “That first half was easy enough. The finish line can’t be far.” But, of course, it’s still just as far away and I am beginning to feel some fatigue. There are few encouragers along the roadside. The terrain is unfamiliar. I feel every pound of the pavement. Parts of my body begin to ache a bit. And each next mile marker—8...9...10—seems to take forever to appear. I try to hang with a small pod of runners at my slowing pace.

Mind games and self doubt escalate. “How long is this thing?” “Why did I sign up for this.” “What’s the point, anyway?” “I just can’t make it.” I talk my myself down from fatigue, anxiety, and the temptation to quit. “Finishing is going to feel so good!” “You started well; you will finish well.” “Shut up legs! Just do what I tell you!”

I struggle until about the 11-mile mark. Just a little over 2 more miles to the finish. “I can make it. I can take it.” And I do! And it is all worth it!

Day 24 of a Lenten fast is, to me, like mile 8 in a half marathon. The novelty has worn off. Each compatriot is fighting his or her own struggle. The cheers are few. It’s put you head down and grit it out time. It’s doing battle with bodily protests and mind games that challenge the very fast itself.

There’s every indication in the Gospel story that Jesus’ temptations in his wilderness fasting occurred after he was exhausted and hungry and vulnerable. It’s also when he countered each temptation with ancient wisdom and words.

Hang in there. Get into the struggle. Persevere through the early second half. Keep you eyes on the prize. I’m cheering for you. And we are not alone.

Pandemic Anniversary: Why Did American Leadership Wait So along?

 March 11, 2020 was the official shutdown day, but it should have been much earlier

By this day last year, I had been following alarming citizen Twitter accounts in Wuhan since early in January 2020. They graphically revealed devastation. My anxiety was off the charts. By March, these Twitter accounts were methodically being shut down.

There is not a single Twitter account remaining of nearly 100 from Wuhan that I started to follow in January 2020 to track the craziness of the disease and ground-level responses to it. Most were gone by the end of March 2020.

Why did America wait so long to respond? The handwriting was on the wall—in science and all over social media.

America could have—and should have—shut down long before March 11, 2020, in order to prevent loss of life and contain the disease. The intel was there. The science was there. The devastation in China was on social media. Our national leadership was either asleep at the wheel or in full denial mode.

Did America’s vast taxpayer-funded international intelligence resources—CIA, NSA, etc.—fail to alert the Trump regime of the dramatic growth and devastation of COVID19? Or, did Trump ignore or suppress it? 

Over 515,000 citizen deaths later, Americans deserve to know fully exactly what happened.

Lent, Day 19: The Difficult Middle

The halfway point in Lent may be the most difficult part of the fast/journey

If you are observing Lent with a fast and acts of spiritual focusing, you’ve arrived at the eve of the halfway point. Tomorrow will mark twenty fast days (not counting the three Sunday feast days).

How’s it going for you?

If you are simply interested in the practice of Lent and casually checking in, for whatever reason, welcome!

This is the point of wide divergence in extended communal fasting. This is the difficult middle. It’s when fasting can seem foolish and trite and, thus, dispensable. Or, it’s when fasting can trigger a “dig in and do this thing—no matter what” motivation. There are devotees of organized Christian religion who would never think of dismissing or discounting their Lenten fast. And there are people of equal spiritual integrity and inquisitiveness who legitimately second-guess or drop the scheme midstream.

To fast from anything for forty days requires significant discipline from anyone. But for some of us, simply focusing on any one thing for forty days is unusual and unprecedented within the calendar of our lives. It may have little to do with spirituality. It may have more to do with one’s emotional and physiological setup and inclinations. Folks with some level of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) may actually forget their intended daily Lenten trajectory in lieu of more immediate challenges and turns of events.

I frequently find myself in this boat. I have disciplined myself to think longitudinally. I have completed many courses of study, hold two graduate degrees, have seen multiple-year projects through, and invested in and helped nurture four children into responsible, independent, and thriving adulthood. I can do long term! But my default, natural proclivity is to give myself to whatever is momentary, crisic, and experiential.

That physiological reality, for me, makes every Lenten fast a plausible challenge. It’s not about love for God and neighbors or devotion to the best of the faith I’ve been taught and have taught others. It’s about steady focus on an ancient practice that frequently seems trivial and pales in comparison to pressing challenges of a world and community in crisis.

In Lent, I am called upon—we are called upon—to maintain focus, to fend off temptations to throw in the towel, to keep the fast to the end, and anticipate what may be learned, known, and experienced in no other way. 

We’re in the difficult middle. Hang in there!

Lent, Day 12: Lent Pales in Comparison to Ramadan

 If you think Lent is easy, try Ramadan

In Lent, Christians give up one habit or indulgence or necessity for 40 days. Admirable fast. Tough enough. But, come on, is it that hard?

In Ramadan, Muslims give up, from sunrise to sunset every day for a month, every intake of food or liquid.

Try it.

I have. Just to know the experience. Just to empathize with my Muslim friends and neighbors. I purchased the iPhone app. I followed the simple guidance. I woke up earlier to eat before sunrise. I held off eating or drinking until sundown.

I have not yet made it more than 10 days.

It is hard. Without a household or community who is supporting you in the journey, it is beyond difficult.

If you bypassed Lent (meh!), try Ramadan fasting that begins in April.

I will begin Ramadan fast again this year. I hope to complete it.

Completing either Lent or Ramadan or whatever intentional act of self-denial for the sake of spiritual renewal is the potentially transformative thing, it seems to me.

Lent, Day 11: Fasting Does Not Mean Passivity

Fasting is not passive, regressive, restive, or retreating.

Don’t be misled by a false notion that fasting in Lent means retreat from the troubles of the world. Or that it means resting a bit while whirlwinds of conflict—ideological or otherwise—swirl around us. Do not imagine fasting as a quaint, antiquated practice worthy of dabbling in for a bit of spiritual exploration. Do not make the mistake of fasting as a passive engagement in the face of the powers that be.

Tremendous forces are at work in our world. Principalities and powers can—and do—readily overwhelm those along for entertainment or a bit of enlightenment or daring to use them for their own ends. Half-hearted joy rides in Lent may draw one into raw power struggles in the depths.

When we dare to “deny oneself” we may be drawing a line in the sand of a heretofore silent and satiated ego that, offended, may well rise up and throw everything in the book at us to get us to return to “normal.”

If Jesus’ own temptations in his forty days of wilderness fasting are any indication, buckle your seatbelt and hang on. Whatever happens, keep your fast—no matter how trivial it may seem. Something bigger is happening that makes a simple self-denial hard to maintain.

For encouragement in this aspect of your Lenten journey, you might read The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. It seems to map the terrain of ego and temptation well.

Fasting, instead of disengaging us from real personal, interpersonal, and social/political/systemic struggles, may drive us more deeply into the heart of them. Perhaps there, in the depths and without a clear path through or out, we may experience something that will help us be part of liberation, equitable community, and change on the other side of the fast.

For now, however, stay lashed to the mast and endure the wild ride.