Denise Levertov: On a Theme from Julian’s Chapter XX
Six hours outstretched in the sun, yes,
hot wood, the nails, blood trickling
into the eyes, yes—
but the thieves on their neighbor crosses
survived till after the soldiers
had come to fracture their legs, or longer.
Why single out the agony? What’s
a mere six hours?
Torture then, torture now,
the same, the pain’s the same,
immemorial branding iron,
electric prod.
Hasn’t a child
dazed in the hospital ward they reserve
for the most abused, known worse?
The air we’re breathing,
these very clouds, ephemeral billows
languid upon the sky’s
moody ocean, we share
with women and men who’ve held out
days and weeks on the rack—
and in the ancient dust of the world
what particles
of the long tormented,
what ashes.
But Julian’s lucid spirit leapt
to the difference:
perceived why no awe could measure
that brief day’s endless length,
why among all the tortured
One only is “King of Grief.”
The oneing, she saw, the oneing
with the Godhead opened Him utterly
to the pain of all minds, all bodies
—sands of the sea, of the desert—
from first beginning
to last day. The great wonder is
that the human cells of His flesh and bone
didn’t explode
when utmost Imagination rose
in that flood of knowledge. Unique
in agony, Infinite strength, Incarnate,
empowered Him to endure
inside of history,
through those hours when he took to Himself
the sum total of anguish and drank
even the lees of that cup:
within the mesh of the web, Himself
woven within it, yet seeing it,
seeing it whole. Every sorrow and desolation
He saw, and sorrowed in kinship.
There’s an abrupt, shocking transition in our liturgy this morning. We begin in excitement, joy, and celebration with the liturgy of the palms as we re-enact what is called Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem. Then suddenly, at the doors of the nave, our mood changes as I recited the powerful words of the collect:
“Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace.”
Holy Week is a time of intense emotions for many of us as we find ourselves thrown into the midst of a familiar story nearly two thousand years old. As liturgy, as ritual does, the movement of our bodies this week, the familiar words and hymns evoke not only the events that took place in Jerusalem that year, they also evoke all of the other year that we have participated in this story and in a way evoke all of the countless other Christians who over the millennia and across the globe this week, participate in the same story.
There are so many ways to approach this week, the story which we have heard and in which we are participating. There are characters to whom we might pay close attention and with whom we might identify. There is the portrayal of Jesus himself—so rich in this gospel, a portrayal shaped profoundly by the gospel writer’s concern. We experience his calmness in the face of arrest and execution; his forgiveness, his healing power in the midst of the chaos of arrest; his final words, and the way he dies. Jesus is in control of everything around him, even while the violence surrounds him, the turbulent chaos of crowds and injustice impinge upon him, and from him flows love and mercy.
Of all the things I’ve noticed while reflecting on the text this week, the repeated presence of one emotion has caught my attention. Perhaps it was triggered by the gospel we heard a couple of weeks ago in which Jesus lamented over Jerusalem (Lk 13:34-35):
34Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! 35See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” ’,
Those verses foreshadow what we do today. Both in the acclamation during the liturgy of the palms: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” and in the repetition of Jesus’ lament for the daughters of Jerusalem as he carries his cross to Golgotha. It’s an incident that only Luke records, and it’s worth repeating:
A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him. 28But Jesus turned to them and said, ‘Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. 29For the days are surely coming when they will say, “Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed.”
But it may also be that Friday’s Downtown Stations of the Cross attuned me to the theme of weeping. This little episode is the theme of one of the stations in the traditional devotion of the Stations of the Cross, and it was one in ours as well which bring the traditional stations to life on the streets of our city and connect Jesus’ experiences and our devotions with the struggling and suffering in Madison. To think about the weeping women of Jerusalem in Madison is to be reminded of the plight of single mothers, of victims of domestic violence, of mothers who mourn the premature deaths of their children to the violence of the streets.
But that is not the only place in Luke’s passion narrative where weeping is present. After Peter denies Jesus, Luke tells us that he “wept bitterly.” And Luke adds that after Jesus’ death, the crowds who had watched his crucifixion went home, beating their breasts.
Weeping appears elsewhere in traditional devotions connected with the crucifixion. One of the most famous hymns to Mary, the stabat mater has as its first stanza:
At the Cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful Mother weeping,
close to her Son to the last.
Our liturgy may move us. As we wave our palms and shout hosanna, as we listen to the dramatic story of Jesus betrayal, arrest, and crucifixion, as we sing the hymns connected with this day, we may find our emotions overwhelming us. For some, those depth of those feelings may have a great deal to do with things that are going on in our lives, or the lives of our friends and families. Some of us are grieving the death of a loved one, some of us are facing illness or the illness of a loved one. We may be struggling with work, or with difficult or broken relationships.
We bring all of that with us today. Some of us may be near tears, but those tears are for ourselves, or a loved one, and have little to do with the drama that is taking place here in our worship. For some of us, the emotions that are welling up in us are a product of our own brokenness, our sins, our personal shortcomings, our feelings of guilt. Some of us cannot name, cannot identify what in us is causing our pain. Others may be unmoved by all of this. We’ve enclosed our pain and suffering behind an impenetrable wall. Our hearts have grown cold and stony.
Whatever we feel, wherever we are today, the story we’ve heard invites us in. It draws us in, makes us participate. Whether or not we are weeping today, the story of the cross confronts us with our own brokenness and pain. It confronts us with the suffering, pain, and evil of the world. It shows us the oppressive power and might of imperial injustice, as well as the betrayal and abandonment of Jesus by his closest friends. It is a story that encompasses the human drama at its most grandiose and evil and yet, in some ways, at its most petty and small.
And still, through it all, we see Jesus, calm, peaceful, forgiving. In the midst of it all, the pain and suffering, the injustice and evil, Jesus offers his love to the world, and his forgiving word to his executioners. Through it all, Jesus offers his love to us and his forgiving word to us. May this day, this week, be for all of us a time when we experience that love and forgiveness in all its depth and power, that our brokenness might be healed, our tears wiped dry, and our joy complete.
Almighty and everliving God, in your tender love for the human race you sent your Son our Savior Jesus Christ to take upon him our nature, and to suffer death upon the cross, giving us the example of his great humility: Mercifully grant that we may walk in the way of his suffering, and also share in his resurrection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
There’s an interview in the New York Times with Presiding Bishop Michael Curry of the Episcopal Church:
Q. Do you, as a church leader, as an African-American, feel compelled to say anything about the presidential primaries in which the Republican front-runner hesitated to disavow the support of the former Ku Klux Klan leader David Duke?
A. It’s not appropriate, and I’m not sure it’s even legal, to make a partisan pronouncement on any candidates. But to articulate the values on which we stand. Love, at least as Jesus articulated it, has to do with seeking the good and the welfare of others before one’s own enlightened self-interest. Our politics must reflect that.
Also, the House of Bishops released a joint statement this week on the political climate in our nation:
“We reject the idolatrous notion that we can ensure the safety of some by sacrificing the hopes of others.”
On Good Friday the ruling political forces of the day tortured and executed an innocent man. They sacrificed the weak and the blameless to protect their own status and power. On the third day Jesus was raised from the dead, revealing not only their injustice but also unmasking the lie that might makes right.
Over the years, I’ve encouraged you to pay attention to the way the gospel writers tell their stories. Each gospel writer had his own understanding of who Jesus was and what important message the gospel needed to convey and he shaped his story to conform to those overarching concerns. In a way this attention to difference among the gospels goes against human nature. It’s not just that we want to create a consistent and coherent narrative, it’s also that we combine details from different stories. Thus our nativity scenes bring together shepherds and wise men, and there’s a tradition of the “Seven Last Words of Christ” that put together Jesus’ final words from all four gospels. Continue reading
I don’t know how many times the Dalai Lama has visited Madison in the years I’ve lived here–I’m guessing this is his third time that I know of, eleventh overall. I also recall his visiting Harvard when I was in grad school there. But when I learned he was coming again, and that there would be a public event at the Overture Center (just two blocks away from Grace), I decided to buy a ticket. More information about the event, the panel, and the Center for Healthy Minds is available here.
Several converging interests compelled me. First was simply the history. He’s over 80, not in particularly good health, and this might be my last opportunity. I have strong interests and sporadic practice in meditation; I’m fascinated by the work that Dr. Richard Davidson and his team are doing at the Center for Healthy Minds. While I was still in academics, I was becoming more and more interested in the role of the body and brain in creating what we humans call “religion” and the neuroscientific research into the effects of meditation and mindfulness have implications for the study of religious experience and mysticism. Perhaps most interesting for me is how the Dalai Lama is experienced in twenty-first century America–a profoundly religious figure who is embraced and revered by people who have no truck with organized religion.
I was not disappointed. The afternoon event was billed as a panel discussion, with brief statements by Dr. Davidson and other participants. I didn’t keep time (we were told to turn off our cellphones) so I wasn’t able to determine precisely how much the Dalai Lama himself spoke. He answered some questions and engaged in dialogue with the moderator Dan Harris of ABC News. As I told people who asked about it, he should have been a comedian. He was charming, funny, and delightful.
I noticed several things. First, an impression I’ve had from other events and presentations by Dr. Davidson and the Center for Healthy Minds was confirmed. For a myriad of reasons, they want to distinguish clearly and completely what they are doing and researching from the category of “religion.” Harris himself brought it up, alluding to controversy that has erupted in various places when mindfulness practices have been introduced into schools. Mindfulness is a range of techniques that have nothing to do with what we might call ritual or religious practice, at least according to the neuroscientists. I wonder whether scholars of religion would make the same judgment.
Second, the figure of the Dalai Lama himself. Whatever he said, however profound, what was more important, more meaningful to most of those in attendance was his presence–the sense of being in close proximity, seeing, someone of great religious and spiritual significance. The Dalai Lama has an aura. It was palpable in the theatre when he entered, and the response of those in attendance was equally palpable. Whatever assertions Dr. Davidson and the other panelists were making about “science” the Dalai Lama’s presence and our response undermined those claims.
In the course of the afternoon, I reached for comparisons and wondered whether the Dalai Lama’s presence, and the response his presence elicited from the audience could be compared to that of Pope Francis. On the one hand, the crowds Pope Francis attracted during his visit to the US were much larger than our gathering in Madison; on the other, I suspect that onlookers experienced both in somewhat similar terms and categories.
It is especially interesting to think about yesterday’s event in light of the current political and cultural climate in the US. With the current negative mood in our nation, divisive national politics, and violent rhetoric, the very premise of the panel that through mindfulness we might bring about a better world by 2030 seems tone-deaf. Given our political climate, with the loud anti-Muslim and anti-immigrant rhetoric, it’s hard for me to imagine how a different world might be created by 2030. And for the most part, the deep racial and economic inequities that are a profound reality in our nation were not addressed. The demographics of the audience were overwhelmingly white, mostly middle-aged or older, in no way reflective of the diversity of our society.
Nonetheless, I found the afternoon fascinating and moving. On both a spiritual and an academic level, I encountered the sacred. The Dalai Lama spoke about the importance of compassion and asserted that selfishness, the right sort of selfishness, was the way forward. More on the day from the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.
Over the past months, I have fielded many questions from parishioners about Islam. Concerned about terrorism and religious violence, the persecution of Christians by ISIL, many wondered whether violence was intrinsic to the religion. As Islamophobia increased in the US, inflamed by the presidential campaign and in the wake of the San Bernardino shootings, people were eager to talk about their concerns and learn more about Islam.
I was reluctant to offer formal sessions on Islam for several reasons. My academic and scholarly commitments as scholar of religious studies made me wary of the venue of a congregational adult forum rather than a college classroom. I fretted that anything we did on Sunday morning would lack the scholarly rigor to which I was committed.As a scholar, I was interested primarily in religion as practiced and lived, rather than the ideal or the doctrinal. I struggled with internal conflict over my roles as pastor/priest and scholar of religion. I was also worried that given our typical practices, a multi-week program would see an ever-shifting audience. Finally, I was more interested in talking with than talking about Islam. A successful program, I was convinced would draw on Muslim voices to share their faith and their lived experience of being Muslim in the US. In spite of the fact that I’ve been in Madison for nearly seven years, I have almost no contact with local Muslims. Where might we find Muslims willing to share their lives and their faith with us?
Nonetheless, I moved forward with plans for a four-part series, with the help of Deacon Carol Smith, who is largely responsible for programming our adult formation. We laid out four sessions, drawing on expertise from the congregation and the wider community. Professor Anna Gade of UW Madison joined us for the first session. She’s an expert on the global reach of the Qur’an and introduced us to some of what she sees as keys to understanding its significance. The second session was divided between a period of follow-up questions from the previous week as well as other questions people had and a short introduction to Islamic law, offered by a parishioner who is a retired law professor and had taught Islamic law in the context of comparative law classes.
In our third session, we addressed the question “Do Christians and Muslims worship the same God?” Although the Wheaton College controversy had stimulated the original question, this was an opportunity to think more broadly about the relationship between Christianity and Islam and to think about some of the issues in interreligious and interfaith dialogue. As background for this session, I provided a short piece by Bruce McCormack of Princeton Theological Seminary. Written in the middle of the Wheaton College controversy, McCormack lays out what he takes to be the best arguments for and against the claim that Christians and Muslims worship the same God. Perhaps even better, and more thorough, is the work of Miroslav Volf, who has written in a variety of contexts about Islam and Allah. His recent book: Allah: A Christian Response, is especially useful.
Finally, this past Sunday we were joined by Ibrahim Doumbya, a Muslim from Senegal in West Africa, who has lived in Madison for many years. He shared stories of his life as a Muslim in Madison, the struggles to find space and time to practice his religion, and the implications of being Muslim in a nation that is not majority Muslim.
Overall, the series was a huge success. Attendance was higher over the four weeks than for almost any other program we’ve offered over the years. People who attended our 8:00 service returned for the presentations at 11:30. Most of those who attended came back each week and are eager to learn more. We may have follow-up sessions on topics such as religious violence.
What I’ve learned, what I might do differently, and what advice I might have for other clergy and lay leaders attempting to offer a similar program.
Most importantly perhaps, to let go of fear, anxiety, and scholarly prejudices (That’s a lesson I have to re-learn regularly in my ministry). At Grace, there is deep interest in learning more about people of other faiths, willingness to engage systematically and over time, and a sensitivity to the questions raised by Islamophobia and inter-religious dialogue.
Secondly, there are resources in the community and at hand. Reach out to other clergy and ecumenical groups in the community if you lack personal contacts. I remembered after our planning was well underway that the Madison State Journal did a brief series of interviews with Madison-area Muslims in December, 2015. It would have been easy to connect with some of those Muslims through the newspaper and invited some of them to be our guests as well. It is likely that in most other cities of Madison’s size and larger connecting with Muslims is relatively easy. Local colleges and universities will have faculty who teach World Religions, and even if they are unable to participate, they will likely have contacts in local religious communities.
The Harvard Pluralism Project has been mapping world religions in the US for nearly twenty years. It will have information about religious communities in cities and states across America as well as many resources on interreligious conflict and cooperation. I also remembered late in the game that already when I was teaching World Religions, resources for exploring Islam on the internet were readily available. We could have played audio files of Qur’an recitation for example which as Professor Gade reminded us is one of the most important ways Muslims encounter and experience the Qur’an. The Qur’an Explorer is one such site. There are also many videos available, such as the episode on the Hajj from Bruce Feiler’s Sacred Journeys series that aired on PBS several years ago.
I didn’t look for curricula designed for congregations. Late last year, the Wisconsin Council of Churches distributed a study guide that had been prepared by Lutheran Social Services of Minnesota. No doubt there are many others.
We live in a time of heightened prejudice and fear. As people of faith and religious leaders, it is our responsibility to help create a civil society, to welcome strangers and foreigners, and to build bridges across religious divides.
The so-called parable of the Prodigal Son, which we heard this morning in the proclamation of the gospel, is one of Jesus’ most familiar and most-beloved parables. It is full of drama and emotion and I suspect for those of us who know it well, it has helped to shape our experience and understanding of God. To confront the depths of one’s sinfulness, to repent and seek God’s forgiveness, to be embraced by God’s love and grace, that not only describes the experiences, indeed the very Christian life, that many us have lived, it is also played out dramatically in this little story. Continue reading
Preaching Grace on the Square 