Not The Way It’s Supposed To Be: Seven Children Killed Each Day (eCrozier #195)

On October 25, 2013, in culture, sin, by bishopbenhase

After yet another school shooting at Sparks Middle School in Nevada, if it hasn’t become painfully clear to us by now, it should: We have an epidemic of gun violence in this country that’s worse than in all other democratic nations combined. Seven children die every day in this country from gun violence. Meanwhile, we haven’t taken any direct action to stop this epidemic. If seven children were dying each day from a deadly virus, we’d be pouring all our energy and effort into finding a cure. But yet somehow we’ve resigned ourselves and passively accepted these dead children as how our common life is supposed to be. News flash: This isn’t how God intends for us to live!

Life is supposed to be different than this and we’ve all contributed to making our common life incongruent with God’s desire. It matters not how small or great our part has been. Let me list some examples of what I mean: People aren’t supposed to throw trash out of car windows. Middle schoolers aren’t supposed to hand out birthday party invitations in a way designed to let the uninvited know they’ve not been invited. Sewanee students aren’t supposed to resent Southwestern North Dakota State A & M students for becoming Phi Beta Kappas when they didn’t. Married persons aren’t supposed to cheat on their spouses regardless of their current level of self-esteem. Politicians aren’t supposed to lie to us just because they know that’s what we want to hear. Industrial waste isn’t supposed to be dumped into the Savannah River. And children aren’t supposed to be killed by gun violence.

Life is supposed to be different than it is. But do we really believe that? I just offered a list of how life is supposed to be different than it is, but upon reading the items listed, I imagine some folks just said: “well, that’s just the way it is. Besides some things you listed aren’t really all that bad.” I agree that some items I listed are worse than others, but that’s not the point. The point is this: We’ve become desensitized to the reality that every one of these things I listed is a real sin against God, because each in its own way demeans, vandalizes, perverts, pollutes, or corrupts God’s desire for God’s creatures.

Jesus on the Cross is The Word from God that we humans have blown it; that we’ve messed up our lives and this earth sufficiently enough that we need a Savior to bail us out. Before the cross we humans could pretend that things weren’t all that bad. A few nips here, a few tucks there, and presto, just like with plastic surgery, everything would look good as new. The cross, however, lets us know that from God’s perspective we sinners just can’t fix ourselves. And, of course, to accept what I’ve written up until now, one has to first accept that there’s a God who knows how life is supposed to be.

If anyone is surprised or alarmed by my writing so particularly about sin and how life is supposed to be, then it’s only because we live in a time when so many people have forgotten that God can actually be outraged by our sin. But even so, we shouldn’t lose heart for I’ve written nothing but good news: Jesus shows us that how our lives are now isn’t how God desires us to live. God help us if we think that seven children dying every day from gun violence is actually what God desires. Now let’s do something about it.

+Scott

 
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The Sin of Racism Grows with Unspoken Words (eCrozier #182)

On June 14, 2013, in racism, sin, by bishopbenhase

This week we commemorate the 50th anniversary of the murder in Jackson, Mississippi of Medger Evers, the civil rights activist and NAACP leader. Mr. Evers had just returned home from a meeting late on June 12, 1963 when he was shot in the back and murdered as he got out of his car. When his children heard the shot, they did what they were trained to do: they ran and hid in the bathtub. Imagine growing up having that training and knowing the probability that people would try to kill your father?

Racism is, as some have called it, “America’s Original Sin.” It runs right through us all. There is no way to avoid it. My generation has seen segregation (I still remember a separate-but-not-so-equal swimming pool in my hometown that we to our shame called “The Inkwell”), and then desegregation, and then attempts at integration, and now, in many parts of our communities, re-segregation. 50 years after the murder of Mr. Evers we are still trying to get this right, to make this right, and we have not. There are doubtless many explanations for why we have not yet made this right. There are those who would offer political, or economic, or sociological, or psychological analyses as a way of explanation and each one of those might offer some insight or truth.

But as one who sees the world through the Biblical lens, I do not find any one of those explanations particularly compelling or complete. I think sin is the only truth that can adequately explain the persistence of racism after all these years. The truth of racism as a sin exposes such things like certain code language used by politicians. It explains the doggedness of the so-called “birthers” about our President. It reveals why so often we blame the other race for why racism persists. We are all guilty. Not one of us is innocent. Until that truth sinks home, we will never rid ourselves of this awful spiritual disease.

In the weeks after Mr. Evers’ murder in 1963, my parents left me with my paternal grandfather for the day. After lunch, he told me that now I could read so well, he wanted me to read the truth. So, he gave me a Klan pamphlet, told me to sit on the back stoop of his house, and read it. I did. The pictures showed men in white hoods and robes standing near burning crosses. As I was reading, my parents pulled their car into the driveway. My grandfather came to the back door, standing behind me. My father approached and saw what I was reading. Not a word was said by anyone, but much was communicated. My father quickly took the pamphlet out of my hand, threw it to the ground, put me in the car, and we drove off. It would be years before I would see my grandfather again. The topic was never allowed to come up again in my presence.

I now wish it had. For as disgusted as my father was in my Klan-member grandfather’s beliefs, he could not find a way later, when I was older, to discuss it with me. The sin of racism persists because we allow it to remain, unnamed, unexposed, and unspoken about. The power of this sin lies in the silence and shadows around it and our unwillingness to engage in honest conversations with one another. Naming the way it has shaped and molded us and asking God for the grace to amend our lives is the only hope we have that our children will not pass this spiritual malady on to their children.

+Scott

 
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Self-Mercy Shows God’s Mercy (eCrozier #166)

On February 22, 2013, in grace, sin, by bishopbenhase

Henry Ward Beecher, the great 19th Century Protestant preacher was about to deliver a lecture series on preaching at Yale, but was unsure of what to say. Maybe the erupting scandal in his personal life was giving him writer’s (preacher’s?) block? In his hotel room on the morning of the lecture, his life came crashing down. He was confronted, looking in the mirror, with the shame, vanity, and hypocrisy of his life. Frederick Buechner describes the scene this way:

When he stood there looking into the hotel mirror with soap on his face and a razor in his hand, part of what he saw was his own shame and horror, the sight of his own folly, the judgment one can imagine he found even harder to bear than God’s, which was his own judgment on himself, because whereas God is merciful, we are none of us very good at showing mercy on ourselves.

Buechner’s insight is searing. Such awareness of our own self-judgment is necessary for a truthful and faithful relationship with God as revealed in Jesus. My seminary chaplain, the Reverend Churchill Gibson, was full of wit and wisdom. He always preached the same sermon, entitled: “God Loves You!” About halfway through the sermon right before he’d get to the Gospel medicine that cures us, he inevitably offered the following words: “Well, sin being what sin is…” That was his way of getting to an admission of our lives as they truly are.

The Prayer of Manasseh tells us the truth: “I have sinned, O Lord, I have sinned, and I know my wickedness only too well” (BCP p. 91). OK, I get it. While I need reminding (daily) of my sin, I also need reminding (hourly) of God’s mercy given in Jesus. My self-judgment, which can be harsher than anything or anyone, can become a real roadblock to my discipleship. It can lead me to become a person who is hard and rigid, unforgiving and merciless to myself. And that, of course, leads me to share that “gift” with others.

I know people who appear to me as merciless. Maybe they’re not that way always, but it is how they show themselves to me. They seem angry all the time. They seem to have contempt for other people’s sins and believe that those bad people just get what they deserve. My hunch is that such merciless people are full of self-contempt. They seem unable to love their neighbors, or to show mercy to them, because they’re unable to love or show mercy to their closest neighbor, themselves. Their merciless judgment on others comes from their own merciless judgment on themselves. They have little compassion for others because they have little compassion for themselves.

The Good News of Jesus begins with the truth that I’m a sinner; that, as the Bible says, I’m “evil in the imagination of my heart.” Or as Buechner writes: When I look in the mirror what I see is at least in part “a chicken, a phony, and a slob.” But the Good News of Jesus is also, to be sure, that I am “loved anyway, cherished, forgiven, bleeding to be sure, but also bled for.” That’s the whole truth and without it we will never be people of love, compassion, and mercy.

+Scott

 
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Patraeus Scandal-Behavior as Old as the Bible (eCrozier #156)

On November 23, 2012, in sin, by bishopbenhase

The scandal involving General David Petraeus is both complex and tawdry, but at its core it’s simply the failure of one man to remain faithful to his wife and to his marriage vows. That’s a story that is at least as old as the Bible itself. Only General Petraeus might know why he broke his vows to his wife and to God. I write, “might,” because he just might be confused and at a loss about his own behavior. He might not even understand his own actions.

You will recall St Augustine’s own self-reflection on the pear tree incident in his youth. He could never really offer any other explanation for why he did it other than his own sinfulness. And, of course, we have St Paul writing in Romans 7 where he laments that he does not understand his own actions. He finds himself doing the very thing he hates. None of us can always give a ready explanation for why we sin.

But how could someone who was the Director of the CIA be so clueless and reckless. After all, a man in his position had to know that seemingly anonymous and private email addresses could easily be tracked back to their source. He had to know that such tracking technology was readily available. So how could he have been so clueless and reckless in his behavior? Here’s the best answer I have: He lives in a bubble in which powerful people so often live.

Such a bubble so warps their judgment that they reach one of two equally outrageous conclusions: (1) The morality that applies to other, lesser people does not apply to them. Or, (2) They somehow, because of their position of power, are immune from getting caught in their sin. General David Petraeus joins a long list of similar men who lived in this bubble: Senator Gary Hart, Senator Bob Packwood, President Bill Clinton, Congressman Bob Livingston, Congressman Mark Foley, Senator John Edwards, and Senator John Ensign. These are only some of our leaders over the last 30 years who apparently had this warped judgment from living in the bubble.

As I wrote above, this behavior is at least as old as the Bible. You will recall how King David deceitfully had his faithful soldier Uriah the Hittite, placed at the head of the battle, threby assuring he would be killed when the general ordered everyone but Uriah to retreat. King David did this to cover up his adulterous behavior and thus take Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba, as his own wife. Why would King David do such thing? The answer the Bible gives is clear: He was king and as king he assumed he had the power to get away with it. It was not until Nathan (his National Security Advisor) confronted him that he confessed his sin and asked God’s forgiveness.

Every time we witness such tragic, self-destructive behavior, there is always someone who shakes his head and asks: “When will we get morally right leaders so things like this stop happening?” But things like this won’t stop happening this side of heaven, because we are sinners. That does not condone the behavior, to be sure, but it does explain it. We are sinners. And that truth, too, is as old as the Bible.

+Scott

 
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Good Friday Meditation (eCrozier #130)

On April 6, 2012, in gospel, humility, salvation, sin, by bishopbenhase

We have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. (Hebrews 10:10)

Conventional wisdom says: “Don’t let things go to your head.” That usually refers to people who, because of their circumstances, might think of themselves more highly than they ought to think. It’s a way to keep one grounded with one’s ego in check. Yet, we should let some things “go to our heads,” for we remember Jesus, not sentimentally to eulogize the great deeds of his life or gruesomely to have a morbid fascination with the mechanics of crucifixion. Rather, we remember Jesus’ work on the cross. Jesus’ cross reminds us that we’re a “sanctified” people. We have been made holy in God’s eyes. Note this is in the passive mood. We have not made ourselves holy. That’s not our realm of competency or authority. God has done this for us without our permission and foreknowledge.

I imagine we don’t often think of ourselves as especially holy people. If we did it might “go to our heads.” Well, it ought to go to our heads, not so we can feel superior to others, but so we can live into God’s love and desire for us. God has made us a holy people for a reason. Our holiness isn’t a badge of honor we wear in order to exclude others, but rather it’s a way of life we receive and adopt so we can invite others to live into God’s love and desire for them. Being made holy means being so humbled by God’s love on the cross that we humbly invite others to join us in this holy life. We’re merely “beggars showing other beggars where to find food.” We should let that go to our heads.

This is accomplished “through the offering of the body of Christ.” Jesus in his life and death doesn’t offer us mere words of wisdom or secrets for successful living. Jesus offers up his body. In Dickens’ The Tale of Two Cities, Charles Darnay ends up on the gallows saying: “it is a far, far better thing I do now than I have ever done before.” Jesus will have none of that. He’s there to offer up his body as a sacrifice for our sin. Modern people are often put off by the bodily image of Jesus on the cross. But offering his body showed the depth of God’s love for us. Jesus wasn’t concerned about putting his reputation on the line. His concern was for us and he offered his body to prove it. In our discipleship as a people made holy by God, we need to be less concerned with our reputations, less captivated by our words. We should let that go to our heads as well.

And this is “once for all.” As people made holy by Jesus’ cross, we still can find ourselves in despair of our sin. No matter where we are or who we are, sin lies close at hand. We should take that reality seriously, but we shouldn’t take ourselves too seriously in that reality. Jesus died for the sins of the world, “once for all.” He doesn’t need to die again each time we sin. That’s giving sin way too much power in our lives. We must be bold enough to live like our sins have been forgiven, that the death Jesus died, he died, once for all. In the words of that old Gospel hymn “It’s been done.” That’s why our sin should never lead us to despair. And that’s why we’re liberated so we can dare to be holy people. Jesus died for our sins once for all. We should let that go to our heads as well.

+Scott

 
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eCrozier #126

On March 9, 2012, in culture, gospel, love, sin, by bishopbenhase

St Paul writes in Romans: “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” Even though we sin against God and defy God, God still loves us. But why? People who don’t think about that question probably haven’t given much attention to their sinfulness. If we think that we’re basically OK, that we’ve done nothing to draw us away from God, then it wouldn’t make any sense to wonder why God loves us. We’d conclude that God should love us because we deserve nothing less – we’re that lovable.

So, our question wouldn’t be “why?” but rather “why not?” For this question to gnaw at us, we must know ourselves to be separated from God by our sin. I fall into this category. Like the writer, Frederick Buechner, I see the Gospel of Jesus as bad news before I see it as Good News. Buechner writes: “The Gospel is the bad news that we are sinners; that we are evil in the imagination of our hearts; that when I look in the mirror each morning what I see, at least in part, is a chicken, a phony, and a slob. That’s the bad news.”

I don’t share this so some people might have the satisfaction of saying: “I just knew bishops were like that.” No, I share it because it’s the truth. But I also share it with some concern because we live in a culture where people have lost the capacity to hear such truth. People love to hear celebrities talk about how awful they were, how addicted they were, etc. There’s a certain voyeurism in our obsession with other people’s sin. But that’s not the real problem. The real problem is that there’s no repentance in such talk. It’s merely a way for people to say: “Isn’t that just awful.”

So, when I agree with Frederick Buechner that I too am “a chicken, a phony, and a slob” you might be tempted to say: “Isn’t that nice, I saw someone like that on Oprah once.” But it’s not the same. That’s why I’m concerned with letting you know what I see when I look in the mirror. Not because you’d discover I was a sinner – good Lord, that’s not news – but because I run the risk of placing my bad news (and yours) in the wrong context, namely Oprah and not the Bible.

We must place our bad news in the proper context: The Gospel of Jesus and not our culture. The Gospel can only be good news after we first face the bad news. As Buechner writes: “The Gospel of Jesus Christ is the news that we are loved anyway, in spite of our sin – that we’re cherished by God, forgiven, bleeding to be sure, but also bled for.”

But why does God love us anyway? The Bible never says why. It’s as if that’s a ridiculous question even to ask. The Bible assumes that it’s simply God’s very nature to love us.

In the middle of the 20th century, the great theologian, Karl Barth, was taking questions from a group of seminarians in Chicago. One seminarian wanting to show off asked Barth to tell them the greatest truth of the Christian faith. Barth smiled and said, “Jesus loves me this I know, cause the Bible tells me so.”

+Scott

 
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eCrozier # 32

On April 28, 2010, in other religions, sin, by bishopbenhase

Stephen Prothero, a religion professor at Boston University, in his new book, God is Not One: The Eight Rival Religions That Run the World–and Why Their Differences Matter, makes a point that seems obvious, but nevertheless still fails to register with so many people. Prothero argues that the religions of the world are quite different and come at their understanding of the divine and the human condition from dissimilar assumptions. For example, some religions do not hold that there is a God or that this God is actively engaged in human affairs. Some do not see a need for salvation and thus do not view sin as a concept worth considering. To argue then, that all religions are basically the same and seek the same end for human beings is to denigrate the particular religion in question as well as simply to deny reality.

Liberal Christianity in the last generation has jumped on this bandwagon. Karen Armstrong, author of A History of God, and others have played up what religions have in common while playing down the real differences. The Dalai Lama, who many Christians get all doe-eyed over, has claimed that: “all major religious traditions carry basically the same message.” He of all people should know better. Now don’t get me wrong. I have enormous respect for the Dalai Lama’s moral leadership. And Karen Armstrong is a gifted and provocative writer. But by holding to their contentions about religion, they are doing no one any favor and, as Prothero argues, makes understanding the real differences among religions all the more difficult.

For example, Christianity holds that the human problem is one of sin: thoughts and behavior that separate us from God and from God’s intention for creation. The solution we proclaim is salvation from sin accomplished by Jesus, the incarnate God, in his death and resurrection. While Muslims and Jews do speak of sin (but we should know not in the same way as Christians do) neither religion describes salvation from sin as a core message like we do. Likewise, the Nicene Creed is not just a variation of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism or the Shahadah of Islam.

This has real implications for us as Christian leaders. To practice the Christian faith makes no sense unless we understand the human condition of sin as a reality. The death and resurrection of Jesus is God’s remedy for the reality of human sin. Not everyone, of course, believes that human sin is a problem that needs a solution. We do our people a disservice when we are not clear with them about the uniqueness of the Christian faith and its understanding of both the human predicament and God’s response. Such a proclamation of uniqueness is not a denigration of other religions. We can certainly learn from what they have to offer. But it is to insist that sin being what sin is, only Jesus offers the world salvation from it. The movement toward religious relativism sounds high and noble, but it is wolf in sheep’s clothing.

+Scott

 
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