The Mystery

The mystery is all around us. We live and breathe and have our being in the mystery. We do our best to pin the mystery down. We do our best to name it, tame it, and frame it according to our likes and dislikes. We make the mystery conform to our agendas, politics, theologies, and ideologies. But the mystery subverts them all.

The mystery is sitting with you now. No matter where you are--the U. S, Poland, somewhere in the "Middle East." The mystery is for you even if everyone else and everything else is against you. The mystery loves you because the mystery is itself love. 

Christmas Doesn't Come from a Store

Whatever our faith or beliefs about Christmas, many of us are entering a season of gift-giving (whether the Shi’a Muslim holy day of Ashura, Christmas, Hanukkah, or the Buddhist celebration of Bodhi Day). Within the Christian tradition, the idea of giving gifts comes from a story in the New Testament. The story details how wise men visited the infant Jesus and offered gifts. It’s always beautiful to me how the Christmas season inspires people to offer gifts of kindness. Generosity is heard as bell-ringers remind us of the needy and coins drop into shiny red buckets. Smiles are more abundant in grocery store check-out lines. But during the Christmas season, it is no less fascinating to witness the onslaught of consumerism. Why does a holy day — such as Christmas — inspire so many millions to spend more money on presents than on gifts to charity? I mean, it’s not like Jesus is a poster child for materialism. As I recall, he does say, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”Oh, I know, I shouldn’t be such a stick in the mud. It’s just people having fun. It’s just presents.

Of course, I understand that we shop till we drop to demonstrate our love for other people. I know that we have taken the idea of gift giving from “the wise men of the east.” But, as Dr. Seuss reminds us, “Even the Grinch knew that Christmas doesn’t come from a store.” Honestly, it’s the spending thing that has me concerned. For example, in 2011, the average American spent almost $1,000 on Christmas gifts. There are a number of issues associated with such spending — not the least of which is that many Americans spend themselves into debt (the average credit card debt per household in the U.S. is over $15,000) buying presents.If you haven’t braved the malls quite yet or spent hours online, consider this: Long after your teenager tires of her $500 designer purse, long after the new iPad is replaced by a faster model, the credit card companies will continue to reap the benefits of your excess (but don’t get me started on usury).

OK, I’ve sounded my Christmas horn. I will stop preaching. But just one more thing. Do yourself a favor: Keep Christmas simple. After all, the wise men who brought gifts to baby Jesus didn’t buy the stuff on credit. And they didn’t spend the next year paying off the bill, which is probably why we call them wise.

Jesus and The New York Stock Exchange

The ground of a certain rich man brought forth abundantly. He reasoned within himself, saying, 'What will I do, because I don't have room to store my crops?'

He said, 'This is what I will do. I will pull down my barns, and build bigger ones, and there I will store all my grain and my goods. I will tell my soul, "Soul, you have many goods laid up for many years. Take your ease, eat, drink, be merry."'

"But God said to him, 'You foolish one, tonight your soul is required of you. The things which you have prepared—whose will they be?' So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God." (New Testament, Luke 12)

Jesus' words scare me. This parable scares me. I feel scared because I can't help but wonder if I am, if you are—if we are like the rich fool in the story. I wonder if I am the fool and you are the fool and we don't even realize it because almost everyone else in our North American culture is also the fool. I say this with all due respect.

As a little boy I watched my dad work hard, take over his father's company, make a very nice living, buy us bigger and bigger homes, nicer and nicer cars...on and on. And though I know my father is a generous person, in light of this parable, though, I wonder about the real value of accumulating wealth, if it is not to be shared.

In our parable, this morning, Jesus is not attacking wealth, per say, but the foolish idea of amassing money to use for the sole purpose or personal enjoyment. Notice in the parable how the rich fool focuses on himself in the course of his reflection: “I will do this and I will do that and I will secure myself a more enjoyable future with all that I have made.” Jesus suggests that accumulating wealth, socking it away, buying more and more stuff is, to some degree, harmful for a life with God.

This is a tough thing for us to hear exactly because Jesus' words fly in the face of our economic philosophy. Jesus' words cut at the quick of the American dream. The rich fool is the very embodiment of what many of us embrace as the right way to live.

Jesus isn't alone in his critique of amassing wealth for the purposes of selfish enjoyment or securing our future—as if money can secure our lives. Every major world religion suggests the very same thing as Jesus.

Taoism, which is primarily a Chinese religion states: Do not race after riches, do not risk your life for financial gains, or you will let slip the heaven within you.” And Sikhism, which is an Indian religion, says, “Blessed is the straw hut where God's praises are chanted; worthless the white mansions where God is not remembered.”

My dad, of course, was just following what his dad taught him who was just following what his dad had taught him. It's the Protestant work ethic nicely mixed with Adam Smith's little idea called capitalism. It's how we understand the world. It's how we understand ourselves. Make more, acquire more, and you will be more.

Have you ever imagined Jesus standing in the mall or on the floor of the NYSE? Have you ever wondered what Jesus might say to someone with the bumper sticker, “He who dies with the most toys wins?”

Building a Better Nation

There is the famous story from the Hebrew Bible: A young shepherd named David, an Israelite, battles a giant man named Goliath, a Philistine. David and Goliath couldn’t wait to kill each other. Mutual hatred of the religious, ethnic other propelled them to fight. Both David and Goliath learned to hate. As an Israelite, David was taught that Goliath was impure and ungodly. Throwing a stone at a Philistine was not just a military act — it was an act of morality. Goliath never saw the rock coming. I grew up in a Southern family. My maternal grandmother was even a chapter president of the Daughters of the Confederacy.
Like David and Goliath, I grew up learning certain ethnic and racial prejudices. I vividly remember the day that I first felt the meanness of racism — my own racism. It was sixth grade. I was one of a handful of white kids bused across town to the “other side of the tracks,” as we called it. When we arrived at the school the racism was palatable. On both sides. The bully who started the fight was large for his age. The name calling was race and class oriented. I was white and he was black. I was well off and he was poor. He didn’t like white kids like me and I didn’t like black kids like him. We both learned this racism, just like David and Goliath learned their prejudice. The white kids stood with me, the black kids stood with him. The slander flew back and forth until violence erupted. It happened so fast. My enemy reached down, grabbed a stone, and threw it as hard as he could. Like the biblical Goliath, I never saw the rock coming. You and I, we don’t throw real rocks at people we dislike — or at least I hope we don’t.
Presumably, you and I are not like David and Goliath. Presumably, we are more civilized. Presumably our racism, classism — or bigotries don’t lead us to physical violence. And yet, I wonder how often we, like David, reach into our little bags, pull out an insult, and hurl it at our enemies? How often do we throw slander at people we dislike? Insults are linguistic stones. Whenever we demean someone’s race, nationality, sexual orientation, political party, class, religion—or physical size we are throwing stones at these people — even if these people never hear the words we say. But God hears.
David and Goliath had it out for each other. Who do you have it out for? Who do you despise? At whom do you throw linguistic rocks? President Obama? Mitt Romney? The homeless? The rich? Gays? Conservatives? Liberals? A family member who hurt you? Do you throw rocks at yourself for something you cannot forgive? If we want to build a better community — a better nation! — we must learn to drop our rocks — our insults. We must learn to throw nothing at anyone, nothing except tolerance and compassion.

HELL

I get weary of street preachers pointing their finger at me--and others--while yelling threats of hell.

The New Testament concept of hell (in the Greek, Ghenna), appears twelve times in the entire body of canonical material (eleven gospel references but not one Pauline), and is associated only twice with particular actions committed by individuals. Once, hell is described as the punishment for calling a sister or brother "fool (Matthew 5.22)" and secondly, the despising of "little ones," i.e., "outcasts" (Matthew 18.9). Typically, when Ghenna is spoken of it connotes generalities and not specifics.

However, even if we allow for an extension of the metaphor of hell to include the uses of the word fire, even still there is little textual reference to actions that are eternally punished by fire. The one circumstance where fire is mentioned in connection to eternal consequences (and paired with individual activity/inactivity) is Matthew 25. 31-46.

In the Matthew text, Jesus condemns to eternal fire all those who fail to act on behalf of their brother's and sister's welfare. In other words, sins of omission: failing to visit the sick and imprisoned, withholding clothing, food, and drink from those in need, and not offering hospitality to strangers.

All of this is to say the simplistic co-opting of the Bible for particular agendas profits the church and those outside its walls little; but the misunderstanding and stereotypes engendered, and the spiritual and psychological harm it may wreak, is much. 

So, if you happen to be the type of Christian who points your finger at people and then beats them over the head with threats of hell, you may want to pause and examine how many fingers are pointing back at yourself.     

Only Friends

My stepfather is a writer and editor. He is also an honest man whose opinion I value.

Each month I email him this column, and each month he emails my columns back to me with suggestions on how to improve the column.

Last month, I sent him what I thought was a brilliant piece of writing on religious doubt. I felt sure that the column would wow him. But, as an honest man — and my friend — he wrote back, “Hunt (everyone in my family calls me by this nickname) — this column was a tough one for me to follow and agree with. Not your best writing.” When I read his remark I thought: “Hmm…I guess the piece wasn't as genius as I imagined.”

Did it sting a little to read his critique?

Yes.

But I’m glad he told me the truth. It goes without saying (but I will, nevertheless, say it) that only a true friend will tell you if your writing stinks, your zipper is down, or that you have blue cheese dressing on your upper lip.

My email conversation with my stepfather reminded me of the French existentialist, Albert Camus, who wrote, “Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.”

That’s what we all crave, is it not? Don’t we all crave a friend to walk beside us — in the good times and the bad? Don’t we all crave someone who we can relate with and share common interests?

Don’t we all crave a relationship of mutuality and the type of friend-love that allows for honest critique?

Sometimes it’s not easy to have a good friend because sometimes a good friend must tell us what we don’t want to hear. And sometimes what we don’t want to hear is exactly what we do need to hear. As the Jewish wisdom literature of Proverbs reminds us: “An open rebuke is better than hidden love. Wounds from a sincere friend are better than many kisses from an enemy.”

Or, as the Buddha taught: “A good friend who points out mistakes and imperfections is to be respected as if he reveals a secret of hidden treasure.”

A couple of weeks ago I received a Publix advertisement in my mailbox. Contained in this advertisement was a piece of trivia that stated: “People who have a friend within one mile of their home tend to be happier than those who have friends living farther away.”

I don’t know whether or not this is true for all people, but it is true for me. It’s like Aristotle said: “Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.” The closer you are to your good friend, the closer you are to your own soul.

So, what are you waiting for? Touch base with the other half of your soul. You’ll be glad that you did — even if your friend tells you what you’d rather not hear.

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An Attack On One Religion is an Attack On All Religions

I'm enraged at people I don't even know. 

I've just finished viewing the 14 minute movie trailer for the so-called “Muhammad Movie,” which has many Muslims around the globe enraged by the portray of their founder.

I stand with the many nonviolent Muslim protesters. I, too, am furious. Spitting mad, as the old saying goes. I'm angry at the writer who sold the script, angry at the producer, director, editors, actors, and everyone else who participated in a project that so flagrantly demeans and demonizes the world's third largest religion.

In the New Testament book of Romans, St. Paul says, “In so far as you are concerned, be at peace with all people.” I strive to live by this dictum. But not all people do. 

Some Christians and non-Christians live in ways that build fires of disrespect. I am not surprised that people would make such a movie. Depravity is a human disease. Depravity, like love or laughter, is one of the things humanity shares the world over. But still I am mad at those who created the film. Madder than a hornet. 

Not only does The “Muhammad Movie” intentionally antagonize devout Muslims, but indirectly the movie mocks and denigrates all historic religions. If the writer and producer can create a film that depicts Muhammad the Prophet in a sickly light, so too can the writer and producer create a film that portrays Jesus, the Buddha, or Moses in a pejorative way. An attack on one religion is an attack on all religions.

No religion is above critique. No religion, when viewed microscopically, comes away clean—just as no person the world over, if viewed in a similar light, would come away spotless. The writer and producer of the so-called “Muhammad Movie” included.

It doesn't take a genius to know that our world has become a global community. One large neighborhood. People living in Libya are not so far away. With the advent of social media, people who live 7,000 miles away may as well live right next door. What kind of people would intentionally injure their neighbor? What kind of people consciously set out to hurt a person who lives next door to them?