January 2018 – Southwest Conference Blog

In These Tough Times…

Ours is a world “no longer experienced as stable, predictable, or even comprehensible.”[1] Fear, anxiety and hopelessness have become hallmarks of how Americans feel these days, if not for ourselves, for our family members, our friends, or our neighbors. The question in our Gospel text is indeed the question of our day: What is this?!

In these tough times, Psalm 111 invites us to return to our spiritual center, focusing on the attributes and accomplishments of God.

“I give thanks to God with everything I’ve got—” writes the Psalmist. “Wherever good people gather, and in the congregation. God’s works are so great, worth a lifetime of study—endless enjoyment!

Splendor and beauty mark [God’s] craft; …generosity [that] never gives out, miracles [that make a lasting] memorial [to] this God of Grace, this God of Love.

[God] gave food to [ones] who fear him, remember[ing] to keep the ancient promise.

[God] proved to [Israel] that [what God said, God could really do]:

Hand them [a place and a home] on a platter—a gift!

[… manufacture] truth and justice;

[Everything God does is] guaranteed to last—Never out-of-date, never obsolete, rust-proof. All that God makes and does is honest and true: [paying] the ransom for his people, [ordering] God’s Covenant [be] kept forever. [God is] so personal and holy, worthy of our respect.

The good life begins in the fear of God—Do that and you’ll know the blessing of God. His Hallelujah lasts forever!^[2]

We may not see these qualities in our national or local leaders, but certainly God is:

Honorable
Majestic
Gracious
Merciful
Powerful
Faithful
Just
Trustworthy
Holy
Awesome

Because God is all those things and more, God does certain things. Psalm 111 calls them “wonderful deeds.” You can recount some of them; I know you can.

Creation
Leading the people out of Egypt
Giving them manna and quail in the wilderness
David triumphing over Goliath
Repeatedly saving the people from what appeared would be certain defeat
And the list goes on…

“The Hebrew word in Psalm 111 translated “wonderful deeds” is niphla’oth.” It means “something that I simply cannot understand,” or “something different, striking, remarkable; something transcending the power of human intelligence and imagination.” [3] Something that makes us say to ourselves and to others, “What is this?!”

If we must be caught up in what feels unstable, unpredictable, or even incomprehensible, then at least let us choose what things those will be! Both Psalm 111 and our Gospel story today invite us to choose the attributes and works of God as the center of our attention. There goes the oppression of powerlessness and hopelessness and anxiety -did you feel it start to lift?! If we must be caught up in what feels unstable, unpredictable, or even incomprehensible, then let us choose what things those will be: the honorable attributes and wonderful works of God!

In these tough times, we don’t see those honorable attributes or wonderful deeds in our most visible leaders, and so we find ourselves grieving our loss of those expectations and past experiences. And yet, honorable attributes and wonderful deeds are alive and well in our God. God invites us today and each day to center ourselves in God’s instability, God’s unpredictability, in God’s incomprehensibility, for there we find all that is holy and just, gracious and merciful, majestic and honorable, powerful, faithful, and awesome!

When the people in our Gospel story asked themselves and one another, “What is this?!” they weren’t crying out against their political or religious leaders, or their hopeless circumstances, or their own insecurities. They were raising their voices in awe for what Jesus was doing in their midst: speaking with authority, taking on evil, silencing accusing, judgmental, disruptive and divisive voices, calling out demons, and restoring wholeness to ones who were caught up in brokenness through no fault of their own.

As Karoline Lewis points out, Jesus’s Gospel dared to stand up to supposed authorities. His Gospel challenged assumed power which had never been earned. His Gospel ripped apart the barriers and boundaries and borders that separated people from God. His Gospel tore down walls rather than insisting on ways to build them. With His Gospel the dead didn’t even stay dead! [4]

But “there are risks in identifying the forces of evil and of God in contemporary struggles…,” writes Cynthia Briggs Ketteridge, “specifically, [and] particularly if one assumes oneself and ones’ own “people” to be on the side of God.” [5] Ones of us preaching out of positions of privilege or into communities with political and economic power must be careful about making that assumption. As Kettridge points out, “the community that performed and heard Mark’s gospel, was powerless and poor in a country occupied by a powerful empire. The theological imagination of the victory of God’s power over illness, disability, and danger was for them, lifesaving good news.”[6] The mere reminder that we can choose what kind of unpredictability, instability, and incomprehensibility we let ourselves get caught up in is for our time lifesaving good news!

But there is another risk. “…[ones] of us who decide to go about in the world, insisting that God is even for the unclean spirits, or for [ones] whom others have determined are unclean, will be suspect. After all, once God is really for everybody, well, there goes merit-based immigration. There goes regulation of pulpits. There goes justified discrimination. And there goes our own deep desire to make claims about God that are created in our own image.”[7]

Our Scripture readings today “provoke us to stop assuming that “the way things are” must always equal “the way things have to be.” The reign of God promises more, whether the “more” can be realized now”[8]

“In this first skirmish, Jesus prevails, but not without the unclean spirit protesting and acting out.”[9] By the end of Mark, the forces of evil launch an all-out campaign to silence and immobilize Jesus in death. “… the world’s response was to crucify that Gospel.” [10] But Jesus won’t stay dead, because who God is (attributes) and what God does is wonderful, and powerful, and bigger than death!

Psalm 112 reminds Israel that the same honorable attributes and wonderful works that characterize God should also characterize them.

In John 14:12 Jesus told his followers, “The person who trusts me will not only do what I’m doing but even greater things, because I, on my way to the Father, am giving you the same work to do that I’ve been doing. You can count on it.^[11]

So why are we so afraid to take on demons – our own, or the forces of evil in the world? Why are we willing to give ones who act for evil so much power – power they’ve not earned, and that God’s people have the authority to call out?

As it did in Jesus’ day, the cosmic conflict between good and evil has a socio-political dimension. We can be sure that if we are on the side of the powerless and poor, the marginalized and the oppressed, we are on God’s side. God has a long history or championing the cause of the disadvantaged, the suffering and the victimized, of siding with ones who have lost “their ability to control their movements and their voices” and are being “immobilized”[12]

“What is this?!” really is the question of our time. Let us live in ways that put skin on the honorable attributes and wonderful works of God! When ones around us see what we are up to and how we are going about it, let them be amazed and exclaim, ““What is this?!” And we will reply, “This is what the Good News of Jesus for our day looks like!”

¹Praise the Eternal [One]! How blessed are [ones] who revere [God],
who turn from evil and take great pleasure in [God’s] commandments.
²Their children will be a powerful force upon the earth;
this generation that does what is right in God’s eyes will be blessed.
³[Their] houses will be stocked with wealth and riches,
and [God’s] love for justice will endure for all time.
⁴When life is dark, a light will shine for [ones] who live rightly—
[ones] who are merciful, compassionate, and strive for justice.
⁵Good comes to all who are gracious and share freely;
they conduct their affairs with sound judgment.
⁶Nothing will ever rattle them;
the just will always be remembered.
⁷They will not be afraid when the news is bad
because they have resolved to trust in the Eternal One.
⁸Their hearts are confident, and they are fearless,
for they expect to see their enemies defeated.
⁹They give freely to the poor;
their righteousness endures for all time;^[^b^]
their strength and power is established in honor.
¹⁰The wicked will be infuriated when they see [good people] honored!
They will clench their teeth [pause] and dissolve to nothing;
and when they go, their wicked desires will follow.[13]

[1] Watkins, Mohr, and Kelly. Appreciative Inquiry: Change at the Speed of Imagination. p. 2

^[2] Language made inclusive and adapted from Peterson, E. H. (2005). The Message: the Bible in contemporary language (Ps 111:1–10). Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress.

[3] Nancy deClaissé-Walford. https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=232

[4] Adapted from Karoline Lewis. http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5047

[5] Cynthia Briggs Kittredge. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3535

[6] Cynthia Briggs Kittredge. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3535

[7] Karoline Lewis. http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5047

[8] Matt Skinner. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2343

[9] Cynthia Briggs Kittredge. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3535

[10] Adapted from Karoline Lewis. http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5047

^[11] Peterson, E. H. (2005). The Message: the Bible in contemporary language (Jn 14:12). Colorado Springs, CO: NavPress.

[12] Cynthia Briggs Kittredge. http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3535

[13] Psalm 112, The VOICE

A Different Response

by Abigail Conley

I sat with my dad in his pickup truck as the traffic lights turned red, green, and yellow, with no one moving. The radio announcer reminded us, “We’re observing a moment of silence for Deanna McDavid and Marvin Hicks.” Well, it was something like that. I was eight or nine years old. I don’t remember the details—not really—but I remember sitting there at that light, waiting. Something had changed.

The day a high school student shot and killed his English teacher and school custodian was not long past. The high school was the closest one to my home, though in a different county. In that part of the world, that meant a different school district. I vaguely remember us being held in classes a little longer that day, school officials not yet ready to run the buses, not yet sure what was happening. The school was at most twenty minutes away, far closer than the high school in the same district.

This was long before the days of visitor logs, school metal detectors, or even locked doors. The back door to the boiler room at my school was most always propped open in the winter, cooling the janitor who also shoveled coal into the furnace. On nice days, the doors at the end of the hallway would be propped open, too, letting a breeze blow through the building. It seems visitor logs, school metal detectors, and locked doors haven’t solved the problem.

The school shooting I remember was twenty-five years ago, in January of 1993, also in Kentucky. It shocked the community, of course. If I were older, I’d probably remember what the school did in response. As is, I just remember that day in my dad’s pickup truck. I do remember other tactics schools used to keep us safe. We had fire drills and earthquake drills and tornado drills. Window shades were drawn to protect us from seeing the helicopter landing on the school playground, carrying the father of one of the students to a hospital where he would die. We stayed crouched in the hallways for the better part of an afternoon as tornadoes threatened.

None of that created the fear I’ve seen in kids now, especially those in 6th or 7th grade. They’re old enough to know what’s going on, but not old enough to make any sense of it. The truth is, I don’t know if they’ll ever be able to make sense of it. These aren’t the kind of things I want them to make sense out of.

Pastors are used to reminding people that the phrase that appears most often in the Bible is, “Do not be afraid.” We usually see that as prescriptive for how we approach a world that can be terrifying. Storms rage, but God remains—that’s at least one of the stories we tell.

Our modern world is different, though. We have control over so many of the things that we liken to the storms. It’s even absurd to say, “Do not be afraid,” to someone who has a gun pointed at them. How instead do we say wholeheartedly to each other, “Do not be afraid,” because we have created a reign that doesn’t merit fear?

“Jesus said, ‘Do not be afraid.’” isn’t the right response to hunger, or homelessness, or broke people, or gun violence. We have the power to calm those storms, to remove the threat that causes fear. I wonder how we are learning to cry out, as Jesus did, “Peace, be still.”

If we learn that, maybe towns won’t stand still for moments of silence.

There Is Hope for The Last Jedi… and for All of Us

by Ryan Gear

Reviews of the latest installment of the Star Wars saga The Last Jedi are as mixed as U.S political opinions, but one thing is certain. As much as the galaxy far, far away needs hope, we need it too. With a culture war raging in the U.S. and a resurgence of fascism in Europe, the Dark Side seems to be winning in our world at the moment.

As a people, we seem to be aware that we are trapped in a tragic time in history, and we need a spark of hope. Like the seven previous episodes, The Last Jedi is a great modern example of Greek tragedy. In his foundational work on drama, Poetics, Aristotle instructs that one of the features of a tragedy is that the main character possesses a tragic flaw.

The tragic flaw is a character deficiency or a mistake that leads to the main character’s downfall, and that downfall creates suffering both in the character’s life and usually in the lives of those around them. The first six episodes of Star Wars follow the life trajectory of Anakain Skywalker who becomes known as Darth Vader. His tragic flaw is obvious— for a combination of reasons he turns to the Dark Side of the Force. Brilliantly, he is also a physically flawed character who is so deformed by his choices that he needs his suit to live, move, and breath. Those first six episodes could be titled “The Tragedy of Anakin Skywalker.”

Similarly, in the latest two episodes, like his grandfather before him, Kylo Ren is a character with a tragic flaw. He wants to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, Anakin, and a turn to the Dark Side is a necessary choice. In The Last Jedi, we see Kylo Ren’s tragic flaw contrasted primarily with the pure character and choices of Rey. She is a light to his path, and we can’t tell whether he is in love with her or only wants to use her power to accomplish his plans. The tragedy of Kylo Ren is unfolding in a way that will make Episode 9 interesting, and possibly just as controversial.

Aristotle’s Greek word for this tragic flaw is hamartia (pronounced Ha-MAR-tia). It was originally an archery term for when an arrow misses its mark and falls short of its target (an ancient form of an “airball” in basketball). About 400 years after Aristotle, the word finds its way into the books and letters of the New Testament, also written in Greek. English translations of the Bible translate hamartia as the word “sin.” And like a basketball feels heavy to a child who can’t even make it reach the rim, sin is a heavy word.

Hamartia can be both individual and collective. A woman in a church I pastored shared with me one time that she was the “sinner of her family.” She grew up in a church-going, 1950s, pure-as-the-driven-snow environment, but she was the black sheep who transgressed the boundaries. In other words, she had sex before marriage and a child out of wedlock.

She felt like the worst person in the world because the people she loved the most defined her by a decision she made in her youth. It’s as if she wore a scarlet letter to all family functions, and the word sin became a soul crushing word that made her wince whenever she heard it in a sermon (despite her family’s disappointment, she was a regular church attender all of her life).

Collective hamartia is a description of the human condition. We live in a fallen world of conflict, turmoil, and an uncertain future, and we all play a role in the drama. Yes, our world leaders influence global conditions far more than the common person, but we all share collective responsibility more than we would like to admit— as voters, as citizens, and as “actors” in our everyday lives.

If you feel like the sinner of your family, or if in your most reflective moments you feel heavy guilt and wonder if there is hope for your spiritual life, the biblical meaning of hamartia might be helpful here. In the same way, an understanding of collective hamartia and its role in our society might also be the spark that gives hope to our galaxy.

In Aristotle’s definition of a tragedy, and in the Bible, the tragically flawed character is not the worst person in the story. Think about it— Emperor Palpatine is the evil, Satan-like presence in the first six Star Wars films. Compared to the Emperor, Darth Vader is a sympathetic character. In fact, we feel pity for Darth Vader throughout the series, because he is a man who was deceived and manipulated by Palpatine. Even in his rage and hatred for rebels, Darth Vader loves his children. He protects them from the Emperor, and in that climactic moment in The Return of the Jedi, he turns to the Light and throws Emperor Palpatine into a reactor to save his son. The conflict within Kylo Ren is just as pronounced, and we feel pity for him compared to the absolute evil of Supreme Leader Snoke.

I’m going to guess you’ve never murdered an entire village with a lightsaber, so you’re no Darth Vader or Kylo Ren, let alone the Emperor or Snoke. Maybe you transgressed the moral boundaries of your family or your church. Like every human being alive, you have not always acted in love toward your fellow humans. You’ve made mistakes, just like I have, and just like every other person. Those flaws and choices are damaging. They are serious, and they do have consequences. However, the tragic flaw does not mean that you are irredeemable or a hopeless case.

Similarly, the collective hamartia of our world is an outgrowth of individuals missing the mark, the cumulative brokenness of all of us throwing up moral and spiritual airballs. If individual hamartia does not make one an irredeemable monster, then collective hamartia does not damn our world to repeat the same needless conflicts that create the same absurd misery for so many.

An understanding of hamartia insists our world is not a hopeless case. In The Last Jedi, while Luke Skywalker has resigned himself to Kylo Ren’s turn to the Dark Side, Rey protests his fatalism by saying, “His choice is not made. He can be turned.” Regardless of how Kylo turns out, perhaps we as a people are not doomed to wallow in a cyclical view of history that expects a return to fascism every few generations.

The New Testament author who is most known for his use of the word hamartia is Paul. He observes both the individual and collective definition of hamartia. In Romans 3:23 he argues that “all have sinned (hamartia)” and in Romans 5 that the consequences affect all people collectively because of it.

Paul experienced personal redemption. According to the New Testament accounts, prior to his conversion he presided over the arrest and even murder of Christians he persecuted. Hamartia does not mean you have to wear a scarlet letter to family functions or view yourself as an evil character God cannot stomach. You are not the devil. Sometimes even Lebron James tosses up an airball, and the hamartia in your life means that you’re human in need of God’s grace.

In the same way, the human race is not evil incarnate either. Our future is not decided. Our choice is not made. World history can be turned. From a Christian perspective, Paul insists that Jesus Christ’s “righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people,” and that gives us a continual hope that things can made better[i]

Basketball players can increase their field goal percentage. Darth Vader can turn to the Light. Kylo Ren might too— we’ll see. Like the once-controversial The Empire Strikes Back, eventually most Star Wars fans will probably approve of The Last Jedi (there is even hope for flawed movies). In an atmosphere of forgiveness, grace, and resulting self-acceptance, we as individuals can learn to make better choices over time, and we are redeemed, both personally and collectively.

So, as we enter the New Year, here’s to holding out hope for all of us. Hamartia is a tragic flaw in otherwise decent people, and together we can write our comeback story. Yes, our world condition is serious… and for a Christian that is exactly what makes the Good News such great news, in fact. It is the great news that redemption is possible for even the most flawed of characters. It’s even greater news that redemption is available to all of us together, and consequently, there is hope for our world.

[i] Romans5:18b