Lament and Forgiveness

Good Sunday morning, good people of the Sabbath. Happy New Year to all who observe and celebrate.

It's another bright-bright, sun-shiny day here on the Delmarva Peninsula. It's been a cool morning, temperature-wise. Fifty-six degrees when I woke up, but it promises to soar to the high 70s later today.

It's September in the Midlantic. This is just how we roll.

It's been a Very Interesting weekend in the news. Turns out, a senior staff advisor to The Former Guy and the Governor of South Dakota, a "God-Fearing Family Woman", who is married, have been having a years-long affair.

The Representative from the State of Colorado, another "good Christian woman," was also thrown out of the theater during a performance of Beetlejuice for vaping and mutual groping. She explained her current situation by saying that there's "no roadmap to work your way through a divorce" (BTW, from a husband who was in prison for flashing his penis in a public place at two young women, in the presence of his wife.)

I can hear that super low baritone voice of Bowser from Sha-Na-Na, singing in the background, "How low can you go?" Of course, he we singing about doing The Limbo but lately, it seems to be the theme song of a particular political party.

Over at the Lectionary Page, Jesus - that guy some preachers say, "may not come when you want him, but he's always right on time" - has done it again. Or, his scriptwriters have (I suppose when you write scripts for Jesus, you don't need a union so you don't need to be on strike).

Peter asks Jesus, “Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times."

I don't think that gives us a license to go out and sin again because, well, apparently we are compelled to forgive over and over and over again.

I mean, even Luther said, "Sin boldly, but love more boldly still."

I just re-read an essay written 5 years after the event, entitled, "I don’t forgive the man who murdered my cousin DePayne at Mother Emanuel," in Christian Century magazine by Waltrina N. Middleton.

I do have to repeat something she related: As her cousin and the others lay dead in pools of their own blood on the floor of the room where they had previously welcomed that young White man who had just studied scripture, prayed with them before opening fire and shooting them dead, the White police were driving him to the prison but first stopped off at the ("Have it your way") Burger King to buy him a hamburger and fries.

She writes:

"Imagine being beaten, raped, stolen away from your land, subjected to agonizing suffering—and then having your captors christen you in a chapel inside a slave castle. Five years ago, when domestic terror traumatized a church, culture, and community, the resonance of America’s past was exposed like strange fruit. The insistence on a narrative of “the family forgives” created a missed opportunity for a time of deeper truth-telling, reconciliation, and healing. How do you promote a narrative of forgiveness while ignoring the very roots of racism that perpetuated such horror?

We can be committed to love and radical hospitality, to welcoming the stranger into our midst, to extending a seat to join us at the table—while also maintaining our right to be angry and to righteously resist the violence against our humanity. To insist on a narrative of forgiveness is dehumanizing and violent, and it goes against the very nature of lament. As Christians we celebrate the donning of ashes and sackcloth as a priestly act of lamentation and mourning. Why deny families, in a watershed moment of grief, this right to lament?"

Five years before that, Roxane Gay wrote an Op-Ed in the NY Times entitled, "Why I Can’t Forgive Dylann Roof." She wrote:

"My unwillingness to forgive this man does not give him any kind of power. I am not filled with hate for this man because he is beneath my contempt. I do not believe in the death penalty so I don’t wish to see him dead. My lack of forgiveness serves as a reminder that there are some acts that are so terrible that we should recognize them as such. We should recognize them as beyond forgiving."

Seven times? asks Peter.

Seventy-times seven says Jesus.

I don't hear those words from Jesus as I once did; Jesus isn't talking about the value of forgiveness as much as He is talking about the process of forgiveness.

I think Jesus is placing more of a value on our lament as a process of forgiveness, opening the possibility that our lament may well be the only form of forgiveness we can offer.

Not only are there some crimes that are too horrific and hideous to be forgiven - especially the betrayal of hospitality and trust while reading scripture and praying - but also when the commitment to forgiveness is used as an excuse to continue to perpetrate violence on a particular race, or gender, or sexual orientation.

Seventy-times seven?

Maybe even that's not enough for some crimes.

Maybe our lament is the best we can do until the only forgiveness we can offer is simply to let it go so that carrying it around is more of a burden to us than the original pain.

But, not before serving notice that you will work with all your heart and mind and strength to make certain that it doesn't happen ever again to anyone of any color or gender identity, creed or ethnicity, age or sexual orientation.

And, on that note, I'm going to take my leave for the day. It's off to church for me where I am privileged to preside over the sacred mysteries.

Yes, there are many mysteries in life that are sacred, including lament and forgiveness, but this one has to do with how God offers spiritual food and nourishment to us all - saint and sinner. It's what we do with that mystery of faith that makes all the difference in the world.

Literally.

Off I go, then, to "practice" the mystery of forgiveness.

Make it a great day. Shana Tova!

Bom dia!

Christian Century article: https://www.christiancentury.org/article/first-person/i-don-t-forgive-man-who-murdered-my-cousin-depayne-mother-emanuel

NY Times article: https://www.nytimes.com/2015/06/24/opinion/why-i-cant-forgive-dylann-roof.html

 

Good Sunday Morning, good people of the universe. The thunder and rain and lightning last night and this morning are not Hurricane Lee which is still south of us. Apparently, this is a storm coming from the West, over the mountains. We'll just call this "John the Baptist Weather," preparing the way for "Lee the Hurricane."

I've been watching the birds at the bird feeder outside our sunroom windows. They are picking through the seed which is soaked with rain. You can almost hear them muttering about how they really prefer their seed dry and not soggy.

But, they still cluster and pick, even if they occasionally complain and mutter. They seem to be there more for the company than the seed.

Or, perhaps that's my projection.

I've been reading a lot, here and there, about "The Epidemic of Loneliness" that is affecting this country as well as many so-called civilized countries around the world.

Of course, social media is being blamed for everything. Of course. It is ironic that in an age when communication - personal, national, international, global - is the fastest it's ever been in history that there should be an epidemic of loneliness.

One fact struck me hard: A lie can circulate three times around the globe before the truth can be told.

Just let that sink in for a red-hot internet second in real-time.

I know that it is not unusual for people to mark the days of their lives by a catastrophe.

"Well, the town hasn't been the same since Hurricane Rita."

"We used to have lots of lovely novelty shops downtown, and cafes and boutique shops but all of that changed after the Recession." (Or, the factory left. Or, the mine closed. Or, the economy tanked. Or . . . . .)

I don't think this country has been the same since 9/11. I'm keenly aware of that anniversary tomorrow. Something besides buildings was destroyed. Naivete or a sort of innocence about This American Life. Trust, I think, went with it.

And, once again, I really don't want to talk about it.

And, maybe I should.

I'm remembering just now one trip, years ago, to Ghana. We were in a village way up in the north, in Tamale, as I recall. We visited a village of women who were celebrating and wanting to share with us their joy because a church in Great Britain had sent them the money to be able to put a pump into their well.

Now, they said, we no longer have to pull up water. Now, look! See? We can just pull down on this pump and - Oh joy, we've seen it a hundred times now and we can still hardly believe it - Look! The water flows so easily into our containers!

Never mind that those were 20 and 30-gallon containers which they then lifted up and put on their heads to carry bac on the 1 mile walk back to the village.

One of the women leaned into me and asked, "Do you have such a marvel in your village?"

"No," I said, trying to contain the quiet laugh that gave rise spontaneously at the thought. "No, you see, we have faucets and sinks that bring the water directly into our homes."

She gasped at the wonder of such a thing. "Yes," I said, "and that water can be hot or cold. We have separate faucets for each."

She shook her head in amazement. "You mean, the water is right there, in your home? You do not have to carry it or bring it back to your village?"

"Yes," I said, "that's exactly what I mean."

And then, a sudden sadness overtook her face. She looked at me with great pity and sorrow. "What is it?" I asked. She put her hand gently on my arm as if to express her sadness and sympathy for me.

"Oh," she said, "if the women do not go to the village well to get your water, how do you tell your stories?"

Ah yes. One of the great ironies of our time. The rich American woman was so poor all she had was money.

The great irony of our time is that technology has made it possible that we've never been better able to talk with each other. Unfortunately, I think we talk TO each other - indeed, many times, we talk AT each other - and not WITH each other.

I don't know if we are really able to have conversations of any substance via email or on social media or X (formerly known as Twitter). There's something about incarnational conversation that is powerful because, I think, we're more apt to share our stories and when we share our stories, something transformational happens.

In this morning's Gospel, we hear Jesus give instructions to his disciples about how they are to handle conflict in community, after which he reminds them, "...whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven."

There are consequences. There are always consequences. Side effects. Collateral Damage.

See also: Epidemic of Loneliness.

I don't know what would be a "metaphorical village well" where we can go and tell our stories. Maybe that's the church? It could be, again, if the institutional church were to realize how much trust has been eroded and work to restore that again.

Well, anyway, that's where I'm headed. To church. I'm delighted to be with the people of St. Philip's, Laurel, DE this morning. I am going to talk to them a bit about this Epidemic of Loneliness and introduce an idea that started in England.

It's called a "chatty bench" which are placed around towns to encourage spontaneous conversations. The church has just created a lovely "Prayer Cove" over at Old Christ Church, the pre-revolutionary war church on the other side of town where folks can go and be alone and in prayer.

I'm wondering if they might consider Newton's Third Law of Dynamics: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. What if, I wonder, the church put up a "chatty bench" outside the church or the library or the town hall as a place to encourage spontaneous conversations.

Just a little something with the name and phone number of the church and, perhaps, this: "For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

Maybe, if we created places where people could share their stories, well, who knows what might happen?

Off I go, then, to wonder and ponder and pray and, perhaps, share a story or two, call that a sermon, and hope for the best.

Make it a great day everyone.

Bom dia.

Labor Day: A FB Reflection

Good Monday morning, good people of the last day of the long Labor Day weekend.

Oddly enough, many people will spend most of this day in their car, driving for miles on long stretches of asphalt when they're not sitting for long minutes in heavy traffic on the hot asphalt with thousands of other people who just want to get home after two glorious days at the beach.

Some people call this a 'holiday'.

We are actually celebrating the importance of work and the dignity of workers.

The eight-hour work week began as a socialist dream (shhh . . . don't tell that to some of my 'summer neighbors' with their pontoon boats loaded with coolers of food and beer kegs they claim they can't afford because of "the economy", flying flags that say, "Let's Go Brandon" and "F**K Biden" and - no surprise - "Trump 2024".)

Welsh textile mill owner and social reformer Robert Owen is credited as the first person to articulate the 8-hour work day, by calling for “eight hours labor, eight hours recreation, and eight hours rest” for workers in 1817.

That never really took in the UK but on 19 May 1869, President Ulysses S. Grant issued a National Eight-Hour Law Proclamation.

The origins of Labor Day date back to the late 19th century, when activists first sought to establish a day that would pay tribute to workers. The first U.S. Labor Day celebration took place in New York City on Sept. 5, 1882.

Labor Day has been a national holiday in the United States since 1894. To many, it may signify picnics, parades, a day off from work, or the end of summer and the beginning of fall.

As the daughter and granddaughter of immigrants who were labor union organizers, I grew up with a different understanding of Labor Day which was infused with a sense of the dignity and value of work.

My grandmother instilled it in us from the time we were very young. You never - ever - wanted to be like some of the kids you went to school with who sat around their house and got bored - or (gasp), had the temerity to admit boredom.

And if, by chance, your grandmother should see you and be momentarily concerned that you were not well and ask, "What's wrong, flower?" and you should lose your damn mind and sigh and say, right out loud, "There's nothing to do" . . . .

. . . . . . . WELLLLL . . . .

I still regret the day I said that, so many decades ago.

"Nothing to do?!?!?" she'd say, "NOTHING TO DO?!?!?!?!?" she'd repeat, raising her voice to an ominous tone. "Oh, I think we can find SOMETHING for YOU to DO . . . ."

And, just like that, I'd find myself sitting under the dining room table with a bottle of Murphey's Oil Soap and a soft cloth, polishing in between the "toes" of the claw of whatever creature it was whose carved wooden foot held up the table.

While I was down there, my grandmother would be sitting above me at the table, getting a bag of peas ready for me to shell once I finished that task, and then getting out the silver for me to polish after that, all the while extolling the virtues of work and repeating the "8-8-8" structure of the 24 hours God has given us in the day to work and play and rest.

She said that work brought purpose to life but so did play. To her, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," was tantamount to Gospel truth. And "rest" was equally important but that was different from "play".

To her, "Go out and play" was a holy command, meant to maintain the sacred order of life.

It was her "holy trinity" of the gift of life.

But it was the dignity of work that my grandmother stressed. I'm sure she was repeating some of the sermons she heard at her beloved Roman Catholic Church which was very involved in helping immigrants and in supporting the labor union movement, especially during work strikes.

For my grandmother, the dignity of work meant that hard work should pay off for everyone, no matter who you are or what kind of work you do. To her, it was wonderful - grand, in fact - if you were a doctor or a teacher. But that didn't give you any greater value as a human being than a factory or mill worker.

Everyone has value as a child of God. Everyone has a job to do as a child of God. The work of every child of God was valued and ought to be rewarded. Work gave everyone dignity because you were doing your part to further the Realm of God.

So, even though I came by my chores as a result of whining and sniveling and being a brat, there was always a reward at the end.

We'd make cookies or a pie together and then enjoy the fruits of our labor. Or, she'd slip a shiny nickel into my pocket and pat my head. And, she'd always say, "Thank you." That was more important to me than anything else. It put the "dignity" in the phrase "dignity of work".

As I grew older, I learned that "dignity of work" in the workplace means having zero tolerance for harassment, victimization, and discrimination. Being considerate towards colleagues, clients, and non-workers. Celebrating workplace diversity and differences.

So yes, it's important to have this Labor Day Weekend as the sort of last hurrah before it's back to school (which, in some places, happened weeks ago), and the beginning of the Fall Season.

It's more important, I think, to reflect on the work we do and why we do it and the conditions under which we work and how we can improve the quality of our lives by respecting and valuing the work that we do and the person doing the work.

I think those of us who are in leadership or management positions are especially called to this reflection. How is it that the way we treat those who work at our direction is reflective of the worth and value and dignity of being human?

So, let's get to it, shall we? Today is a beautiful gift of a day and it would be a shame not to open it up and see what's inside.

Make it a great day, everyone.

Bom dia.

September Morn: FB Reflection

 

Good Sunday morning, good people of this lovely September morn. Didn't Neil Diamond sing a song with that title? "We danced until the night became a brand new day" is the line dancing around in my brain.

Not a whole lot of time to write down my reflections this morning. The pups were awake at ten. minutes. to. five. am. I'm not sure why. They just were. And so were we.

My hands smell of basil. And, parsley. And, pine nuts. And, Romano cheese. A friend has a very generous basil plant that has been giving us lots of bounty. I've made three batches of pesto and I'm about to make what I think will be my last for the freezer.

There's something wonderful about having the smell of food on your hands - especially things that come out of the earth like basil and parsley.

Yes, of course, it reminds me of my youth. My grandparents and my father seemed to always have their hands in the good earth.

For the better part of the year - except Winter - my father always seemed to have at least a stubborn small amount of dirt under his fingernails. It was as if it clung to him as fiercely as he clung to it.

If I close my eyes and let the smell of basil carry me, I can also smell the way the aroma of new potatoes fills the air. And, the distinctive smell of carrots and beets when you pull them up from their cradle in the earth.

These "memory odors" have carried me back this morning to a time when the world seemed so much out of my grasp of understanding and yet it seems so much simpler to me now, that I look back on it.

I was filled with questions about everything then. “Why” was, hands down, my favorite word. Or, at least, the one I spoke most often. I asked lots of questions that didn't have an answer - or, at least, not an easy one.

I still don't know why vegetables and herbs have their own distinctive smell but that's not become as important to me as that they do, and that those odors are strong enough to carry me back to happy memories that are still teaching me things I didn't think I needed to know.

Simple truths. Simple truths that get unnecessarily complicated by life's experiences and asking too many 'Why's' that don't have an answer because, if you are blessed to live long enough, you come to understand that not everything in life has an answer.

Furthermore, you're not entitled to an answer to everything. It's important to stay alert and aware and curious. Why? Because it opens you to appreciate the mysteries in life.

Truth be told, it was the smell of basil and parsley on my hands that carried me to an insight about the pericope from St. Paul's letter to the ancient church in Rome which is part of today's lectionary reading (Romans 12:9-21)

There are simple truths there: "Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers."

One of my colleagues suggested that this passage should be copied out and printed at the entrance to the church.

Simple truths. Old as dirt. Fragrant as basil and parsley. Maybe we should inhale them more often. The world might be a better place if we did.

That's it for today. I'm off to the House of the Lord to gather up the crumbs and broken bits from under the altars of my life and bring them to be blessed and and transformed and used for nourishment.

I hope you make of today the best of all the best that is being offered to you.

If nothing else, take a tip from Mr Diamond and “dance until the night becomes a brand new day.”

Bom dia.

Trinity Sunday: Imagine!

 

Sunday morning FaceBook Reflection

Trinity Sunday - June 4, 2023

Good Sunday morning, good people of the universe. It's a lovely, sunny-but-cool Spring morning, the first Sunday in June, and the early days of Pride Month.

In Christian circles, today is Trinity Sunday. I didn't go to church this morning. I watched it live-streaming. But, last night, I read a really good sermon on the Trinity written by a dear friend and colleague who is an octogenarian which really resonated with me. I've been "chewing" on it ever since - the mark of a good sermon, in my book.

I wish she had told a story - she's a good storyteller - but she had just enough of what I call "pragmatic mysticism" to be satisfying to my spirituality. I'm not going to get into a whole discussion of all the different kinds of mysticism practiced by various folk. Here's what I want to say about it:

A mysticism that is pragmatic deals with things sensibly and realistically in a way that is based on practical rather than theoretical considerations but not in the physical world. It deals with knowledge inaccessible to the intellect obtained through contemplation and meditation; it is not a system of beliefs or theoretical assumptions that are unreliable.

I think Jung described it best when he talked about things like "synchronicity" and "collective unconscious"- that place in the cosmos (or unconscious mind) that contains archetypes, or universal primordial images and ideas. It's a manifestation of the old saying, "There is no original thought."

In her sermon, my friend asked why we need a Doctrine of the Trinity. She answered it simply and honestly by saying that "we humans have to have an explanation for almost everything."

And thus we get not only one but two Creation stories in Genesis. And, the Virgin Birth. And, the Resurrection. And, of course, The Trinity.

I think the best explanation I've heard of the mysteries in life like The Trinity came from the character Neytiri in the epic film Avatar. Her student and Avatar, Jacke Sully, reports what she has taught him from her people, the Na’vi, who live on Pandora.

"There is a network of energy that flows through all living things. All energy is borrowed and one day you have to give it back."

That's it. Right there. The Resurrection and the Trinity explained in two simple sentences. We could bundle up all the theological doctrine and mysteries in those two sentences as well, including the Virgin Birth and Eternal Life.

It's pragmatic mysticism - something we 'know' to be true without needing an intellectual discussion or explanation. Or, perhaps, in spite of it.

I'm not preaching on The Trinity in a church today but if I were, I would begin by calling for a Spiritual Revolution, because that's what I think The Trinity does.

I think it begs for it. Insists on it. Practically demands it by continuing the Pentecost Effect and confounding everything we have carefully constructed to keep us separate: language, race, and now, creed and time.

God is no longer just a white-haired old man sitting high in the heavens, judging us. God is within us, revealed to us in Christ Jesus. And, God is around us and in all of creation, as revealed to us by The Spirit, the Advocate, the Paraclete.

God is not just one thing or one person. God is not even just The Trinity but more than that - dummied down so that we can pretend to understand how it all works.

But, we don't. We simply don't have the intellectual capacity and the language as humans to express the mystery that is at the center of every creature which lives and moves and has its being in all of the greater mystery of creation.

The closest we can come to understanding The Mysterium Grandum is that God is like a network of energy that flows through all things.

The Chinese call it Chi. In Sanskrit, it is called Prana. It is also called Ki or circulating energy in the practice of Asian acupuncture. In the Qur'an, it is called Ruh. In the Talmud, Ruach. In Greek, pneuma.

Among the indigenous people of the Algonquin, it is called Manitou. Among some Native Americans, there are nine spirit guides that sometimes appear on a Totem, calling their spirit energy to enlighten, enliven and protect the community (tribe). In some Native American cultures, the four winds are also called into being in the Medicine Wheel or Sacred Hoop to maintain health and healing.

There's more - much more - but I'll stop there.

Christians call it "Holy Spirit" which we say is part of The Trinity. And, in our arrogance, we think and act like we own the idea.

I think Trinity Sunday calls for a Spiritual Revolution to honor the network of energies - the Eywa - which connect us, everyone of every race, culture, language, age, and creed, and time to ourselves and to each other.

Imagine what would happen if we moved beyond the words on the dusty pages of doctrine and discipline and opened not just our minds but our hearts to be in relationships and interrelationships with each other and all creatures and creation.

Imagine.

I think that's exactly the Spiritual Revolution that The Trinity calls us to experience, deep in our souls. Imagine more than what's here. Imagine more than the limits of our intellect and the constructs of our time and place. Imagine relationships with some ones and some things vastly different from our selves.

Imagine what that would do to our world. Could war even be a possibility anymore? Might we be able to stop pollution, repair our climate, and heal our planet?

On this Trinity Sunday, were I in a pulpit, I just might challenge everyone to begin the Spiritual Revolution by eating an apple. I mean, eat it and really taste it - its skin and pulp and juices - and enjoy it as if it were a forbidden fruit.

Look at the Spiritual Revolution our ancestors tell us started when a man and a woman ate an apple in a garden and began to realize things they had never before imagined possible.

As Jake Sully says, "Sooner or later though, you always have to wake up."

Make it a great day, everybody.

Bom dia!

He Gets us

 

He gets us.

That's the message of the $100 million dollar campaign to "re-brand" Jesus. The target audience of this effort is young people and those who are skeptical about organized religion.

I've seen a couple of TV ads. You probably have, too. I didn't watch The Super Bowl, but I understand $17 Million was spent to air two He Gets Us ads during the game.

Which doesn't surprise me. The campaign is a natural fit with the NFL. Players often pray on the field and point to the heavens after touchdowns. Fans often hold up signs with "John 3:16" written on them.

A little bit of poking around on some of the research that has been done by those who have followed the money shows ties with all the usual suspects: Right-wing Evangelical Groups.

More specifically, the campaign is a subsidiary of The Servant Foundation, also known as the Signatry.

According to research compiled by Jacobin, a left-leaning news outlet, The Servant Foundation has donated tens of millions to the Alliance Defending Freedom, a conservative Christian legal group. The ADF has been involved in several legislative pushes to curtail LGBTQ rights and quash non-discrimination legislation in the Supreme Court.

Surprised? I'm not. I'm sure you're not, either, not if you've been paying attention (or to use a word loathed by the Right: "woke").

Although most donors choose to remain anonymous, no one will be surprised to see that some of the big money comes from Hobby Lobby and Chick-fil-a. Indeed, Hobby Lobby co-founder David Green claims to be a big contributor to the campaign’s multi-million-dollar coffers.

Hobby Lobby, of course, has famously been at the center of several legal controversies, including the support of anti-LGBTQ legislation and a successful years-long legal fight that eventually led to the Supreme Court allowing companies to deny medical coverage for contraception on the basis of religious beliefs.

So, they would know best that the Jesus they have hijacked and whose reputation they've tarnished now needs some "rebranding".

This quote from Green is so thick with irony you could choke on it. So, warning: Put down your beverage before reading it:

“We are wanting to say — ‘we’ being a lot of different people — that he gets us,” Green said. “[Jesus] understands us. He loves who we hate. I think we have to let the public know and create a movement.”

I mean . . . . seriously? "Jesus loves who we hate"? Do you think he even knows what he's saying or is he preaching mostly to himself?

“Be assured … we’re not ‘left’ or ‘right’ or a political organization of any kind,” the “He Gets Us” site reads. “We’re also not affiliated with any particular church or denomination.”

What they do have in common is the 1974 Lausanne Covenant, which is an important unifying document in evangelical Christian churches.

The Lausanne movement itself was started by evangelical Christian leader Billy Graham. Documents and decisions that have come out of the movement’s summits have decried the “idolatry of disordered sexuality” and focused heavily on the impact of the devil and sin on national cultures.

But, you know, He Gets us.

In my experience, the churches in the Lausanne Movement all adhere to pretty much the same theology. I call this theology "King Jesus" AKA "He who must be obeyed."

King Jesus has his own "Princes" (AKA "ministers," "pastors" and "reverends") and other members of His Royal Court (*His* church) who enforce all his "rules".

You know, like the 10 Commandments. And, every single last one of the 613 laws in Leviticus. Well, except the ones we don't pay attention to like touching pig skin, or tattoos, or mixing fabrics in clothing, or holding back the wages of an employee overnight, or . . . .

But, wait, you say. Jesus didn't say any of those things. Yes, the argument goes, but *His Father* did. And, besides, it's right there in Matthew where Jesus said, "I did not come to abolish the law of Moses or the writings of the prophets. No, I came to accomplish their purpose."

None of that is the point of the movement; it's the defense of the movement. And, the point? From where I sit, this is the second iteration of Mary Daley's logic. Daley famously posited:

If God is male, then male is god.

In this manifestation, the working hypothesis is: If Jesus is King, then Christians are sovereign.

And, if Christians are sovereign, then Christians rule the world.

And, if Christians rule the world, everyone has to follow Christian rules. See also: The 10 Commandments, the 163 Rules of Leviticus (well, the ones we like), The Five Fundamentals of Christianity (biblical inerrancy, nature divine of Jesus Christ, his virgin birth, resurrection of Christ, and his return), and the Lausanne Covenant.

So, with one, simple, three-word slogan campaign, the downward slide of Christian membership can be reversed, women brought under control, LGBTQ people abolished, and no more Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Ba'hi's, etc.

We'll all be one, even as Jesus and *the Father* are one. It's an answer to the High Priestly Prayer of Jesus.

Brilliant, no? Um, no. I think young people are pretty savvy about the difference between slick marketing and authenticity. And skeptics are, well, skeptics for a reason, this being a good reason to continue to be skeptical.

There are lots of articles about He Gets Us that you can google for yourself. I hear lots of alarm bells going off about this movement - especially when I read that the campaign has a goal of raising one billion dollars to "rebrand" the name of Jesus that they, themselves, have tarnished.

The irony is almost overwhelming when it's not laughable.

I have more to say about the theology of this movement which I will address in another piece. Much of my thinking has come out of a conversation I had earlier this week with a gathering of clergy who were talking about The Transfiguration - which we'll be observing this Sunday, the last Sunday before Lent.

There's something about the emphasis on the humanity of Jesus in this "He Gets Us" Campaign that is in stark contrast with the mystery of the divinity of Jesus into which we are invited in The Transfiguration. I need to sit a bit more with this thought - maybe a long walk when it stops raining - to find the right words.

There are lots of videos you can watch from He Gets Us. This one "The Rebel" has netted 122 million views on YouTube in 11 months https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0z0J-2P8a3s

Their web page is pretty slick, too. Check it out. It's pretty slick. https://hegetsus.com/en/he-gets-us-has-an-agenda

I don't think there's any question that Jesus gets us. The question is: Will this campaign really lead people to Jesus and, if it does, what path they will be encouraged to take?

I'll try to answer that question in my next reflection.