Canon Lynell Walker’s post last night speaks beautifully of her desire for “company on the journey,” company that can afford accountability and encouragement. This morning, I experienced some good company we can all share. The Episcopal Church has suggested Bible readings for every weekday called a “Daily Lectionary.” You can link to the ones for this week through http://www.satucket.com/lectionary/1advent2.htm . I love the psalms. They capture poetically feelings that recur in all human experience, including feelings of despair. Somehow, just knowing that generations preserved them by speaking them over and over before they were ever written down speaks loudly to me that the feelings they capture can all be survived. All those generations want us to know that despair is a place on the journey, not the end of the journey. Today’s readings include this portion of Psalm 39:
4‘Lord, let me know my end,
and what is the measure of my days;
let me know how fleeting my life is.
5You have made my days a few handbreadths,
and my lifetime is as nothing in your sight.
Surely everyone stands as a mere breath.
6 Surely everyone goes about like a shadow.
Surely for nothing they are in turmoil;
they heap up, and do not know who will gather.
The same generations who preserved these verses also preserved this portion of Psalm 28, another recommended reading for today:
6Blessed be the Lord,
for he has heard the sound of my pleadings.
7The Lord is my strength and my shield;
in him my heart trusts;
so I am helped, and my heart exults,
and with my song I give thanks to him.
It gives me encouragement to know that all those generations knew both despair and awe at God’s faithfulness. It will help me walk through today with eyes that seek signs of God’s stubborn resolve to keep creating until harmony reigns.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Violence
It's hard to know what to do when faced with topics like war or world peace. I don't have the mind or access to information that would make any comment worth the ink it would take to print it. I catch glimpses from the media but those ideas belong to someone else. I can't take ownership, I can only mimic and repeat them when pressed to look intelligent before others. The question for me, in the midst of this global mess, is to find my truth, to speak to what I know, and to make choices that are consistent with my values. Jesus, to me, represents the best of all spiritual ideologies. I believe that whatever is true in other religious traditions can be found in Jesus. I have chosen to make a life study of his teachings. "Pray for your enemies" and "Forgive seventy times seven" is enough to chew on for a lifetime. Is that enough? Will that turn swords into plowshares? Where am I single-minded and where do I want peace and bare arms at the same time but in different stories? Where do I find viewing violence on the big screen a form of recreation while praying for peace in the Middle East on Sunday? Where am I enraged for not being heard and rattling off the Lord's Prayer within minutes of each other? So what do I KNOW? I KNOW that nothing in this world is outside God's loving embrace. I KNOW that God made love my/our basic instinct. I KNOW that when I am in harmony with myself and my neighbor I find joy; and when I am at odds with myself and my neighbor I am at a place of dis-ease. The kick for me is accountability. I need someone to take the journey with me, someone who treasures honesty, someone safe, someone who won't give up. I believe the choices I make for good or ill do affect the situation in Iraq, and Darfur, and Canada too. In thirty minutes or so this day will end. What choices for good remain this night?
Onward Christian Soldiers?
In the Fall of 2006, Canon Kathleen Kelly and I wrote a series of commentaries for the Sacramento News and Review. This was the first and was written in early September.
Onward Christian Soldiers?
I met Jesus at West Point. It was my girlfriend (another cadet) who made the introduction. She sang in the choir. I went to church to impress her. And I heard about Jesus. It was the unconditional love that first caught my attention. Through the teachings of Jesus, I learned that God loved me, and loved everybody else. I learned about forgiveness and acceptance. I learned about a force in the world that was moving creation toward wholeness.
I drove tanks and fired anti-aircraft guns. I threw hand grenades. Blowing things up was exciting and exhilarating. In Bible study I read Jesus’ commands to love enemies. In Physics class I learned to graph the trajectory of an artillery shell.
It didn’t really seem crazy at the time. At West Point, soldiering was an honorable profession. We were to manage the use of violence so that peace was maintained with the fewest people harmed. We were trained to use the minimum amount of force necessary and to spare the lives of civilians. We were trained to disobey illegal or immoral orders. We had a moral obligation to protect others, even if it cost us our lives.
It didn’t seem crazy because we were the “good guys.” We trusted that our nation would go to war only as an absolute last resort. Our cause would be clearly just. Civilian deaths would be few and tragic. We would not torture.
Now it seems crazy. We are no longer the obvious “good guys.” We have invaded and destabilized a country without provocation and without international support. We had no good plan for stabilizing and rebuilding Iraq. We have killed countless (literally) women and children. Our poorly supported soldiers have tortured innocent Iraqis.
Each act can be explained or justified as a reasonable post 9/11 response. That does not make them right.
As a West Pointer and as a Christian, I am angry and heartbroken at how we have chosen to deploy our military. As a priest, I am concerned about the soul of our nation as we consider more military intervention. I am certain that the wisdom in our great religious traditions can help us find more creative and life-giving responses to terrorism.
-Brian Baker
Onward Christian Soldiers?
I met Jesus at West Point. It was my girlfriend (another cadet) who made the introduction. She sang in the choir. I went to church to impress her. And I heard about Jesus. It was the unconditional love that first caught my attention. Through the teachings of Jesus, I learned that God loved me, and loved everybody else. I learned about forgiveness and acceptance. I learned about a force in the world that was moving creation toward wholeness.
I drove tanks and fired anti-aircraft guns. I threw hand grenades. Blowing things up was exciting and exhilarating. In Bible study I read Jesus’ commands to love enemies. In Physics class I learned to graph the trajectory of an artillery shell.
It didn’t really seem crazy at the time. At West Point, soldiering was an honorable profession. We were to manage the use of violence so that peace was maintained with the fewest people harmed. We were trained to use the minimum amount of force necessary and to spare the lives of civilians. We were trained to disobey illegal or immoral orders. We had a moral obligation to protect others, even if it cost us our lives.
It didn’t seem crazy because we were the “good guys.” We trusted that our nation would go to war only as an absolute last resort. Our cause would be clearly just. Civilian deaths would be few and tragic. We would not torture.
Now it seems crazy. We are no longer the obvious “good guys.” We have invaded and destabilized a country without provocation and without international support. We had no good plan for stabilizing and rebuilding Iraq. We have killed countless (literally) women and children. Our poorly supported soldiers have tortured innocent Iraqis.
Each act can be explained or justified as a reasonable post 9/11 response. That does not make them right.
As a West Pointer and as a Christian, I am angry and heartbroken at how we have chosen to deploy our military. As a priest, I am concerned about the soul of our nation as we consider more military intervention. I am certain that the wisdom in our great religious traditions can help us find more creative and life-giving responses to terrorism.
-Brian Baker
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