Another Wednesday

a meditation on yesterday:

another wednesday

another disappointment

i wanted to imagine the metamorphosis had occurred
to find that this year
i had become something more solid
something capable for doing real damage

no one ever smashed a window with a handful of dust

i didn’t need to be granite
i would have settled for pea gravel
anything with a modicum of staying power

i can understand being taken down by years of erosion
or the violence of a tsunami
a long fight against terminal illness
or the chaos of a car crash
tragedy seems excusable
noble even

but truth is
i am scattered by a headache
washed away by a flat tire
one word
one freaking* word
and i’m gone
no need for hurricanes

another wednesday

another reminder that i cannot do this alone
have no power to save myself
much less get my crap* together
(this thought alone might end me)

my hope lies in another
to apply the time and pressure
that will reveal the beauty in this carbon
changed yet unchanged

but for at least another wednesday
i remain
ash

*some words have been changed to protect the innocent

What hard travail God does in death! by Wendell Berry

I WILL find a way to use this next Easter! 🙂

 

What hard travail God does in death!

He strives in sleep, in our despair,

And all flesh shudders underneath

The nightmare of His sepulcher.

 

The earth shakes, grinding its deep stone;

All night the cold wind heaves and pries;

Creation strains sinew and bone

Against the dark door where He lies.

 

The stem bent, pent in seed, grows straight

And stands. Pain breaks in song. Surprising

The merely dead, graves fill with light

Like opened eyes. He rests in rising.

 

from A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997

 

i am your enemy (maybe, not now, but in the future…)

Jesus was once asked “Who is my neighbor?”

The story he told in reply has become so well known that the name of one of its main character has entered popular vocabulary: good Samaritan.

I wish Jesus had been asked, “Who is my enemy?”

Neighbors stand out, because there are so few. Enemies are the opposite.

There are too many to number, too many to even notice that they exist, like forgetting about the presence of air. They move in the obscurity of plain sight.

Neighbors also have some measure of control over whether or not they live up to their designation. Enemies are branded by direct malice and circumstantial perception alike.

I did not mean to take your seat at the movie theatre, but I took it nonetheless. Now I am your enemy, although not of my own volition, until I grow angry at your accusation of seat-stealing and punch you in the face. That was intentional.

Either way, I am your enemy.

(I am assuming that you do not like getting punched the face, otherwise you might consider my assault as an apology and act of reconciliation. For the sake of this post, you hate being punched in the face.)

My enmity toward you might have real substance or it might only be perceived, but your feelings toward me are likely the same: anger, fear, hatred, dismissal, aggression, etc.

These feelings are overabundant and overwhelming, not only toward Republicans, Planned Parenthood, or serial killers, but toward our partners, best friends, and the busboy who inadvertently misted me with cleaning solution meant for an adjacent table. Suddenly and with little warning, our worlds have been overrun by enemies.

Maybe Jesus was asked, “Who is my enemy?” and the brevity of his answer did not give it the weight of a parable or sermon.

“Everyone.”

And we know what Jesus said to do to our enemies.

That Which Leads Unto Death

I perceive two great negativities in the Christian thought.

Sin.

And death.

And that is the order I hear emphasized most often.

I hear that Sin is the first and greatest problem with humanity.

Death is merely an afterthought. A pesky consequence. Even our definition is couched in terms of Sin. The wages of, if you will.

What happens if we think backwards?

What if Death is the great negative in our lives, and sin merely the thing which leads unto it?

Death.

And sin.

What if we defined sin in terms of those things which lead unto Death?

Would everything that we call sin maintain that moniker? Would other things acquire it?

Perhaps, the more important question becomes: What is Death?

The Futility of ‘Justice’

After watching the Kony 2012/Invisible Children events that have unfolded over the last few weeks, I can not help but get the feeling that we are missing something in our quest for justice.

I get the same feeling as I listen to the advocates of many of the social justice initiatives that exist in our present culture. Advocates for gay rights, gender equality, the impoverished, the friendless, the oppressed, the forgotten.

I am not subject to oppression on a daily basis, so I must be careful to note that I am not belittling anyone’s efforts on behalf of any of the aforementioned groups. But I am concerned that in the majority of cases, we are merely treating the symptoms of injustice, not the root cause.

Protests and boycotts and parades and awareness campaigns have value and can be effective in changing practices and patterns of behavior. But as a follower of Jesus, I am less concerned about changing behaviors and more concerned about changing hearts. Without sufficient heart change, I may treat you in a way that simulates justice, while continuing to degrade and dehumanize you internally.

No one does anything without prior motivation. In order to influence others toward justice, we must give them sufficient cause. In order to effect lasting justice, we must exact lasting internal change.

This article by J. R. Daniel Kirk recently sparked my imagination. He writes:

‘One ongoing puzzle in reading the OT, early Jewish literature, and the NT, has to do with what it means to be human; or, what it means to be God’s elect people.

One thing that I have been working out over the past couple of years is the thesis that humanity, as depicted in biblical and early Jewish traditions, occupies a higher place in the cosmic hierarchy than angels.

This means that people can share God’s sovereignty over the earth, and at times even receive worship, because of the role God has given to humanity: it is God’s image and likeness, ruling the world for God.’

What if Jesus meant it when he said that whatever we do for the least of these we do for Him? Not in a symbolic or sentimental way, but literally? What if our depravity is only a veil, masking the fact that we are all glorious beings who have been imprinted with the image of God?

Could such a thought provoke us to justice, regardless of the characteristics and actions of the other person?

Just imagine. Joseph Kony and Jason Russell and Rick Santorum and Dan Savage and Pope Benedict XVI and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and you and me. Bearers of the image of God.

Are we willing to deal with that truth? Are we willing to do justice not because the oppressed have rights, but because they have the image of God stamped upon their very being? And are we willing to do the same for the oppressor?

Justice for the sake of justice itself is not enough to change my relationship with you. Justice for the sake of the image of God in you might be.