Lent Series : Our Nonviolent Jesus in A Violent America -- 1 of 5
Scripture: Luke 4:1-13
Central Theme:
Our dominant discourse and culture in America premises and orients our spiritual
reactions violently: toward an omnipotent God – a lover of power.
We are called by
Jesus instead to orient ourselves nonviolently:
toward a fully
present God – the power of love.
Two
decades ago – a full generation – this year. Before
Newtown … Before the War in Iraq, and before that (and still today) in
Afghanistan … Before 911 …
Twenty
years ago, before over 600,000 Americans were killed by gun violence in our own
land – that’s over 30,000 annually … and our military expenditures nearly
tripled, till now it is greater than the next 20 countries combined …
Twenty
years ago – in 1993 – a Methodist minister and professor, the late Walter Wink,
opened his opus magnum called Engaging the Powers with these blunt words:
“Violence is the ethos of our times. It
is the spirituality of the modern world.”
Strong
stuff, then -- and a bit of a downer, perhaps. Twenty years later, however: I wonder if Wink is really on to something?
What
strikes me as even more compelling is how Wink then frames this dominant
spirituality of violence in our world with a term I would like all of us to
remember for this Lent series to come. What is operating among us, Wink writes,
is a powerful force known the Myth of Redemptive Violence.
As Wink puts it,
the Myth of Redemptive Violence is the persistent belief that violence can somehow
redeem violence.
That, if we only armed ourselves in our daily lives with the right comeback, if
we only equipped ourselves with the right gun or guns, if we only wrung every
last drop of blood out of the tortured body of Jesus on the cross so that the
world would be saved … then possibly – just possibly – we could redeem the world
for good.
Sound strange?
And yet, that’s how many in the church have been telling the story for ages. That Jesus had
to be crucified on that cross for us to achieve the peace of eternal salvation
– not that the cross was inevitable, but that the most gruesome violence
imaginable was necessary. That tenacious myth that violence can redeem violence
– in our church as well as our culture –has translated, to this day, into the perpetual
notion that we have to fight one more battle each day in our lives or one more
war each decade in our country in the undying hope of making our world safe for
peace.
And yet: How hopeful is that? How healing – how joyful – can such an endless cycle be?
Funny
how the Myth of Redemptive Violence seems to have eclipsed the Bible’s
beginning – in Genesis 1 – that God created everything, and it was all good. For
if we truly embraced that all was deemed good, how could we think any violence could
redeem it? Why, instead, wouldn’t a
nonviolent way serve the cause of redeeming the disruption? A peaceful way we
can all participate in – and not a crucifixion we somehow feel a need to
re-create?
So
that’s our Lenten task – and that’s our Lenten promise. Not to listen for and
hear and incorporate in our lives the violence of the cross courtesy of the
powers and principalities on the other end of Lent. Our task and promise these
next five weeks is to listen for and hear and incorporate and rejoice in the nonviolent
way Jesus offers and teaches us – in full Communion, with him, and with one
other.
In short: The myth that it takes violence to redeem us persists – in our land, and in many others. Sadly, churches often cooperate: The violent coercion of the cross becomes “redemptive”, obscuring the nonviolent freedom of the way. And we, blindly, repeat that “redemption”, and there is no real peace.
All of which gives rise to this Lenten series: Our Nonviolent Jesus for a Violent America.
The
prepositional phrase “for a Violent America” does not mean to suggest that
violence in any way is the essence of America. Nor is a violent America being
lifted up as the focus of this series.
The
phrase “for a Violent America” simply reminds us that our own lived and fallen context
– part of “the spirituality of the modern world,” as Wink puts it – can and
will be redeemed by the good and joyful news of our true series focus: “Our
Nonviolent Jesus.”
For our nonviolent Jesus presents for us a Lenten spiritual path of peace opposite of what the world would teach us about redemption. For whether it’s in a Violent America or a Violent South Africa or a Violent Brazil or a Violent Belarus … these two spirits of violence and nonviolence fight for our souls each and every day. One of them whispering to us, “They call me Good Friday: produced and directed by the lovers of power! Only my violence will bring you peace!” The other responds, “I am your Lenten journey: produced and directed by the power of love. My peace be with you!”
Two
spirits; two gods. A stark contrast:
Which one do we
serve? Which one will you serve?
Today’s scripture story sets the stage for our response.
Jesus
has just been baptized. He has yet to begin his public ministry. It’s time for
his trial by desert fire. Which god will he
serve?
Forty
days: No food. Can’t relate? Let’s take this seriously and not literally, then:
This is a time we have all had in our lives. This is the time of greatest
vulnerability.
Three
temptations – which are ours, in our greatest times of trial. Three temptations
that speak peace, under violence’s clever cover.
Three
temptations, from the Lover of Power. Three responses, from one showing us the
Power of Love.
Temptation
1: Economic –
Love of Power: “Command this stone into
bread! You are God’s Son! Save yourself, man!”
Power of Love: “I’m saved already! Life’s
more than bread! I am free!
Temptation
2: Political –
Love of Power: “I want to give you all glory
and authority!”
Power of Love: “I want to pray and I want to
serve!”
Temptation 3: Religious –
Love of Power: “Throw yourself down. Throw yourself
at God’s mercy!”
Power of Love: “‘Throw myself?!’ God is here.
There’s no need to give God a test!”
Three
temptations: Economic, Political, Religious. So which God is ours? So which God
is yours?
The Violent Lover of Power: “Command! Glory!
Authority! Throw yourself down!”
Or the Nonviolent Power of Love? “Freedom! Prayer!
Service! God is already present!
So which God is
ours? Which God is yours?
The Violent Lover of Power – the authorities
of “Good Friday” – that insist on crucifixions as necessary for peace, to this
day?
Or is our God the Nonviolent Power of Love – the Communion
of Lent – that resists the crucifiers … always, nonviolently?
Lent celebrates
– as no other season does – an amazing story. A story where this rabbi we
claim to follow, time and time and time and again nonviolently resists the injustice
around him. Until one day, the powers of injustice perpetrate the most hideous
deed they could perpetrate against
him, to save themselves and to shut him up!
And
what is there to celebrate? In Lent, we celebrate that Jesus has unmasked the
violence of these powers – all the way up to their Final Solution – through the
intentionally nonviolent resistance to them he has lived. For in Lent, we celebrate
that the power of love exposes once and for all the lovers of power.
This dramatic
Lenten script – nonviolent power of love resisting violent love of power – is writ
large in human history, in the most extraordinary of ways. One I have seen writ small and yet in extraordinary
ways in my own life.
Participating
in a large nonviolent resistance at the Pentagon once – it’s a long and rich and
grace-filled story – I experienced seasoned, buff, highly-trained Department of
Defense police violently apprehending many, and then quaking in their boots as
they finally apprehended me for the same nonviolent action. One tugged gently
at my sleeve, then gave me handcuffs that fell off. Their fear and their
hesitance – I later learned – all had to do with the fact I was wearing a
clergy collar. Violent spirit on nonviolent spirit: Let’s just say the clergy
collar won!
And
then, I experienced the celebration of Lent while being tried with 35 others
for another nonviolent resistance –it’s the School of the Americas trial some
of you know about. One day in court, as were presenting our evidence, I witnessed,
five feet away, one of our prosecutors visibly shaking. Staring stoically
ahead, tears were pouring down this poor man’s cheeks.
And yet nowhere
is the power of love writ larger and more dramatically than in the ordinary
moments of everyday lives. Daily victories of Communion with God and with each
other we see fought and won every day, if we but pay attention.
Victories
beautifully observed by Morgan Freeman as God to Jim Carrey’s Bruce Nolan in
the 2002 film Bruce Almighty – God
saying thus:
Parting your soup (through the powers I have given you) is
not a miracle, Bruce, it's a magic trick. A single mom who's working two jobs,
and still finds time to take her kid to soccer practice, that's a miracle. A
teenager who says no to drugs and yes to an education, that's a miracle. People
want Me to do everything for them, but what they don't realize is, they have
the power. You want to see a miracle, son? Be the miracle.
We have the power, sisters and brothers. The power to
love, when the love of power would de-center us, all around.
You have the power. Be the miracle, to one another.
Let us be the miracle to each other now by serving Communion to one another today …
Charge and Blessing …
The body of Christ, broken: By unmasking the violence of
the powers that broke him, Jesus shows us no brokenness need be perpetrated
again.
The blood of Christ, poured: By unmasking the violence of
the powers that bled him, Jesus demonstrates that no bloodletting is necessary
in this world again.
Through his body
needlessly broken, and his blood needlessly spilled, the world’s greatest need
is ironically filled: The exposure for all the world to see two things:
(1) That the emperor has no clothes, and
(2) We can dress him for and invite him to
the party!