Violent Disavowel of Violence

Sometimes when you read a text things become far too clear for comfort. And a reasonable question surfaces before the clarity heads back underground.

Why was I, former Gideon, scripture carrier, evangelical church board member, writer of letters opposing abortion and gay marriage, upholder of "family values," decrier of "humanism,"…why was I at the same time a supporter of the cold war, silent about nuclear arms buildup, silent about MAD (mutually assured destruction), supporter of preemptive strikes (in the right circumstances), as in "just" war?

Here’s the text often restrictively referred to as the curse against the Pharisee’s.

Therefore I send you prophets, sages, and scribes, some of whom you will kill and crucify, and some you will flog in your synagogues and pursue from town to town, so that upon you may come all the righteous blood shed on earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah son of Barachiah, whom you murdered between the sanctuary and the altar.

Why do I suppose I will not fall under the same condemnation just because I belong to a religion called Christianity. A religion that when confronted by its own close-mouthed support of war contorts to justify itself through a fallacious reading of Romans 13 about the authority of government. A religion like other religions that is based on the violent disavowal of violence. And so hides itself from it’s own violence–once again losing the key to knowledge.

How was it possible for me not to see my complicity, my solidarity with Abel’s murderers? Well perhaps, because I once thought like this parishioner: "The same suffering Messiah is also in the book of Revelation going to be the conquering Messiah. So we have the same God, who died for our sins, is also the God of justice. Just read Revelation, read Ezekiel, read Isaiah." And like this pastor: "Often in the Bible, God sanctions and even encourages war and invasion."

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Starbucks Log: Morning Magic

The loose end of a tarp covering a pane of new glass from a construction project across the avenue is snapping in a strong wind. The reflected morning sunlight is strobing, hitting the caramel coloured wall just above my left shoulder.

sp1Three tradesmen are carrying on with the hostess who is busy behind the espresso machine. She’s charming, sorcerous even, and has their number.

A girl with hair the colour of toffee is in the corner staring into a Dell laptop. She’s researching a sociology essay. It will be her best writing yet.

Just above the girl’s head on a square of azure fibreboard, in copperplate gothic, is written: "Nicely done," the Siren thought, and magically instilled in her coffee the ability to recreate itself from its own spent grounds.

It’s the birth of the refill. That’s my kind of magic.

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Ordinary gods

I say, "You are gods, sons of the Most High, all of you." (Psalm 82)

From the beginning, the incarnation is rumoured in creation.

I learn from Simone Weil that the creation of the heavens and the earth and every living thing is God’s act of self reduction, self renunciation. God, pure spirit, all perfection, entire, reduces, shrinks in order to bring things that are distinct from herself into being.

And so, in ways I can’t explain, God after creation is somehow less than God before creation. Creation was God’s risk and act of love.

And we… we are the tailings of God. A kind of God-like residue, unmistakably marked by God. Not Divine, but not, not divine. Not one with God, but neither are we two. While we are mere creatures, it is our mereness and creaturelyness that bears the mark of divinity.

Thomas Merton says somewhere in his journals that it is hard to explain to people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.

Sacraments are provisional things useful only as lenses for our nearsightedness. God is already transmuted in the things of earth. If we were properly materialistic we would see this. Our problem isn’t materialism, we are not nearly materialistic enough. We are far too sober and serious about substance and miss the dance of colour in front of our eyes.

orangestone

God is in the business of secularizing all things. She is in the business of atheism. In God’s world the terms secular and sacred have no currency. We can no longer talk of a split.

We can only talk of union and reunion. In God’s act of self effacement we are prepared, through separation, for union with God. The risk and folly of God is in our being given the power refuse this union. But is it possible, when finally striped of everything except our primal longing, that we could refuse the offer?

The only thing that makes sense of Creation is the possibility of a love reunion.

We are all gods, all remarkable ordinary gods.

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Schooled

Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire other than you. (Psalm 73)

I am being schooled by a friend who is dying. I am being reoriented in longing and belonging.

Somewhere on the cliffs of Cornwall
cornwallclifs

It’s time to set aside the things that make you a plodder and not a dancer. It’s time to give things away.

It’s time to forget about what people think of you. It’s time to own your desire.

Don’t try to change the world. Instead, find what it is that makes you come alive and pursue it as though death were not, and the world will change behind your back. But remember that wasn’t the point.

You are the point. So for God’s sake and yours, forgive yourself.

Mercy is majesty.

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