Borrowing a Cup of Hope

 If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.  --Philippians 2:1-4 NRSV

I’ve had multiple conversations this week regarding the difficult decisions people are making about holding family Thanksgiving dinners next week. We’ve never had to do Thanksgiving in a pandemic before, so we are all making it up as we go along. Each family has its own acceptable level of risk for such a gathering. I’ve heard of families proceeding as they do every year and others calling the whole thing off. Either way, Thanksgiving is sure to feel like the NFL games many of us watch on Thanksgiving Day. This year the games are still happening, but without the crowd in the stadium it just doesn’t feel right.

I’ve also heard from clergy friends about the rise in mental health crises they are seeing in their congregations, from depression to full blown breakdowns. In some ways, things seem relatively normal but beneath the surface lies a great deal of anxiety and stress as we navigate these unprecedented times. The struggles of these days demand that we reacquaint ourselves with how much we depend on one another.

Our culture prizes independence and individualism, so much so that we often put one another at risk. Those who argue wearing a mask during a pandemic is somehow oppression prove this point. The very air we breathe is shared by billions of other people and billions more animals and plants. Our very molecules are shared in the world around us wherever we go. Our separation from one another is an illusion.

The researcher and writer Brene Brown writes about how we are all connected. She says, ““I define connection as the energy that exists between people when they feel seen, heard, and valued; when they can give and receive without judgment; and when they derive sustenance and strength from the relationship.”  A physics teacher once tried to explain a force field to me. I had images of Star Trek and Star Wars in my mind, but he explained it is just the field of energy that exists between any two things or even all things in the universe. It’s there, but we just can’t see it. This is why Albert Einstein wrote, “We are part of the whole which we call the universe, but it is an optical delusion of our mind that we think we are separate. This separateness is like a prison for us. Our job is to widen the circle of our compassion so we feel connected with all people and situations.”  Widening our circles of compassion seems like a great idea, because many people are feeling isolated and imprisoned this Thanksgiving week.

In the Christian scriptures, this connectedness which is very real but often unseen by human eyes is called “koinania” often translated into the English word “fellowship” which seems like far too tame a word to me to describe the dynamic power of the Divine connecting us with one another. I grew up hearing the word “fellowship” referred to in terms of a refreshment time which took place in, of course, a church “fellowship hall.” The term seemed to refer to a cocktail hour full of teetotalers. In the New Testament however, “koinonia” refers to a relationship among the faith community which meant sharing in the sufferings of one another just as the group shares in the sufferings of Christ. It also meant partaking in the “light” and the “Spirit” of God not only as individuals but as community.

The surest way I know to help others during this time (and helping ourselves at the same time) is to reach out and to remind people they matter and are not alone. We can become prisoners of our own minds, convinced we are alone in a painful world. A seemingly small gesture can offer light and light to those who feel bereft of both. To have one’s grief, pain or sufferings acknowledged by others is a gift, a validation of the self and perhaps even a lifeline to someone drowning in their pain.

I’ve always heard of neighbors walking next door “to borrow a cup of sugar.” I guess that was a thing once, but I’ve never seen it. I like the image though of someone in the middle of putting together a recipe and short a mere cup of a necessary ingredient. The cooking is at a point where there’s no time to run to the store to buy more, but this small amount is crucial, so one requests the favor.

Today, I’m sensing there are many people who are short a small but necessary ingredient in their Thanksgiving preparations. They need a cup of hope to weather the disappointments and difficulty of these days. Perhaps they are struggling with a loved one’s health condition, they are away from family or they are battling psychological demons. Maybe they are unable or afraid to ask to borrow that cup of hope from you. So, it’s up to you to offer your small cup of hope to them.

Spiritual writer and nun Joan Chittister describes two pathways we can take in life: hope and despair: 

When tragedy strikes, when trouble comes, when life disappoints us — as it surely will — we stand at the crossroads between hope and despair. To go the way of despair colors the way we look at things, makes us suspicious of the future, makes us negative about the present. It leads us to ignore the very possibilities that could save us, or worse, leads us to want to hurt as we have been hurt ourselves. When I say that I am in despair, I am really saying that I have given up on God. Despair says that I am God and if I can't do anything about this situation, then nothing and nobody can. To go the way of hope, on the other hand, takes life on its own terms, knows that whatever happens God lives in it, and expects that, whatever its twists and turns, it will ultimately yield its good to those who live it consciously

I am sure Chittister would agree with the idea that sometimes we are unable on our own to choose the way of hope over the way of despair. Sometimes the pain is great and we need the support of community to help us find hope in life. I’ve found that it doesn’t take a lot of hope to help someone find their own path again, but that small cup offered by a friend or loved one is just what is needed. 

Today and in the coming days ask for the Spirit of God with whom you are in “koinonia” bring to your mind those in your life who need your cup of hope. You are already connected with them through the energy of God’s love. When their names and faces come to mind, don’t hesitate, immediately reach out to them. They only need to borrow a cup of hope from you.

Grace and Peace,
Chase

Why I’m Not Preaching About Thanksgiving on Sunday

Many preachers in America this week are preparing sermons about Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving and gratitude to God are a worthy subject on any Sunday, and maybe the wise preacher would stick to that topic, especially on a Sunday when her or his church is already thinking in such terms. Rarely has anyone called me wise, so I’m preaching on a different subject: our allegiance to Christ above all.

The reason I’m preaching on this topic is because I generally follow what’s called the Revised Common Lectionary, a three-year cycle of texts for each Sunday. In Christian denominations with more of a hierarchy than the ones I serve in, clergy are required to preach on a lectionary text each week. In churches with more freedom, clergy can preach on whatever scripture passage they feel led by God to use. I know preachers who like the lectionary and ones who don’t. I tend to preach from it, because otherwise I probably wouldn’t pick as wide of a variety texts to preach on. Besides, there is something to be said for different brands of Christians focusing on similar scripture passages each week.

Each worship or liturgical year according to the lectionary ends on the last Sunday before Advent, the season of four Sundays prior to Christmas. This way over 12 months, the church moves from looking forward to the birth of Christ through the life and ministry of Christ to focusing on the eternal reign of Christ before starting all over again. This does mean, however, that the preacher is talking about how Christ is above all things in the universe at a time of year when the congregation is busy thinking about the coming week full of Thanksgiving get-togethers, Black Friday shopping and getting out Christmas decorations.

Yet, people being too busy (clergy included) to think much about Christ’s ultimate place in the cosmos is not a new phenomenon. From Jesus’ inauspicious birth in a stable in Bethlehem to his disgraceful death as an executed criminal, most people were too busy to pay him much mind. It’s not just this time of year that is filled with too much activity for us to think much about Christ’s place in our lives; it is every week all year long. We are always busy.

The gospel texts for this Sunday each year illustrate the point of how difficult it is for human beings to consider the Kingdom of God Christ taught and lived out. This year it’s Matthew 25:31-46, the parable of the Son of Man judging the sheep and the goats. Next year it’s John 18:33-37 where Pilate asks Jesus if he is “King of the Jews?” and “What is truth?” In two years, it is Luke 23:33-43 where the crowd mocks Jesus on the cross, saying “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself!” In each, Jesus Christ is not recognized for the ultimate power he truly is.

Christ the King Sunday was first established by Pope Pius XI in 1925. He created it to remind the faithful that Christ was greater than the ideologies of his day competing for dominance: secular capitalism in the West, communism in the East and Fascism in Italy, Spain and soon to be in Germany. Protestants adopted it after Vatican II. It reminds us today that what our world mistakes for greatness today has little to do with the Christ who appears to us as “the least of these.”

We have just gone through a bitter presidential election with many Christians equating Christianity with one party. It is good for Christians to remember Christ cannot be reduced to a single political platform or issue. 

We struggle to juggle the demands of our economy, our families, our workplaces, and our society’s values. It is good for Christians  to remember Christ as worthy of our devotion above all these. 

We tremble before the threat of a pandemic this holiday season. It is good for Christians to remember that Christ holds power greater than life and death and remains our ultimate security. 

Our culture worships celebrity, wealth and influence while ignoring the plight of the powerless, poor and marginalized. So it is good for Christians to worship Christ who comes to us as a helpless and poor infant, a convicted criminal and disguised as people who are sick and in prison and in need of food, water, and clothing.

My mind and yours may be on the busyness of the season and the discomforts of the pandemic on Sunday but let us folks who claim the name Christian strive together to remember Christ is greater than all these things.

Grace and Peace,

Chase

I Confess I am Uncomfortable With Prayers of Confession

If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.
--1 John 1:8-9 NRSV

This past weekend I was honored to take part in an ordination service held via Zoom for a long-time friend and mentor of mine. She was my Baptist Student Union director for some of my time at the Southern Baptist college I attended. After a decades-long journey, she chose to pursue ordination in the Presbyterian Church, USA. I know from my own journey what it is to leave the faith tradition of one’s family and upbringing in order to search for a new home, so as a fellow “Baptist refugee” I celebrated the welcome she had received in another tradition.

During the service, we prayed a Unison Prayer of Confession that I am sure came straight out of the Presbyterian Church, USA Book of Order. Presbyterians are known for doing things “decently and in order” after all. Here is part of what the prayer said:

Merciful and loving God,
you have called us to be your people
and claimed us for the service of Jesus Christ.
We confess that we have not lived up to our calling to proclaim
the good news in word and deed.
We are quick to speak when we ought to listen
and remain silent when it is time to speak.
We put too much faith in our own actions
and fail to trust the strength of your Spirit.

The prayer concluded with a request for the grace to live out Christ’s calling in our lives and was fallowed by an “Assurance of Pardon” offered to the congregation.

I think the prayer or one like it is a good one to pray every time a church gathers and maybe a good one for Christians to pray individually every day. There is certainly nothing I object to in it and maybe I’m just “disorderly” in my own preferences for worship, but I struggle a bit with prayers of confession. I don’t naturally gravitate towards including them in worship services I lead. I think this personal struggle of mine is a struggle with shame.

I know I’m not the only one who struggles with shame. There are some of us who are wired to be overly zealous in our self-examination and self-criticism. Growing up Southern Baptist, the countless messages of how great a sinner I was merely confirmed what I already thought about my own inadequacies. There were messages about grace too, but they never seemed to make the same impression.

There is a recognition that bubbles up naturally among people who struggle with religious shame, a shared understanding that passes unspoken when two similar souls meet. I’ve met them throughout my career as a minister and they were usually raised Southern Baptist or some other kind of Evangelical but also Roman Catholic too. Even though they don’t believe in a judgmental or wrathful God anymore, their backs are permanently knotted from looking over their shoulder braced for a lightening bolt hurled by angry deity.

I’ve learned however, along my journey as a minister that there are plenty of people who love prayers of confession and revel in a theology emphasizing the depravity of us sinners. These folks pray the prayers as if it applies to everyone but themselves. I’ve encountered such church folk most often on church boards or committees. They’re the ones who fire off furious emails criticizing others, reminding everyone how much money they give to the church and what would happen if they chose to leave it. As the frequent recipient of such missives, I’ve wondered why such people even go to church at all?

The folks who most intrigue me, however, are the ones who seem to pray the prayers of confession but take just as seriously the words of assurance offered after the prayer. Somehow, they balance their very real need to acknowledge their shortcomings, sins of commission and omission, while at the same time feeling comforted that God forgives them and shows them grace. Folks like this seem to get it right. They take the confession seriously with humility but don’t wallow in shame, preferring instead to revel in God’s goodness. Maybe I’ll get to where they are someday.

I was raised as a good Protestant to believe in what’s called the Priesthood of All Believers, the idea that in Christ I have my own relationship with God and do not need a priest, saint or anyone else as a middleman or middle-woman between me and God. Yet, I’ve always been a bit jealous of our Catholic siblings who make a practice of confession and being declared forgiven by a priest. The simple act of asking God to forgive me through prayer never seemed to convince me I was really forgiven. Sometimes when you know you really have blown it and can’t make up for what you’ve done to hurt others merely knowing God forgives you isn’t enough. Sometimes God must speak through another person's voice for one to hear God’s loving mercy.

Along my journey as a minister, I’ve met people who needed someone to pronounce them forgiven by God. I’ve always been uncomfortable in such a priestly role, wary of speaking for God, but at times I’ve dared to do so, because their need to hear it was so great. I’ve said the words with as much authority as I could muster, pronouncing “God forgives you” because I believe it with all my heart, at least for everyone else but myself. There’s still the voice inside my head that whispers, “Yeah, but what about . . .?”

I probably still won’t be inserting a Prayer of Confession followed by an Assurance of Pardon into a worship service I plan any time soon, at least not unless the circumstances demand it. But if you need me to speak for God and pronounce you forgiven because you are struggling to believe it yourself, I am glad to do so. Just be prepared for me to ask you to pronounce the same thing to me in return.

Grace and Peace,
Chase

The Myth of Persecuted American Christians

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
--Matthew 5:10-12 NRSV

When most American Christians speak of being persecuted for their faith, I can only roll my eyes and guffaw. Throughout the history of Christianity there have been Christians persecuted for their faith and that persecution still happens today in many countries, but rarely does it happen in America. When it does happen in our country, it’s not for the reasons most American Christians claim.

American Christianity, especially its Evangelical varieties, has a persecution complex. Why? People who claim to take the Bible literally (a false claim by anyone foolish enough to make it) can find plenty of verses in the Christian scriptures equating being a good Christian with undergoing persecution. The final Beatitude couplet in Matthew 5:10-12 is a case in point. When scriptures are seen this way, one can’t be a righteous Christian unless one is persecuted. Yet in a pluralistic democratic republic where most of the population claims at least to be nominally Christian there is no persecution of Christians, at least not persecution like Christians in the first century experienced or Christians in a country like China experience today.

The New Testament writings came about in the midst of religious conflict first with the Judaism out of which they originated and then with the wider Greco-Roman world. When a religious movement is a small minority, they experience persecution, but when they are the overwhelming majority, they more often become the ones carrying out persecution.  The latter is certainly the case in America today. So, without actual persecution, American Christians look for ways they can claim victimhood, because otherwise how can they be good believers?

Usually claims of persecution involve one of a number of key social sins involving gender, reproduction and sexuality.

“See how the world hates us, because we consider homosexuality to be a sin!”

“See the persecution we face for protecting the lives of the unborn!”

“See how they condemn us, because we will not ordain women as ministers and declare men are the head of the household!”

The problem with such claims is that nobody in America is stopping them from believing such things or even going through lawful political channels to change laws, but in a nation where everyone’s religious beliefs (or lack of) must be protected, no one religious group, even a very vocal religious group, gets things their way all the time. Such disputes were easier once upon a time, when the only people who had power were largely White people of European descent who claimed to be Christian, but America is thankfully changing. The freedom to believe certain things in a religious community and the power to impose those beliefs on everyone else are two very different things.

The problem with most American Christians who cry persecution is that what society is pushing back against is not their religious beliefs but rather their hatred, judgment and seeking to control other people’s most intimate relationships and behavior. In such cases, I find it hard to believe Jesus would be on the side of the religious people spewing condemnation and mourning because they don’t get their way all the time. The kind of persecution Jesus is talking about is not privileged people claiming victimhood while they actively victimize others.

The kind of persecution Jesus declares blessed is the kind one undergoes “for righteousness’ sake.” While many American Christians claim they are being righteous, in reality they are living out the kind of self-righteous religiosity Jesus roundly condemns. The “righteousness” Jesus describes in his life and ministry involves caring for those whom society considers “the least of these.”

We can see what Jesus means by righteousness by what he is criticized for doing.

Jesus is criticized for his relationships with prostitutes, tax collectors and other sinners. Today, too often it is the Christians with the loudest megaphones who condemn equality for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer people and anyone who doesn’t subscribe to their particular understandings of gender and sexuality.

Jesus is criticized for his relationships with women, some of whom take active roles in his ministry. Today, too often it is Christian churches and advocacy groups that wish to control and limit what women can do and not do.

Jesus is criticized for opposing those who use religion to manipulate and exploit people who are poor. Today, too often the most visible Christians are the ones leading the charge against those with the least power in our society, such as immigrants, people living in poverty and low-wage workers.

The only Christians I am aware of who face any kind of persecution in our society are ones who stand with the powerless. Churches that offer sanctuary to undocumented immigrants facing deportation lose members and face community opposition. Churches that affirm LGBTQ people are kicked out of their denominations. Churches that stand with low income residents fighting against policies and laws that unfairly affect poor people find themselves declared “soft on crime” or “against law and order.” Churches that declare their allegiance is to the Kingdom Heaven above their allegiance to the United States and question our nation’s use of violence around the world are labelled “unpatriotic” and “un-American” or charged with “not supporting the troops.” In fact, one of the few ways I can think of for American Christians to actually be persecuted is when they are willing to stand with people that don’t have well-stocked political action committees and lobbying groups. If you want to make both Democrats and Republicans mad at you, then just treat people who are powerless and penniless as if they are equal in the sight of God. Pretty soon, people of all political stripes will want you to quit causing them trouble.

In Matthew 25 31-46, the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats, Jesus presents the startling idea that the “sheep” who are considered “righteous” do not even know they are serving Christ himself.  

^“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing?’” NRSV

This means that the folks caring for people who are condemned and ignored by the Christians claiming to be persecuted may be the “sheep” in contemporary America. This also means that the kind of Christians who claim to be persecuted for their beliefs may end up being the “goats” condemned for their unrighteousness. The “righteousness” Jesus says his followers should be persecuted for stands in stark contrast to the self-righteousness displayed by the many American Christians who claim to be persecuted.

Grace and Peace,
Chase 

Why Don't Radio Stations Play Thanksgiving Songs?

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.
--James 1:17 NRSV

I’ve got a problem brewing in my house.

One of the local radio stations started playing Christmas music last week, and my wife, who can barely wait until the Thanksgiving dinner has cooled to break out the Christmas decorations, has begun blasting Christmas music on the stereo in our den. My sons and I have begged her to just hold on until the day after Thanksgiving, but my wife is pretty darn stubborn when she has made up her mind. She responds to our pleas, “There isn’t a radio station playing Thanksgiving music, and I want to get in the spirit of the holidays, so I’ll be thankful for Christmas music.”

When I continue to beg her to at least hold off on the Christmas music until I’m not in the room, she  gives me the look that she gives me when she wants me to suck it up and get over it and says, “2020 has been a hard year. COVID has caused so many things I love to do during the holiday season to be cancelled, and I need Christmas music right now. I’ll take all I can get.” I sigh and try to block out the sounds of John Mellencamp’s abominable version of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.”

I get it; I really do. 2020 has been a dumpster fire of a year. Even though we made it through the presidential election without a constitutional crisis and rioting in the streets, we are already on to the next crisis—and it’s the same crisis we’ve been dealing with all year—the COVID-19 pandemic. Restrictions are returning in many municipalities. Schools are returning to fully online classes. Thanksgiving dinners are potential super spreader events. COVID cases and hospitalizations are rising and this winter looks to be as bad as we feared. We all await vaccines to end this sorry chapter of our collective history.

So, if listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving helps you get by, then by all means let the Pointer Sisters sing to you “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” There are certainly coping mechanisms that are more destructive (even if there are few more annoying). I’m just going to throw out there the plea for you to sprinkle some gratitude and thanksgiving in while listening to Jewel nasally butcher “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”

Gratitude shouldn’t need its own holiday but offering thanks to God once a year before gorging oneself on turkey and falling asleep in a tryptophan coma while watching football is better than never doing so. Every major religious tradition says gratitude is at the heart of connecting with the Divine just as every self-help writer says it’s essential for a healthy and happy life. I believe it is also the best way to cope with a year like 2020. Gratitude is more effective, of course, if we practice it as often as possible.

In her wonderful book on spiritual practices, An Altar in the World, Barbara Brown Taylor writes,

“In the same way that I am willing to thank my husband for a gift even before I have opened it—because I trust his love of me—I am willing to thank God for my life even before I know how it turns out. This is brave talk, I know, while I can still pay the bills, walk without assistance, and talk someone into going to the movies with me. My hope is that if I can practice saying thank you now, when I still approve of most of what is happening to me, then perhaps that practice will have become habit by the time I do not like much of anything that is happening to me. The plan is to replace approval with gratitude.”

If you are struggling with being grateful at a time when so many of our routine pleasures can’t be experienced, I offer this poem by Ross Gay to read, meditate and pray over:

If you find yourself half naked
and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing,
again, the earth’s great, sonorous moan that says
you are the air of the now and gone, that says
all you love will turn to dust,
and will meet you there, do not
raise your fist. Do not raise
your small voice against it. And do not
take cover. Instead, curl your toes
into the grass, watch the cloud
ascending from your lips. Walk
through the garden’s dormant splendor.
Say only, thank you.
Thank you.
--Ross Gay

I’m not asking for radio stations to put “Come Ye Thankful People Come” as sung by somebody like Taylor Swift on heavy rotation, but I do ask that all of us offer up some gratitude for the next ten days or so.

Grace and Peace,
Chase

Blessed are Those Who Peacefully Shape Reality Around Them

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
-Matthew 5:9 NRSV

Rarely do we hear the word “peace” anymore in the sense of cessation of conflict between two or more parties. Perhaps we encounter the term “peace” in this way when we see a news article about another failed Mideast peace plan or when we are watching a documentary about a peace treaty at the end of World War II. For some, the word “peace” may conjure memories of peace marches during the Vietnam War or hippies making the peace sign. When I think of the word “peacemaker” I have images in my mind of diplomats sitting across the table from one another negotiating a treaty, but it doesn’t seem like a job for ordinary people like me and you. So, this Beatitude of Jesus seems at first unrelated to daily living.

We do hear the word “peace” a lot today in the sense of inner peace. So maybe it is worth beginning any discussion of peacemaking with the personal and internal. Mystics from various traditions teach that any efforts for peace in our world can only begin with peace inside us. The medieval Christian mystic Julian of Norwich said: 

“Peace and love are always in us, existing and working, but we are not always in peace and in love.” 

The Vietnamese Zen Buddhist master Thich Nhat Hanh writes:

“Peace is present right here and now, in ourselves and in everything we do and see. Every breath we take, every step we take, can be filled with peace, joy, and serenity. The question is whether or not we are in touch with it. We need only to be awake, alive in the present moment.” 

The Jain monk Satish Kumar writes: 

Lead me from death to life, 
from falsehood to truth.
Lead me from despair to hope, from fear to trust.
Lead me from hate to love, 
from war to peace.
Let peace fill our hearts, 
our world, our universe.
Peace, peace, peace.

The first step to making peace in the world seems to be finding peace in ourselves. Attempts to make peace with those around us have a difficult time succeeding when we proceed from a conflicted place inside of ourselves.

As we move outside of ourselves into the world around us, peace may seem like an abstract concept for those of us privileged enough to live in save neighborhoods that are largely free of violence. Yet it doesn’t take much effort to see violence at work in all areas of our lives. In his writings about leadership, Parker Palmer writes that our perception of the world around us shapes our actions in that world. When we view the world as hostile and full of scarcity, we act with hostility and view everyone as a threat to our interests.

[A shadow that affects leadership] is the perception that the universe is essentially hostile to human interests and that life is fundamentally a battleground. As I listen to everyday discourse, it is amazing to me how many battle images I hear as people go about the work of leadership. We talk about tactics and strategy, about using our big guns, about do or die, about wins and losses. The imagery here suggests that if we fail to be fiercely competitive, we're going to lose, because the basic structure of the universe is a vast combat. The tragedy of that inner shadow, that unexamined inner fear, is that it helps create situations where people actually have to live that way. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. . . Our commitment to competition is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Yes, the world is competitive, but only because we make it that way. Some of the best places in our world, some of the best corporations, some of the best schools, are learning that there is another way of going about things, a way that's consensual, that's cooperative, that's communal. They are fulfilling a different prophecy and creating a different reality.

Palmer points out how we create the opposite of peace in our families, our workplaces, our schools and our places of worship when we enter them expecting competition and conflict. When the only tool in our tool belt is to dominate others before they dominate us, there can be no peace. When we learn ways of living that create compromise, community and sharing of resources, we create a new reality.

In this precarious time in the political life of our nation, we are in need of peacemakers. Peace understood in this sense is not the avoidance of conflict or the absence of struggle. Instead peacemakers help create contexts and spaces where people in conflict can feel secure enough to let their guard down, listen to other points of view and find the common good once more.

I have an experiment for you to try out. On any given day try to keep track of the number of violent images and words you hear or experience. These words or images can be news stories about violence or conflict. They can also be cases where imagery of war and violence are used in ordinary situations such as business meetings or conversations with friends or family. Count the number of times something violent is in the media and advertising you consume. If you are alert, I bet you will quickly lose track of the number of images and words involving violence, war and weaponry you experience in an ordinary day.

We are saturated with images of violence and war. It pervades our language and our actions. Is it then any wonder that we know so little about making peace? Peace has become a rare word in our culture. It is time for people to understand the word peace as more than an unrealistic and abstract idea but rather as a vital way of changing reality around them.

The reason Jesus said peacemakers are blessed is because they not only see but already live in the reality of God’s peace. It is possible for you and me to experience that blessedness too. I found the following quotation today, and I can’t get it out of my head. It seems to fit with the kind of peacemaking Jesus was pronouncing as blessed.

You are someone only in as far as you are love, and only what has turned to love in your life will be preserved. What love is you can learn from Jesus…. So be converted to love every day. Change all your energies, all your potential, into selfless gifts for the other person. Then you yourself will be changed from within and through you God’s kingdom will break into the world.
--H. van der Looy, Rule for a New Brother

May you be converted to love today.

Grace and Peace,
Chase 

Blessed are People of Integrity Who Go Unrewarded

 “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” --Matthew 5:8 NRSV

For the last two weeks, I have been sharing about the Beatitudes in Matthew 5:1-12. They form the beginning of what is called The Sermon on the Mount, a collection of Jesus’ sayings in Matthew 5-7. I believe the best way to interpret these verses is not as an instruction manual from Jesus, but as declarations from Jesus about how the world really works, all appearances to the contrary. 

 

A group of clergy called SALT Project does a nice job of describing this way of understanding the Beatitudes:

 

Jesus paints an utterly counterintuitive picture of blessedness: looking around the world, then and now, and it’s easy to conclude that the “blessed” are the rich, happy, strong, satisfied, ruthless, deceptive, aggressive, safe, and well-liked — and yet here’s Jesus, saying that despite appearances, the truly “blessed” are actually the poor, mourning, gentle, hungry, merciful, pure in heart, peacemaking, persecuted, and reviled.

 

It seems easier to me, however, to think of God declaring the poor in spirit or those who mourn are blessed than it is the pure in heart. It feels self-righteous or even hypocritical to declare oneself pure in heart. Which one of us doesn’t have some kind of falsehood, selfishness or double mindedness inside of us? As Christians we are taught that all of us are sinners who stand in need of the grace of God. With all that we know about psychology today and how our unconscious urges, desires and biases shape our behavior, how can anyone say they are really pure in heart?

 

For the biblical writers however, purity of heart seemed to be attainable. This Beatitude echoes the 24th Psalm which declares:

 

Who shall ascend the hill of the Lord?

    And who shall stand in his holy place?

Those who have clean hands and pure hearts,

    who do not lift up their souls to what is false,

    and do not swear deceitfully. (Psalm 24:3-4 NRSV)

 

Purity of heart might be rare, but it was possible, so it must mean something other than perfection or a complete lack of sinful thoughts and actions in one’s life.

 

For me, this Beatitude is not about getting everything right or being utterly innocent of thoughts and actions that hurt ourselves, others and God. Rather it is about being a person of integrity. 

 

• Being pure of heart means keeping one's promises and commitments.

• Being pure in heart means speaking truthfully yet lovingly to others.

• Being pure in heart means accepting hard truths about oneself and taking responsibility for one's mistakes and faults, making amends whenever possible. 

• Being pure in heart means being a person whom others can trust and who are consistent in their actions, beliefs and words without changing them for different audiences or circumstances.

 

Purity of heart takes concrete form when one refuses to triangulate against a coworker just to get ahead or even to make oneself feel better about one’s own inadequacies.

 

Purity of heart takes concrete form when one chooses to be honest when no one is looking or could ever know if you were dishonest.

. 

Purity of heart takes concrete form when one sticks with the truth of who you are and what you have done in the face of criticism, rejection and even false attacks. A person who has integrity of heart does not need to respond in kind to people who unfairly criticize them behind their backs or undermine friendships or relationships. Purity of heart means not having to lower oneself to the false behaviors of others, because you know your own truth which gives you all the reassurance needed.

 

In a world with “alternative “facts” and where truth is bendable depending on which cable news channel you are watching, it may not seem like integrity matters. In a world where those in power declare “greed is good” and “winning is everything,” integrity doesn’t seem to offer much reward. Yet Jesus declares that no matter what our culture says, integrity means everything to God. God sees and knows our hearts. God knows when we are being truthful and living with integrity even if nobody else does. The greatest reward of all--greater than getting ahead in office politics, greater than any popularity context, greater than achieving any power in this world--is our integrity allows us to “see God.” to recognize the true reality of love and grace which pervades all of creation.

 

Psalm 24 declares the pure in heart shall enter the Holy of Holies in the Jerusalem temple, the most sacred spot on earth, and see God face to face. Jesus declares the pure in heart shall see God without any such restriction of location. The person who walks and lives and speaks with integrity can see beyond the lies and deceits of our culture to lay eyes on God’s work of love and justice which is so often obfuscated by human deceitfulness. This reward offers more blessedness than any half-hearted or false-hearted person can ever know.

 

Grace and Peace,
Chase