Taking a Risk on the Beatitudes

On a number of occasions I’ve been privileged to visit a hillside that gently slopes down to the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee.  The ruins of ancient Capernaum, the town of Peter, are just below.  This is a beautiful and evocative place.  Jesus walked these hills, lived with these people, teaching in their synagogues, healing their sick and casting out their demons.  

And it was here on this hillside that he articulated a vision for a world very different from the one that either those ancient Galileans knew or the one we 21^st century moderns know today.  In this “sermon on the mount” Jesus said things that still startle us if we pause to consider them.  The meek, the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the merciful, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted—these are all singled out as the blessed. 

Let’s face it, in the world we live in today, peacemaking doesn’t seem very blessed, does it?  Neither do those who are poor in spirit, or merciful.   Does Jesus know how the ‘real’ world works?  Is this all some kind of ivory hilltop philosophy, disconnected from reality?  Or does Jesus know something deeper still?

Risk for me is living my life as if the Sermon on the Mount is real. It is believing that Jesus came to fix a broken world; to atone for our sin and give us life as it was meant to be lived, in communion with God and our fellow man; to make all things new; and to transform all who believe in him into agents of this grand work of reconciliation. 

In this world the pessimists have all the facts.  And might makes right.  And self-fulfillment is the key to happiness.  And it’s us vs. them, with an eye for an eye as the only means to insure our safety.  And he who dies with the most toys wins.  These maxims represent a direct counter to Jesus message, and you can understand why so many believe them to be true.  It’s risky to believe otherwise, and even more risky to act on that belief.   

But once long ago “the Word became flesh and made His dwelling place among us,”  and he enfleshed difficult truths so that we could see them lived and understand them.  Ever since there have been those who have been willing to risk comfort, safety, reputation, and life itself in their conviction that Jesus words were true.  And may we, in this day we have been given, risk such things, too, living as agents of a kingdom in which the poor in spirit, the peacemakers, and the meek are blessed.

Advent 2013: Leading with Love

Advent 2013

Leading with Love

This Advent reflection originally appeared in the Missio blog on the website of the Washington Institute for Faith, Vocation, and Culture. 

Surely we will remember 2013 as the year in which the Argentian Jesuit priest Jorge Mario Bergoglio single-handedly helped foster a different conversation between the church and the world.   His elevation to Bishop of Rome, taking the name Pope Francis, took the non-Catholic world by surprise, but nothing was more astonishing (and refreshing) than his decision to re-imagine what it means to be a highly visible Christian leader on the global stage.  

I’ve been struck by how many of my non-Christian friends have been so moved by Francis that they’ve taken to social media to post stories and photos of him as he demonstrates genuine concern for “the least of these.”   They find real beauty in this kind of love and humility.  No doubt this is what drew many to Jesus of Nazareth.

After his election as bishop of Rome, Bergoglio’s assumption of the name Francis was a first clue.  Then when he returned to his Vatican hotel to retrieve his luggage, thank the staff, and pay his bill, we could already see this was a different kind of pope. During Holy Week, he washed the feet of prisoners and of a Serbian Muslim woman.  Think of how shocked we all were that a Pope would act with such humility (then think how sad that this was shocking).  

The intervening months have been filled with captivating stories and photos of his humility and his concern for the ordinary and the outcast among us.  We marvel as he continues to eschew so many of the trappings of power, living simply and driving around Vatican City in a 1984 Renault 4 with 190,000 miles given to him by an elderly priest.

And yet how very fitting that a man who claims to follow Jesus would act with humility, would embrace the poor and the marginalized, would refuse to live within the boxes we’ve created.  Is he liberal? Is he conservative?  Is he traditional?  Is he a radical?  It’s hard to say.  And thank God for that.   These are confusing times to those of us who have invested ourselves in creating and maintaining the order and certainty that comes from hard lines, a monochromatic universe, ‘us vs. them’ paradigms.  For some religious people, he is a dangerous man, one worth keeping an eye on. 

All this just makes me think that in our polarized age, it sometimes seem like the Gospel has become very small, captive to the political, cultural and ideological struggles of our day.  And yet, if the Gospel is truly the good news Jesus proclaimed, then it must, without equivocation, be both relevant and transcendent in this and every age.  

What do I mean by that?  Ideas matter.  Culture matters.  Politics matter.  And the Gospel has much to say about each of these things.  But the Gospel is much too large, infused with too much mystery, freighted with too much hope and longing and meaning and beauty, to ever be fully captured by any ideology, any culture, any political party or national experiment.   If the Gospel is what it claims to be, it is relevant in every age, in every culture, but it is captive to none.  It is transcendent over all.   And if it’s not, it’s just one more idea in the market place, one more ‘way to live,’ one more set of ‘values.’  

Pope Francis seems to know this, to believe that truth is not relative and each generation of Christians has some obligation to steward that which has been passed down to them.  But at this stage of his papacy he is refusing to be drawn into our rigid frames.  And he has decided to emulate Jesus himself by spending time with those on the margins of polite society, resisting the trappings of temporal power, and incarnating a holy love for human kind.  

And so he goes about defending the sanctity of each and every human life; bringing good news to the captive; reaching out to the marginalized, the weak and the vulnerable; challenging the excesses of capitalism and the emptiness of materialism; and all the while holding firm to the orthodox faith handed down from the first apostles.  Attempting to incarnate a Gospel that is both relevant and transcendent. In short, he is leading with love.   

May Advent prayer is that I would find a way to understand the age in which I live and incarnate a Gospel that speaks into it but that also transcends it.  I pray that I would have the discernment to allow the truth of the Gospel to inform my views on politics, economics, vocation, history art, and culture, not the other way around.   And I pray that I would always lead with love. 

Ceasefire

Since the end of October I have worn a red and black piece of ribbon tied around my wrist with the words “It wont’ stop until we talk” printed on it.  I was asked to wear this by a good friend of mine named Robi, an Israeli mother whose son was killed by a Palestinian sniper while serving at a checkpoint in the West Bank.   I see her often on my frequent trips to Israel and the West Bank, and on this occasion she was with a Palestinian named Bisam whose 10-year-old daughter was killed by an Israeli soldier.  Just after I left them, events there once again dominated our headlines.  Yet it is easy for us to keep the violence at a distance.  We can cheer on “our side” in the conflict, whichever side that is, but this is no sporting event.  When wars are waged, the innocent die along with combatants and perpetrators.  Robi and Bisam have paid a price that is too high for any parent to be asked to pay.  Yet they refuse to demand that the deaths of their children be avenged, nor are they willing to allow them to have died in vain.  Together, and with other Israeli and Palestinian families, they cry out for an end to the violence and for a resolution that recognizes the dignity and humanity of all.  Their message is simple. This conflict will not be solved through rockets and bombs, but only through negotiations. 

To many this sounds naïve.  But as another Israeli friend of mine who lives in a farming community on the Gaza border once told me: it’s those Palestinians who fire rockets on her home thinking she and other Israelis will just go away who are naïve.  And it’s her fellow Israelis who think that if they just bomb Gaza “back into the Middle Ages” as an Israeli cabinet minister has suggested, the Palestinians will just give up and move to another Arab country, who are also naïve.

Both sides have those who look at the brokenness, at the insecurity, injustice, and hopelessness around them and draw the conclusion that violence is the only way.  And while the pessimists may have the facts, those who believe in a moral universe know that their own future is best secured when you take into account the humanity of the other.

No doubt, there are those on both sides who do not want peace at the price of accommodating the other.  They’ve had center stage far too often. These are the maximalists who insist that only their demands are legitimate; justice and security for them is only for them.  But there are Israelis and Palestinians who realize they are neighbors, who understand the other is not going away, and even some who recognize that justice and security for one requires justice and security for the other.   There are those who preference life over death, building over destruction, dialogue and compromise over rockets and bombs.  

Warning sirens, bomb shelters, safe rooms, and rocket attacks have become normal in southern Israel for some time now.  Insecurity is the new normal. These are facts that must not be ignored.  Closure, blockade, isolation, and humiliation are normative for Gazans.  Neither can this be ignored.    

A ceasefire is currently in place, and a true ceasefire was desperately needed, yet if it is not followed up with an attempt to address all activities that perpetuate the conflict (and there are many) and honestly try to resolve them, it will be but postponing the next round.  Because, as my friend Robi says, “it wont’ stop until we talk.”  But the talking has to be accompanied by and lead to action. Core issues have to be addressed, with security, freedom, legitimacy, justice and dignity for all as the aim.  Violence in the Middle East is not a video game.  Real people suffer and die.  If there are any wise leaders here or there they will find a way do the hard work of conflict resolution now while there is calm. 

The Greatest is Love--A 9/11 Reflection

I've always thought this song captured something really important about that day now 11 years ago, the shaping event of a generation. I listen to it from time to time and am convinced that appeal of this song is two things: the way it reminded us of our common humanity, and its core message--that the greatest power in the world is love. Which is not to say that evil isn't real, hatred doesn't have its appeal, innocents don't die, and the world isn't broken. But as Alan Jackson paraphrases the Apostle Paul "faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us, and the greatest is love." As we confront hatred and evil in our day, in whatever form, we should never lose sight of the fact that there is no force more powerful than love.

The Status Quo Won't Hold

Here's the money quote from "The Rise of Settler Terrorism," an excellent Foreign Affairs piece written by Dan Bynum and Natan Sachs: "Almost everything related to the Israeli-Palestinian dispute involves complex tradeoffs and sorting through opposing and often equally legitimate claims."  No real peacemaking can ever take place without dealing honestly with mutually irreconcilable narratives.  But when we are willing to listen to more than one view of the conflict and treat both with respect, room is created to build a new future on the ruins of a broken past.  

The equally important lesson I draw is the way in which this piece undermines the assumption that the status quo in this long-unresolved conflict can hold.  As a wise American diplomat once said, there is no neutral gear in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  You're either moving forward and making progress or you are going in reverse. Lack of progress toward peace strengthens radicals on both sides.  And of course there are those who believe violence is a legitimate means to achieve their goals, but violence begets violence and will bring neither lasting peace or security to either the perpetrators or the victims.   Leaders on both sides must not only be quick to condemn the use of violence, but they bear equal responsibility to be about the urgent business of pursuing peace.   The status quo does not hold, and only by providing a vision for a better future, one that finds a way to accommodate the legitimate rights of two people with deep connections to the land, can those on both sides who desire to live in peace be strengthened and those who would use violence be pushed further to the margins of their respective societies. 

Embracing the 'Radical Middle'

My friend Chris Seiple is a brilliant guy and a very able communicator. He has a preacher’s gift for explaining abstract concepts simply, and he is a keen analyst and observer of the world we live in.   He often describes his work at the Institute for Global Engagement as attempting to create a “radical middle where citizens can be respectfully honest and agree to disagree (when necessary) while maintaining relationships.”  

As someone who is weary of the American culture wars, the deep polarization in our society, and the high levels of incivility in our discourse, I confess I’m drawn to another way, almost any other way, of bringing my deeply held views into the public square.  How do we live with deep differences and at the same time advance a common good?   How do we disagree on principle without demonizing those who hold opposite views?  

To me, this notion of the radical middle is central to navigating some of our thorniest challenges in America today.  And of course among them is one of the thorniest of all:  the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  Both sides have their partisans and both quickly apply a Hogwarts-like Sorting Hat to all who would dare enter into their club.  Either you are pro-Israel or you are pro-Palestinian, but you cannot possibly be both.  And yet what if this approach has actually helped perpetuate the conflict rather than resolve it?   What if we brought our pro-Israel and pro-Palestinian sympathies into the arena and discovered that they’re not mutually exclusive?  What if we created a ‘radical middle’ that would refuse to be drawn into the conflict but would instead look for constructive ways to end it?  What if to be pro-Israel is to be pro-Palestine? And what if the opposite is equally true?   That’s a radical middle ground that could transform a lot of brokenness both here and there.  

A Biography of the Holy City

In reading Simon Sebag-Montefiore’s Jerusalem: A Biography, I am reminded of Winston Churchill’s observation: “No two cities have counted more with mankind than Athens and Jerusalem.”  A city with over three thousand years of history, the story of Jerusalem is deeply connected to its location as a place where East encounters West and humanity encounters God.  Strategically insignificant and lacking in so many of the qualities and natural resources that have historically made a city great, Jerusalem compensates mostly by its proximity to the divine.

And while the divine is never far from Sebag-Montefiore’s grand and breezy survey of the city from the days of the Canaanites until today, his focus is on Jerusalem as crossroads, battlefield, and prize for conquerors.   The indigenous residents of Jerusalem—whoever they may be at any point in time—are rarely more than pawns in larger historical dramas and military campaigns. 

Interestingly, Sebag-Montefiore’s ancestor plays his own role in Jerusalem’s history.  The famous windmill just outside the Old City and behind the King David hotel was built by Sir Moses Montefiore.  Though he’s not always a great storyteller and his book suffers from lack of an experienced editor, for a sweeping history of the much disputed, much desired, much maligned city, Sebag-Montefiore’s book is worth reading.  Some will quibble with his assessments of the modern conflict between Israelis and Palestinians, but he makes a commendable attempt to extend fair treatment to both historical narratives and various points of view.