In Part I, I started by calling out a behavior that I believe is representative of a significant cultural shift. Of course, it would be ludicrous to base my hypothesis on something so simple as an uptick in red light runners. In that post, I attempted to begin addressing the issue of how we know something to be true and whether we ought to organize our lives around that thing or things. We ended with a brief summation of the last few centuries of western thought, in juxtaposition to the preceding history of mankind, as expressed in the conflict between belief in absolute and relative views of truth. We actually generated a healthy little discussion that promises to continue and carry over to subsequent posts. (For those who are not particularly interested in this series, don’t give up hope. It won’t last forever.) 🙂

In Part II, we looked at the foundational principles of freedom, equality and tolerance as metrics by which we judge whether something is true or not. We also briefly touched upon the Naturalism vs. Spiritualism conflict and my contention that, in the end, we need to put our trust in one or the other. They can coexist nicely to a point before they can’t. Through the course of the post, I felt I jumped around a lot before coming back to rest on the challenge of understanding what is happening in western culture and how we should respond. And, that’s where I hope to go now.

* * *

In a society with agreed upon foundational ideals, values and principles, behavior in its many forms (from artistic expression to interpersonal relationships to the way we organize ourselves into communities and institutions) will be reflective. For those of us interested in any of these things, I suggest it’s a good idea to pay attention.

As I implied before, I can live in a world where truth is seen as both relative and objective. I can respect someone who sees beauty somewhat differently than I do. I can similarly respect and appreciate how some will find ultimate meaning in something other than what I do … for instance a practicing Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist or Atheist, among others. I am a BIG fan of free will and, accordingly, not a fan of oppression. I know that perspective is an expression of humaneness and offers us a window into the complexity of all that is. I also honor those who do not know what to think and hope that they will find answers to their questions … the ones that are known and the ones that remain hidden under layers.

I urge those with strong opinions to routinely test their assumptions about the way they think reality is organized (or not) by interacting with others who both share and disagree. I find it immensely disturbing that the trend is in the opposite direction and that this is a precursor of both very bad things and, just maybe, a very good thing.

The bad news (as both my brother Grant and my friend Shack suggested) is that there is a current descent into relativism whereby we lose touch with certain lodestars that govern civil behavior. The recent election is but a current expression of this but the election is only the natural effect of a cause that has gained considerable traction for awhile. That causality contributes to red light runners. 🙂

For the last four hundred years we’ve been carving away at the objective edifice. And carve, we do. In the name of freedom, equality, independence, and tolerance, we reject a position that says that these things are not ends but means … means to the recognition that there is something more foundational than they are.

And, so we are lost in the cul-de-sacs created by our own lack of capacity to discern the ultimate outcomes of our thinking.

We continue searching. For years, I wore that as a badge of pride. I was a searcher after truth. But, I never believed I’d find it. I knew there would always be a small nuance to be dissected, an argument to refute and that the label of Searcher was, in fact, the highest calling. I never considered the possibility of Finding. What a crazy scenario!!

Imagine a 15^th or 16^th century explorer who actually did not expect to find anything (this is different from not knowing what one will find … it’s all in the expectation). How absurd.

Now, imagine the 21^st century relativist who believes that nothing permanent will ever be discernible. Or, contrarily, the relativist who believes the only permanency to be discovered is Perfect Man.

For some, this will be a comfort. “I cannot know the end of the story and that’s fine. I will live my life the best I can. Of course, I need, then, to accept that others have the right to live their lives the best they can and I have no fundamental right to consider theirs inappropriate.”

I could spend hours and hours talking about Nietzsche, Kafka, Picasso, etc… About how, on the one hand, the degradation of humanity is manifest and, on the other, it is glorified. Either way, we end up repulsed.

Absurdity is treated as beautiful (Picasso was an unrepentant hedonist who worked hard to dispossess the west of its traditional values of love and beauty) while the concept of a moral code is treated as tantamount to slavery. Renaissance art is an anachronism as a thing beholden to corrupt mythology. We ooh and aah at the most ridiculous things and apportion our approval to the meaningless. What, in our artistic expression, will stand the test of time?

We spend countless hours glued to “reality” TV that is basically voyeurism because we are insecure in our own skin. We elect a reality TV guy President who builds casinos for a living (hope built upon pure fantasy and the reality of exploitation) and offer up as a messiah a one term congressman with no government experience who sells us hope and change and delivers on neither, instead practicing the religion of self-aggrandizement. (I’ll be happy to engage that debate.)

The greatest abusers of human rights are accorded seats on the UN Human Rights Council. Currently, Cuba and Venezuela are members. Really??

Hollywood is ascendant in all of its bling and vapid fantasy. People with no moral authority or deep understanding are attributed great wisdom and are courted for their approval. Hypocrites Leonardo Dicaprio and Al Gore spout the existential danger of global warming and climate change while cavorting around in private jets or on yachts with incredibly large carbon footprints while taking petro dollars in support (Gore). People who are immersed in a culture of drugs, violence and sexual exploitation are seen as role models. Musicians who scream out the most hateful racist and misogynistic invective are worshipped by people who claim they hate racism and sexism.

And, on the other side, religious leaders spout out platitudes that are anything but loving and forgiving, denying the principles that their God claimed as inviolate. The religious press constantly has to report the failings of this or that pastor or priest, exposed for the most blatant hypocrisies.

We say that our side is for peace and hope and the other side is doing everything possible to obstruct peace and hope.

Where are the measured voices calling out their own as opposed to fingering the opposition for their tremendous failures?

We read about small wars and the potential for bigger ones. We drown in threats from nuclear proliferation to climate catastrophe to deeply ingrained racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia, Islamophobia, Christianphobia, poverty, superbugs and bio-terrorism, the rise of nationalism and the rise of globalism. Voices claiming that their position is the correct one and, inversely, the position of others is incorrect.

It’s no wonder people are running red lights.

On the other hand, we hold out hope that these warning lights are just inconveniences, nothing to be alarmed about. We’re fine and our civilization is on the right trajectory. And, there is certainly some truth in that, given the appropriate metrics.

For instance, worldwide poverty rates are substantially dipping, in no small part to the widespread availability of relatively cheap energy and very large supplies of food (both of which were predicted to largely disappear decades ago). Of course, there is a lot of debate about the place for fossil fuels and on climate issues, especially how governments can regulate anthropogenic impacts on nature. And, despotism still reigns in much of the world, making the distribution of food and other critical goods a challenge, to say the least. We are continually finding new ways to fight disease, thereby positively affecting life spans and the overall quality of life. In other words, in a strictly material sense, the trajectory appears very positive, with no end in sight as technologies bring far-flung communities and societies into instant contact, helping them to problem solve and complement one another’s strengths. I’m not even scratching the surface of possibilities here for improving the condition for many or even most of the world’s population. Through this lens, the future is bright and a cause for hope.

The optimists will basically just stop there. After all, it’s a nice narrative with a neat ending, as if we are in perpetual sunrise. There is great allure here. Maybe it’s like we’re always on Christmas Eve, anticipating the opening of presents in the morning, or else we’re always in Christmas morning, excitedly opening one present, the completion of which gives us the opportunity to open another present. Life is full of promise.

Until it’s not.

In what are we putting our hope? More material prosperity? Less physical discomfort? The opportunity to know more about more things (much of the knowledge of which has absolutely no impact on our quality of life)?

I have read of study after study that shows there is no positive correlation between material prosperity and happiness. In fact, there is often the inverse: Material wealth breeds higher levels of loneliness, more anxiety and more suicides. And, don’t get me started again on happiness.

I believe what is happening here is the confluence of relativistic thought with a propensity towards materialism as the guiding force of modern and post-modern western culture. It is no coincidence that the relativism given great life in the Enlightenment lived side by side with Karl Marx’s fundamental tenet, termed Dialectical Materialism (the belief in which guided a significant portion of our world’s population in the last century and is still a magnet for the far left).

I use the word, “lodestar” a lot because it’s helpful to clearly identify the thing or things that act as stationary guides pulling us towards a far off point. As I’ve either implied or just plain out stated: We all have them, even the relativists. We all search for that which gives us meaning, be it material prosperity, happiness, a perfectly egalitarian world, a world at peace wherein violence and its causes have disappeared, a world of freedom wherein humans can fulfill their desires without coming into conflict with others’ pursuit of their own desires, a world where reason reigns supreme wherein knowledge and wisdom are perceived as basically synonymous … and the list goes on.

The lodestar for dialectical materialism is a vision of utopian life where material needs are fulfilled by a neat economic theory regarding the means of production and people’s inherent goodness to do their part and where their “spiritual” needs are fulfilled by the achievement of perfect equality where no one owns anything and everyone owns everything. In other words, harmony and the perfectibility of man once the chains are removed (which, ahem, requires a whole lot of oppression in the meantime). In this vision, there is no external truth except for the truth of economics (where does that come from?) as expressed through historical relationships and where morality is completely man-made and man-enforced. And, of course, this is all made possible by the famous maxim: The Ends Justify the Means.

And, that’s a mouthful. Is there a more perfect way of articulating the relativist position?

The end of cutting two minutes off of my commute because I neither had the discipline to organize my time appropriately nor the respect for agreed upon conformities in the name of community safety, justifies the means enacted in my refutation of the law. Of course there may be something of “you mean me? I think red lights are good things.” That’s called hypocrisy which is the inverse of integrity.

We’re all guilty of this. All of us seek to cut corners in order to get around the constraints laid down by guiding principles. A little white lie at one extreme and fire bombing Dresden on the other. This is the problem for relativists. Where do we draw the line and what do we make of it when we cross it?

But, then, in order to cut corners we must be grounded in something greater than our own wish fulfillment. You can’t justify the means if there’s nothing by which we can determine the justification.

I said earlier that when we take relativism and objectivism to their logical ends … which I argue we must do to give us proper perspective on what the thing actually is all about … we should be afraid.

The objectivist must confront the fact that there is a truth so transcendentally powerful and meaningful that it overwhelms our ability to be independent. Think about it. This is why monotheists who even see God as perfectly loving, can experience fear and trembling at the enormity of it all. Given the premise of objective evil and objective good, then there has to be a standard of justice, or else good and evil are irrelevant in the end which negates their objective status. And judgment (justice implemented), which we all crave in this life for others and for our world, can be a scary thing when applied to one’s self.

The relativist must confront the fact that there is no meaning beyond what we create via our own feelings and thoughts, always at the whim of transient things. And, the end of this road is very scary. Where all things are equivalent, there can be no judgment or a concept of justice. The concepts of good and evil evaporate. This end place is called Nihilism, the rejection of all religious or moral principles, even to the point of the belief that life is truly meaningless.

Let Victor Frankl help us draw a conclusion. As a Jewish doctor, he survived the horrors of Auschwitz and chronicled his experiences, concluding that it’s important to find meaning in existence, even in the worst circumstances. And, thereby, give us a reason to live. He writes:

If we present a man with a ‘concept of man’ which is not true, we may well corrupt him. When we present man as an automaton of reflexes, as a mind-machine, as a bundle of instincts, as a pawn of drives and reactions, as a mere product of instinct, heredity and environment, we feed the nihilism to which modern man is, in any case, prone. I became acquainted with the last stage of that corruption in my second concentration camp, Auschwitz. The gas chambers of Auschwitz were the ultimate consequence of the theory that man is nothing but the product of heredity and environment–or, as the Nazi liked to say, of ‘Blood and Soil.’ I am absolutely convinced (my emphasis) that the gas chambers of Auschwitz, Treblinka, and Majdanek were ultimately prepared not in some Ministry or other in Berlin, but rather at the desks and in the lecture halls of nihilistic scientists and philosophers.“

Be afraid.

So, we can put our trust in material gains, which is just a form of putting our trust in ourselves. We can trust that man is inherently good and needs to just throw off the chains of oppressive structures in order to reach our full idealized potential … the throwing off of which will require oppressive structures because mankind is conditioned not to be good until we become good. We can put our trust in pure naturalism, whereby we are just particles engaged in some form of progress, no different than any other groupings of elemental substances, animate or inanimate. We can put our trust in ideals such as freedom, equality or tolerance, elevating them to the status of idols in that they are ends in themselves, deserving of worship however we choose to do so.

Or, we can put our trust in something that is independent of man, although somehow linked.

And, trust we do and trust we must. Pick your lodestar, knowing there will be consequences.

If it’s Happiness, know that it will always disappoint and never persist. If it’s Equality, know that there is no evidence to suggest mankind is at all predisposed to the concept when push comes to shove. In fact, we viscerally react against it at some point (absent some quality that is transcendent). If it’s Freedom, we must realize that laws and norms always exist as a limiting factor that keep us from the horror of anarchy. If it’s Tolerance, be aware that allowing others the right to exercise their beliefs does not mean we have the right to not tolerate their expression. If it’s Gaia or the harmonies in nature, realize that the laws of animate nature are basically the strong and cunning tend to survive better while not having the load of carrying a conscience. Nature can be a very stark and unforgiving place as well as beautiful and inviting.

As we begin to wind down, those of you who know me personally or through these writings know that I’ve searched for meaning and truth since I was in my teens. I’ve read the histories of most civilizations and I’ve trained in historiography (the study of how to study history). I’ve studied economics, political science, sociology, classical philosophy, economic philosophy, epistemology, psychology, theology, and biology. Beyond those studies, I’ve read physics, astronomy, cosmology, a little bio-chemistry, a little medicine and probably a number of other disciplines that don’t immediately come to mind. And beyond all of that, I’ve investigated all of the major religions and have actually practiced a number of them, believing at least a significant portion of their doctrines. I’ve tried to do all of this with an open mind and willingness to test my own assumptions. I have lived a portion of my life with the practical belief that truth cannot fully be known and that the relativistic approach offered the best match to my Idol: The Search is an end in itself.

(I hope you will not take this as an expression of arrogance in the vein of “look at me and all I’ve learned and done.” Instead, I’m humbled by my relative incapacity to understand many things, realizing there’s always more just around the corner. I included this background to illustrate how challenging the road has been for me and the level of effort it’s taken to arrive where I am today. The irony is that the house of cards collapsed under its own weight.)

Somehow, through all of this, I was more afraid of nihilism and anarchy than I was in an omnipotent being. Somehow, I remained convinced there was a moral code that existed externally to man, that there is such a thing as evil and that evil can become personified. I remained convinced that there is justice, although I did not know (and still do not know wholly) what that means. Somehow, I continued to have experiences that could not be explained through any of the disciplines I’d studied, including psychology.

I do not need to rehash what happened, what changed, when in fact everything changed. I came to the knowledge that there was Objective Truth and that tendencies to relativism were both natural to our existence and potentially dangerous. And, this knowledge has only been confirmed and increased in its depth as I’ve continued to explore and welcome honest conversations that could test my assumptions and beliefs.

They say that God cannot be proven beyond a reasonable doubt. You can’t prove what you cannot see. Perhaps. But you can’t disprove his existence. We can come close to a foundational belief in the competing objective truths of Monotheism and Atheism through applied reason but we have to resort to something beyond reason to rest assured. But, just before that point, we have to ask the question, is there any other system of thought that better explains reality than the one I’m investing in?

The relativist can be either whole or half hearted, just as the objectivist can. We are now in an age where relativism has the upper hand in the west, although there is certainly evidence of a trend in the other direction.

You may think this is a stretch but I want to connect red light runners with the phenomenon of our current political climate. Tens of millions of people dismiss character and truth-saying with the hope that their dismissal will be justified in the end. We’ve nominated liars and cheats for the main political parties while the fringes spout absurdities and attract large numbers. We drown in information, making it difficult to judge veracity, while also rejecting informed dialogue, resting in the comfort of our predilections. Our arrogance seems to know no bounds. We celebrate the vapid as worthy and reject a moral code as oppressive. We teach all sorts of things in our schools but how much time do we spend on loving our neighbor as ourselves? Wouldn’t that be something?

We cannot have it both ways. While we can live within the tension of a world punctuated by both versions of truth and we can even organize our lives trying to balance the principles, we can’t ultimately connect them in the end. The relativist red light runner must honestly say either, “I don’t believe in the rule,” or “My needs are greater than the rule.” I suspect almost all of them/us will choose the latter. When merely applied to running red lights, the consequences will largely be annoying, while sometimes tragic. When applied to the greater forces at work in the world and in our personal lives, the consequences can be much further reaching.

And, the objectivist carries an equivalent burden. When we spout platitudes or point legalistic fingers at others as we seek to raise the thing we worship to the top of the heap, we run the risk of making a really big mistake. The objectivists who resort to oppression in order to enforce their ideal (Idol) on others only invites scrutiny into how they live out their truths which is a hard thing to do if you’re human. Historically, many religious leaders (but by no means all or even most if we look closely enough) only alienate those who seek guidance, thereby filling the ranks of those who embrace relativism.

In the end, I’m a very cautious and humble objectivist who hopefully has eyes wide open to my many failures and inadequacies. I reject a view of reality that says there is no Objective Truth beyond what humans construct or what can be discerned through examining nature and the physical/material world. I reject it out of hand. For me, it not only doesn’t make sense, its implications for organizing human life are left somewhere between sadly wanting and disastrous.

I remember embracing, in my 20s the compelling variation on the Christian faith called Liberation Theology. It appealed to my extremely strong allegiance to notions of social justice, much of which I certainly retain. However, it only partially explained the full Gospel, the richness of which is both simple and exceedingly complex. I have spent the last decade diving deeply into its core, untangling the intricacies and rejoicing in the clarity. As I wrote a week or so ago, it turns everything upside down. No one could make it up. It can’t possibly be the explanation for all of reality because it’s crazy. Viewed through common lenses, it must be crazy. In fact, though, it’s anything but. I’ve never found something so authentic and complete. So totally encompassing as it weaves together all of the themes we’ve been looking at: Freedom. Equality. Tolerance. The Material World. Happiness. Each of them accorded primary status in the eyes of some, they are repositioned as expressions of something else and as signposts pointing to something greater. And, I haven’t found one shred of evidence to say that it is false or inappropriate.

We all place our trust in something or things. We all organize our lives and our decisions around guiding principles, each of which must be grounded in a centralizing truth. We need to ask ourselves what that truth is and what it means for us.

As we end, I feel the need to apologize. Typically, I write what comes to my mind, without taking time to really deliberate. After all, I am not writing a book. This theme has proved my most difficult and, while connected to other themes, as a standalone I know I have probably made statements that are not exact enough or do not flow appropriately. I have given pretty short shrift to topics that deserve a much more deliberate and careful examination. I have largely kept to my practice of just allowing my thinking to flow, typing as fast as that happens. I suspect there may be more holes than exist in a large slice of Swiss cheese. Oh well! 🙂

Lord, this is hard stuff. We want every question answered, every doubt allayed. Many of us are, with good cause, repulsed by the concept that you exist. Many take comfort in a world where it’s easy to refute any belief that good and bad, good and evil, right and wrong, judgment and justice, exist outside of the human dimension. Help those of us who place our trust in you to live peacefully side by side with these and those of all beliefs and to be slow to judge and quick to love. Help us to forgive as we seek forgiveness. Help us to resist the temptation to give into the voice that says these other idols and some not mentioned are superior and more authentic than you. Having said these things, we rejoice in the fact that you are who you claim. And, what rejoicing that is. Amen.

 

Whew!

This stuff can get complicated and take a long time to unpack. I’ve chosen to take a stab at it because I think it’s important and, when unpacked, can help us understand the best way to live our lives.

I want to thank my brother, Grant, and my dear friends Gary and Shack for your contributions to the discussion.

To recap: An Objectivist is one who believes that certain things in the matter of knowledge and morality (the nature of good and evil, right and wrong) can be or are independent of human perception. The Relativist is opposite: these things are humanly constructed and dependent only upon human perceptions. On the largest scale, this conflict is at the center of civilizations and cultures. On the much smaller scale, this conflict is at the core of how we choose to live our lives each day.

Let’s get something out of the way. I think I may have touched on this many months ago in a brief way. It’s the notion of Tolerance.

What are often the competing principles of Freedom and Equality (although they need not be and maybe we’ll eventually get there) have something to say about tolerance. The freedom-oriented person understands the importance of tolerance because we should celebrate the freedom of others to choose to live life as they see fit just as we trust they will respect our right to do so even if we don’t share many beliefs. The equality-oriented person understands the importance of tolerance because I should humbly live side by side with competing ideologies without lording my beliefs over theirs.

Unfortunately, the well-meaning inclination to be tolerant gets perverted when tolerance is elevated to an ideology of its own. It becomes Tolerance, the perfectibility of which is sought and celebrated as its own absolute. Freedom, Equality and Tolerance are the idols upon which we pin our hopes and try to structure out lives, not understanding the inherent ironies and the ultimate fall of the house of cards.

In the name of Freedom, we institute the Reign of Terror (see the French Revolution) and slaughter all in opposition. In the name of Equality, we establish communism and slaughter countless millions who commit the sin of saying maybe I should be able to have my own little garden (see the Soviet Union c.1930). In the name of Tolerance, we oppress and restrain speech and beliefs that do not align with our view of what is right, thereby exemplifying intolerance. These three idols (and they are that, in fact!!!) obfuscate the underlying reality of human existence.

And that is, that freedom, equality and tolerance are means rather than ends. They have both interior lives and exterior lives for us. But none of them is the whole story. None lives in isolation. None is in fact achievable in human existence. They never have been and never will be.

All of us desire limitations on freedom (we act to restrict the desire of the murderer to murder, the rapist to rape and the arsonist to burn). All of us desire limitations on equality (who among us would agree to submit to brain surgery by someone without training who claims to be equal in proficiency to the trained surgeon because, well, he’s just equal?). All of us desire limitations to tolerance (because who among us would tolerate as legitimate the man who says it’s completely justifiable to machine gun my children in order to achieve his ideological objectives?).

But, if we can’t count on these foundational principles to offer secure guidance, what do we do? Well, most of us realize there’s a balance and we try to live in that tension, getting anxious or angry when things swing too far one way or the other according to our line of thinking.

And, that can be well and good enough. All I can say is, it wasn’t for me.

And it certainly isn’t ok for all sorts of other people, some of whom are truly distasteful and with whom I share little or nothing in common with the exception that I believe in absolute truth and am willing to say so. (Unlike all of the people that deny they believe in absolute truth but don’t see the inherent fallacy of making such an absolute statement).

The problem for many people is that they look out at others who claim knowledge of objective truth (Jesus is Lord, Mohammed is the prophet of Allah, Socialism or Marxist-Leninism is the natural and ultimate result of the march of history, the Force is real, etc…) and are repulsed. Often for very good reason, in my opinion! And those very good reasons (many of which I completely share) give objective truth a very bad name. In fact, the result is the belief there can be no objective truth because look what happens when people believe such a dangerous thing. Good point.

Except throwing the baby out with the bathwater is not the solution. One should want to keep the baby, after all.

And, that’s a neat way of summarizing my thirty years of struggle. Not bad, eh? J

Well, just because we need to muck things up a bit more before trying to emerge with some sort of clarity, we have to turn to another conflict that seeks our attention.

And that’s one I’ve touched on before.

Either we are the result of some cosmic natural (non-rational) accidental collision of forces or we’re the result of something akin to intelligence or a creative force that exists outside of observable nature. If the former, we have no meaning outside of what we construct from the particles we are and if the latter, we have some meaning outside of the particles we are. I cannot see a middle ground. This is not to say that humans are incapable of creating meaning on our own but within the first view, the meaning is like smoke: Now you see it and now you don’t. The latter viewpoint looks a little like Mt. Everest. It was here before we were born, is undeniably a very big thing and will be here long after we die. The former is ephemeral. The latter is permanent. The former says we are born from meaninglessness and die into meaninglessness. The latter says we are born into meaning and die into meaning.

These two competing viewpoints struggle for out attention and just like with Freedom, Equality and Tolerance, what we can call Naturalism on the one hand and Spiritualism, Faith, or Religion on the other hand make it a fine soup for us to make heads or tails out of.

But choosing heads or tails we do. Or at least we try.

In fact, we’re doing it all of the time, either actively or passively, knowingly or unknowingly.

If science and reason make the concept of an all powerful personal God obsolete (as many claim) then why are so many brilliant and top scientists believers in a personal God and why are so many other such believers gifted philosophers and logicians?

Oh, is my bias showing?

My point here is that buying into ultimate meaning/objective truth can be both an act of reason and faith (they are not mutually exclusive) just as choosing the alternative of naturalism/relativism is an act of reason and faith.

Just be careful what you wish for.

And, let no one evade this decision. An evasion is the only thing that is dishonest. To say you don’t care is dishonest. Of course we care. (I’m not directing this at you the reader but just as a generality.) We care about right and wrong. Good and bad or good and evil. We probably think we normally can tell it when we see it. Until it gets confusing.

Maybe young people don’t think about dying that much but most older people do. And, no one doesn’t care. And, I wouldn’t believe it if they told me so. The prospect of being permanently snuffed from existence in any form requires a certain kind of opinion and behavior prior to death, just as the prospect of somehow surviving in some form after what we call death requires a different kind of opinion and behavior before hand.

Why do I insist that an evasion of the issues framed by this discussion is basically dishonest? It’s because we are naturally afraid of what we will find once we go down one road or the other. And well we should be.

I’ll say that again, we should be afraid of what we’ll find if we decide to discover what underlies our judgments about what is right or wrong, good or bad, good or evil. And I don’t discriminate about the direction. It’s sound reasoning to fear what lies at the end of each road.

I don’t say this lightly. When it comes to trying to figure out the basis for making our judgments, we can try to balance objectivism and relativism for some things (as I do and know that many do, rightfully), but in the end we must abandon one for the other. We’re left no alternative. We are born. We live. We die. What’s the point? And, even deeper, what’s the meaning beyond the point?

The frustration for science is there’s no answer to the point, other than procreation. We live to procreate. One might ask what’s the point to procreation and the only answer is to live. OK. That certainly means that we’re on the plane of an amoeba or a fungi. Adherents to the ideology/religion of Gaia believe in the objective truth that all life is basically the same. We’re all, practically speaking, the same organism. (This is really in vogue right now.)

So, science can define a point but is incapable of articulating a meaning beyond what it is and nothing else. One thing is the same as everything.

This is in the realm of something called Epistemology, the theory of Knowledge … an esoteric field for most people and really the basis for my Master’s degree.

The relativist ultimately stands on quicksand, believing it’s solid ground. Sort of like being in The Matrix. Relying on ever changing standards at the whim of opinion, they end up reaping what they sow. “You have no right to refer to that person with a Y chromosome as male because he/she/it says he/she/it is a female or something that is neither.” To say that is to be intolerant with an objective truth claiming primacy over a social construction of reality. “I am black because I want to be black.” “I endured shelling in battle,” because that would advance my career. “That courageous and suffering POW is a coward because I say so.” What they reap is a calamity of doubt and heightened anxiety as people search for something upon which to honestly live their lives.

The objectivist stands on rock that, in fact, can prove to be made of dust. In the West, we’re born into relativism and, in our post-modern age, it is our collective lodestar. Hence objectivists are viewed as a kind of alien force that will corral us into a place that destroys our independence. As many objectivists disdain those who don’t see pure truth as they do, we rightfully rebel against much of their dogmatism and view of truth that doesn’t match much of what we perceive to be true.

Where to go? What can we count on? How do we sift through all of the muck? Our world is awash in these battles which are played out in war zones, inner cities and farms, schools and universities and churches, in laboratories and boardrooms, in Silicon Valley and Appalachia, on magazine covers, TV shows and movies, in social media and traffic intersections.

What does History tell us? What do Literature and Art tell us? What do science and reason tell us? What do sunsets, rainbows and nebulae tell us? What does love tell us?

I have begun an essay on Integrity. I hope to finish it sometime soon. Integrity is the opposite of hypocrisy. It means living a truth without concern for the consequences.

I have come to the conclusion that some things are true regardless of what people (including me) think or want to think. I don’t arrive at this lightly as it’s a most humbling conclusion. I have a pretty good antenna for falsehood, even when packaged as truth. Sometimes it takes a lot of work to sift through the layers of deception. I fear that many people don’t have the patience or will to do so constantly. I fear the devaluation of the virtues I wrote about recently, pieces of the truth I hold so dear.

Next, I’ll try to more concretely tie all of this stuff to things that are important to us like politics and government, schools, churches and whatever else I can think of!

I am going to try tackling something very technical that may not be everyone’s cup of tea. And, as another disclaimer, I will probably do it quite poorly. While I have some knowledge of what I’m going to say, I am not adequately trained and will make mistakes that much wiser and more learned people would identify and quickly resolve. But, while I will do ill-service to much of the technical pieces, I hope I can capture the essence of the thing and to offer a reasonable set of conclusions as to its meaning.

For some time now, I’ve really wanted to write about traffic lights. I really have. Well, not just about traffic lights but about how they are acting as a current metaphor about a couple of things that concern me. I’ve put off tackling what is really a pretty challenging and complex issue because it is, well, pretty challenging and complex and I didn’t want to mess it up. Then my brother, Grant, yesterday morning basically asked me to do so and here I am. I’ll see if I get enough together to warrant a post right now and to take a brief detour from my Languages theme.

This just wasn’t happening ten or fifteen years ago. I mean we’ve been driving on roads pretty solidly for a hundred years, with some pretty significant congestion for at least the last fifty. I’m not sure when traffic lights became completely commonplace but it’s been a really long time. And, up until the very recent past (as I said, maybe ten or fifteen years but I could make a case that it’s actually only been even more recently) people knew that green meant go and red meant stop. Yellow, of course was the warning that red was going to happen pretty quickly and we weren’t allowed to enter an intersection after the yellow turned to red. We were even trained that we could get a ticket if we specifically accelerated into a yellow light because we were supposed to slow down.

This all made sense for the singular reason that it kept us all safe. At least from someone crashing into us in the middle of an intersection. We also knew that when our light turned red, the cross light would simultaneously turn green. They were directly linked.

Then some things began to change. The traffic engineers saw a problem with people entering intersections after the light turned red so they decided to put a significant pause in place so in actuality for few seconds everyone’s light was red.

I learned a lot in my 35 years working with tens of thousands of students and who knows how many adults. Absent consequences, boundaries are pushed.

Up until relatively recently a red light meant stop … you would be endangering other people’s lives if you entered the intersection afterwards because the green lighted people would be doing the same. And that was universally recognized as “wrong.”

Both our delightful elderly next door neighbor and our eldest son were T-boned (broadsided) by red light runners after they entered intersections legally with green lights. Our neighbor never fully recovered. Our son’s car was totaled but thankfully it saved him from serious injury.

Now, I NEVER go anywhere without witnessing multiple people continuously entering intersections after their lights turn red. Sometimes multiple cars in a line. In other words, they don’t respect the law or the importance of a social compact that says this is important. They are concerned about what they want (a couple of minutes advantage to get where they want) and unconcerned about what that means for other people. “I’m in my bubble and that’s what’s important.”

But this is not about red light runners.

This is about what we believe to be true and how we structure our lives around that truth.

Does that sound way over the top esoteric? Sigh. It can be but I hope that we’re all open to thinking about it. We organize our relationships around the answer. We structure our work lives around it. We empower governments or go to war or not go to war around it. We build and run schools around it. We wake up in the morning with expectations around it. We put people in prison around it and we release them from prison around it. We judge others around it and we judge ourselves around it.

I could go on and on. I have evolved considerably in my thinking on this, remembering the first conversation I had (to my knowledge) as sometime in high school. And the fact that I am now pretty obviously a follower of Jesus when others who read this may not be should not dissuade anyone from considering the issue.

Ironically, all people believe in truth, even those who deny it. All people organize their views and behavior according to a number of assumed things, the absence of which will make their life go wildly off kilter.

For instance, if you run into a guy with a long scraggly beard and a robe standing on a downtown street corner who says “tomorrow the world will end,” you would dismiss him as just plain wrong. His statement is false, even though he may believe it. You REALLY don’t believe the world will end tomorrow. You might believe we’re heading in the wrong direction and that we have conditions that may be bringing the world to end at some point in the long term or even near term but you don’t believe he’s right. He’s flat out wrong. If you thought he might be right, you’d certainly behave differently than you plan to behave for the next 12 hours. The fact of the matter is, he’s wrong and you’re right. Or, to make it even a more stark example, the guy could be shouting “I’m Napoleon Bonaparte!” when every indication is that he’s mentally ill. Or, even worse, the guy is shouting that he can prove the moon is made of green cheese.

Everyone … and I mean everyone … organizes our lives around things we believe to be true.

Here is where it gets tricky and that will lead into the main point of this essay. But first, I’m not done with red lights.

Something is happening when very large groups of people choose to completely ignore a very sensible rule. We could jump to speed limits but I don’t think it’s as good a lead in to my point as running red lights. People who are now regularly willingly entering intersections after lights turn red are faced with a simple decision: “Should I stop or continue?” More and more people are viewing the light as a guide to be followed or ignored based upon their own whim. In other words, “there is just nothing really wrong doing it. Given that no police appear to be around, I’ll ignore it, regardless of how it is inconveniencing or endangering others. In this way, it’s different from driving 5 or 10 miles per hour over the speed limit, which really doesn’t inconvenience others. Red just no longer means stop for an increasing amount of the population. Sure, in the scheme of things, this might not be as bad as other behaviors but I’m choosing to view it on both its own merits and as a metaphor of a greater reality that has widespread implications.”

And that is the issue of what I or anyone believes is the source for determining what is right or wrong, good or bad.

I hope you have the patience to stick with me for awhile. I apologize for the length and roundabout way I’m going to try to deal with this big deal.

Agrarian-based cultures generated institutions such as governments and churches that were largely authoritarian, with a few interesting exceptions (ancient Greece, the early Christian church among others). These societies accepted a reality that was clearly defined, enforced through frequently oppressive means and where people were considered virtual pawns at the whim of those in charge. In other words, liberty was not known in any widespread sense. The order of things was not in question. Things were the way they were for a reason and that’s that.

The Enlightenment is generally agreed to have begun in Europe, principally France and England in the late 17^th century and culminating with the French Revolution in the last part of the 18^th century. Major figures included men by the names of Thomas Hobbes, John Locke, Voltaire, Jean Jacques Rousseau, Immanuel Kant, Isaac Newton and Adam Smith. Americans Thomas Jefferson and James Madison would have been considered connected. These political, social and economic philosophers rose to prominence about a century after The Protestant Reformation changed the landscape of Europe, the theology of which upended the prevailing notion of faith. As a consequence, within two centuries most all of thought went through a radical shift, the effects of which we are still feeling today.

In great disservice to all of this, I’ll encapsulate what they taught in common and then try to connect that with red light runners, where we are going as a society and culture, and what we might want to pay attention to.

And here’s what they all said: Martin Luther to Rousseau and Adam Smith. Individual liberty is very important. We are not pawns but the sources of great things. When freed from the shackles of oppressive and totalitarian dogmas where we are basically objectified but not considered in our subjectivity (inherently creative beings as well as being created) we can flourish and societies can advance dramatically.

One of the most profound statements expressing this as is the first sentence of Rousseau’s masterpiece, The Social Contract: “Man is born free; and everywhere he is in chains.” In other words, man is inherently good and should be free. Unfortunately this birthright is oppressed and human being is not allowed to flourish. (Martin Luther and the Protestants would disagree with parts of this but I’m not going to go there now.)

Together, The Reformation, The Enlightenment and The Industrial Revolution established the concept of liberty and, for some, the belief that mankind was inherently perfectible, if only relieved of the shackles of authoritarian oppression. This can largely be called classical Liberalism, of which I am somewhat, if only partially, an adherent. An adjunct to this line of thinking is the concept of equality. If we really want men and women to be free we must promote certain things and restrain other things that limit their freedom. And, here it begins to get muddy if it hasn’t already. Because there’s a significant difference between viewing equality as in equal opportunity and equality as in ultimate outcome. The former doesn’t expect perfect outcomes for all sorts of reasons and, while willing to cede some freedom in order to promote equal opportunity, there’s not a willingness to cede the level of freedom to achieve a perfect outcome.

The French Revolution (much more a true revolution than its timely American counterpart), was the both the culmination of Enlightenment thinking and its death knell. We can see this in the devolution of the ideals of Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite (The cry of the Revolution: Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood!) into what is called the Reign of Terror, the brutal anarchy wherein the phrase, “a revolution eats its young,” was born. Successive attempts to resolve the equality/freedom dichotomy resulted in the birth of Marxist socialism, later implemented by Lenin, Stalin and Mao as communism, the result of which was the extermination of over 100 million people in the cause of equality. No one had the right to be unequal. It also led to National Socialism which is basically the same thing packaged as Fascism or Nazism (the latter of which was to rid the world of undesirables so as the master race could live harmoniously).

Well, let’s catch our breaths and circle back to red lights, where there’s good news and bad news.

First, the good news. Freedom is better than bondage, depending upon our definitions of each. Creating opportunities for people to flourish, to be expressive, to live life with hope and love, where differences are tolerated and respected is a good thing. And equality when viewed from the prism that, inherently, I am no better than anyone else, leads to humility and compassion and a view that giving is at least as important (if not more so) than getting.

Then there’s the bad news. If we are totally free to live our lives however we want and/or believe that all things (including values and beliefs) are truly equal as they impact our actual lives, then we are on the slippery slope to something called relativism.

Loosely, Relativism is the belief that all knowledge, morality and truth exist only in relation to culture and individual perspective and that there is nothing in reality that is absolute.

In short, what I believe to be true is true. There is no external metric to determine that my belief is, actually, false. In a similar vein, I have no right to judge the veracity of knowledge or the moral thinking of another. All is equal.

I’m a big fan of a lot of relativism. However, I stand soundly against the excesses of this line of thinking as I do believe in absolutes, as I actually believe all people do, in effect. Even those who work hard to deny it.

What does this have to do with red lights (an absolute) and a degradation in the willingness of people to treat them as such?

And, why is any of this important, for goodness sakes?

For starters, anyone who says there is no ultimate objective (meaning not open to interpretation) truth is stating an objective truth. Pure and simple. As I began, everyone believes in something and organizes their lives accordingly. An avowed atheist is an absolutist and just as much a one as the most fervent monotheist.

A relativist is an absolutist in the sense that he or she says “I am the one who will determine what is right or wrong. That is not the province of someone else.” The “I” is the absolute good. The idea here is a kind of perfect freedom from a perceived tyranny of imposed truth (see back to The Enlightenment, etc…), to be replaced with the standard that everyone has the right to have their views treated equally.

“I want to get home (get to work, get to the store) two minutes faster and it would have been inconvenient to me to leave two minutes earlier because what I’m about is very important so I’m going to ignore this “traditional” rule and no longer treat it as a rule because the rule is now a guide because that’s the way I want to see it because it’s convenient for me to do so and it’s really not that bad and I’m really not that concerned about the impact of my behavior on other people.”

But this isn’t about traffic lights as much as it’s about the trajectory of our civilization. A trajectory I’m convinced is frightening people on both the left and right of the political spectrum. A trajectory where hope waxes and wanes as the notions of freedom and equality and what to do about them keep us in a kind of maelstrom.

The ground underneath us seems not to be dissimilar to one of those rolling earthquakes where we can’t get a firm foothold.

I feel I could go on forever about this which will only ensure that whomever is still reading now will just stop.

As I wrap up this first installment, I’ll make a few observations.

First, the revolution in ideas that sprung up in Europe some centuries ago is still impacting us in enormous ways. Second, the lessons of history and how people live out those ideas and try to create societies around them are often lost as a distant mist. Third, despite the allure of some basic principles like freedom and equality, there is no evidence that either one can exist in anything close to a pure form, for all sorts of reasons. Fourth, many cultures are comfortable with authoritarianism, despite exposure to other forms of organization. Fascism exists very nicely in a number of countries including Iran and Saudi Arabia. Russia is an oligarchy (government controlled by a few powerful elite, whose desires are enforced by severely limiting freedoms). Communism (albeit in a somewhat morphed form) exists very nicely in China and Cuba, with other countries like Venezuela not far behind. Brutal dictatorships abound in Africa and Asia. Meanwhile, the West (Europe and North America) see traditional standards disappearing in the name of “progress” but with no end in sight of where that “progress” will lead. The Absolutism of the Totalitarian states is set up against the Relativism of the traditional Democracies.

We are currently in a place where, increasingly, black can be white and white can be black. Man can be woman and woman can be man. Good can be bad and bad can be good. Obscenity in substance or tone is perfectly acceptable, the normalization of which is perceived as good. All is just a matter of perspective. This is the consequence of strict relativism, of the belief in no objective truth. A strict relativist would see nothing wrong. A lukewarm relativist is conflicted. We are still reacting (and only increasing the pace of the reaction) with an aversion to the tyranny of objective truth. Objective or absolute truth has a really bad name in modern western societies. And, for good reason. Societies framed around absolute or objective truths naturally become authoritarian and, given man’s proclivity for evil, that authoritarianism is manifested as tyranny.

I am a believer in both relativism and objective truth. The challenge is to know the best way to relate them to one another. The challenge is to know what is really happening with red lights and what that means for all of us.

We’ll leave all of that for another time.

George Friedrich Handel lived from 1685-1759, was German by birth but lived a great deal of his life in England. He is considered one of the greatest composers of the Baroque period and was a contemporary of Johann Sebastian Bach. In 1742, during the space of just 24 days, he produced the score for his “Messiah,” the grand composition laying out the life and significance of Jesus Christ. In full orchestration, with choir, it lasts almost 2 1/2 hours. I remain captivated by its magnificence, literally stunned by the genius it must have taken to produce something so complex and absorbing in such a brief timeframe. I never tire of listening and being transported by the interplay between instruments, human voices and lyrics. I place its last five minutes at or near the top of the most beautiful and compelling pieces of music I’ve ever heard. I know because I never want it to end. If asked, I could probably come up with my top 5 or top 10 list of most beautiful music pieces. I know Mozart’s “Requiem” (choral 1791) and “The Lark Ascending” by British composer Ralph Vaughan Williams (solo violin and orchestra, 1921) would easily make the cut.

Early yesterday, this topic came to me. Not music. Not beautiful music or even beauty, but the languages God uses to speak to us. To connect with us and help us to see who and what we are and what the whole thing is about. I’ve been aware of this topic for quite some time now and have grown into the knowing, more as life goes on.

I suspect this will be another multi-parter, especially as I’ve concluded there are at least four or five languages he uses (for me at least) and I haven’t started a full exploration.

Two points to make at the beginning. First, language doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with words, although it does on occasion. And, second, I think this is a pretty big deal, especially for those who believe there is a God or might be kind of on the fence. For those who flat out don’t believe there’s a God, this may seem misguided or silly or something else.

A very bright guy named Tom Wright, against whom my intellect is quite impoverished, writes of “four areas which in today’s world can be interpreted as ‘echoes of a voice’: the longing for justice, the quest for spirituality, the hunger for relationships and the delight in beauty.”

He takes this general theme as a starting point to a powerful book that has stuck with me for many years. His “echoes of a voice” is a subtler way of what I’m generally calling the languages of God.

At the risk of starting off by eliciting all sorts of objections, I want to talk about beauty.

And, lest we get absorbed in the objections, I’ll say that I’m well aware of how the concept of beauty can breed idolatry and I’m well aware that many people will struggle, based upon their circumstances, to identify beauty in their lives and experience. And, I’m well aware that the problems of the world (both real and perceived) can drown out most apprehension of things beautiful. I could go on but I’ll stop there.

No, I still want to talk about beauty because I believe that God, via beauty, gives us glimpses of who he is and why we’re here and all sorts of things around those two things.

Can we think of moments when we have been almost stunned as our senses have connected with something we can only describe as beautiful? The picture or experience is so profound that it creates kind of a tunnel vision and we call it good in a way that dwarfs normal experience? It’s like a tapestry that weaves together individual threads that collectively take our breath away? And that this thing or moment co-incidentally points us to something greater than ourselves while simultaneously connecting us with that something greater?

I know that sounds like a tall order and maybe it is. Have we had any of those moments? I have. But maybe we’ve had moments that may not rise quite to that level but are in the ballpark. Same idea, perhaps not quite as intense.

I wrote recently of one powerful experience of beauty during my early adolescence that put me on notice that beauty can be transcendent and show us who we are in remarkable ways. But I recall some others.

After two or three days of blizzard conditions, camping on the floor of Yosemite Valley with my friend Mike during Christmas break 1975 (learning the definition of cold), waking up to a sunrise in a cloudless sky over Half Dome, with the virgin snow, and a park virtually empty of people … a site indelible in my mind … that was beautiful. I’ve seen a lot of nature, yet that image remains. I felt both tiny in comparison and completely connected in its element. I imagine there’s such beauty in the next life. (But maybe not as cold!)

Seeing Diane walk toward me, down the wisteria-draped arbor on June 21, 1986. There has never been a more beautiful bride or setting. She actually loves me. Warts and all. I was pulled in and completed by her beauty but, more importantly, the beauty of those moments.

Watching as our sons were born, messy and painful as that was. They were real human lives, gifts to us. Beautiful.

I experienced a great deal of beauty in my long career as a teacher and a supporter of teachers and their students. Moments of such delight as to make the fact that this was a job completely irrelevant. I should have paid someone for the opportunity to experience these things. 🙂 One moment stands out, quite humorous, but beautiful. A student named Margaret was struggling to understand the deep significance of a profound moment in our country’s history. One could easily have explained the thing without having to peel away all of the layers but she wanted to really get it and I kind of deftly pushed her thinking as the rest of the class departed. We carried the discussion out into the hallway which was choked with students during the passing period. She was so absorbed in trying to understand, she lost her balance and fell into a seating position, legs splayed out, never stopping the dialogue as I stood above her. And, then she got it and her whole face lit up with the insight. Blind to the kids going around either side, it was a thing of beauty. A young person wholly absorbed in discovery and experiencing transformation, seated on her tush. I suspect she has not forgotten it, either.

Taking a slightly different tack:

As a senior in high school, I was in a challenging English class and we had to memorize a poem, recite it to the class and dissect it for everyone else. I’m not sure how I arrived at my choice but it was “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” published in 1819 by the English Romantic poet, John Keats. I can still recall a large part of it but the final two lines are its most notable: “Beauty is Truth, truth Beauty. That is all ye know on earth and all ye need to know.”

Those Romantics: Artists, composers and writers, were captivated by the concept of beauty but I’m sorry to say I believe they missed the mark.

And what they missed is the belief that beauty is an end in itself, hence the conclusion of the poem I just mentioned. They sought beauty for beauty’s sake and tried to represent it as best they could. No, beauty is not truth and vice versa. And, it’s certainly not all we need to know.

Rightfully, there was a reaction against this line of thinking and beauty fell into disrepute later in the 19th century. In fact, it all but disappeared as something worth considering. And, that’s understandable.

The world turned out to be quite a mess, the exploding Industrial Age shattering many values held for centuries, whether those values were good or bad. While music and art that followed can be considered interesting or even genius, I’d argue they were only on rare occasions beautiful. That continues to this day.

Perhaps this occurred because the intellectual pursuit of beauty or the cravings of the heart did not point to the real Truth but only “echoes” as Wright says.

Because isn’t most beauty transitory? The snow on the floor of Yosemite Valley turned to slush. The final five minutes of Handel’s Messiah gets forgotten not long afterwards, the many other images implanted in our brains get crowded out by a whole pile of stuff that is anything but beautiful.  People age and lose the beauty of youth, something thrust at us by unavoidable culture?

Or, is there something such as timeless beauty and … what is that, really?

I’ll toss out that it has a great deal to do with Love. Not love in a throwaway term sense but Love as an act of living beyond one’s self and for another.

Handel composed his piece to glorify God. That’s what he set out to do. Period. In that regard, he produced a thing of timeless beauty, weaving together great truths. Among those truths is that we humans are capable of creating great things. We are gifted with tools such as speech, hands, keen minds and so on. Of course we can use those same tools to debase and destroy … darken the lives of others with actions and behaviors that breed hopelessness and despair.

I’ve heard Love described as a beautiful dance that elevates the participants as they lift one another into remarkable places. The trinitarian belief in the nature of God is relective of this. A beautiful dance with the object as Love.

Quite an ideal. Not so easily lived out, unfortunately.

I believe God speaks to us through beauty of this nature. He calls out to us and says, “See here. This is what I’m talking about. What can you learn from this? Where does this take you and why?”

I have been gifted with “seeing” heaven three times. At none of those times did I set out with that as a goal. This was no attempt at repetitive meditation in order to arrive to a state of bliss. This was no, “Come on, God, show me!!” Instead, all three arrived completely unexpectedly and with a force beyond anything I can describe. One quickly followed the voice of God who, thankfully, spoke English at the time and I had no real awareness of the people around me. One other occurred in the midst of people expressing their love in a number of ways, including through song and music. To say that I experienced beauty would be both very accurate and wholly inadequate. The Beauty was so powerful in two of them that it virtually hurt … my take afterwards was that my human ability to fully understand the language of God is extremely limited but that its beauty pulls me forward to its object and I can almost burst with the enormity of it. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So, let’s ponder on the things and experiences in our lives that we would call beautiful: Full of Beauty. What does that mean to be “full of beauty?” Does the echo lead us to a place where we can be filled with or fulfilled by Beauty? The beauty that reflects a reality much greater than ourselves and what we generally pay attention to. The beauty that makes us catch our breath and realize that it’s because love has a hold.

 

Lord, each day, please give me the eyes to see as you see, the ears to hear what you hear, the heart to feel as you do and the means to carry out your will. Please forgive me when I either don’t hear you or just turn away. Thank you for presenting us with things and moments that are beautiful and point to the truth of your existence and of what life with you can be like. Amen.

The reality of Christmas is just plain crazy. Over the top crazy. Beyond any possible connection with reality crazy. Some people think about this for a moment then dismiss it out of hand. One can certainly understand why. Other people go about accepting it as in “Sure. What’s the problem?” But, when you pause and really reflect, I think there are only two possible conclusions. One, it’s just plain dumb. Kind of on the scale of the moon is made out of green cheese. Not worth any time and energy to speak of. Or, two, it’s so mind blowing that it turns everything upside down. Nothing is as it seems. I’m certainly not in Kansas anymore. Permanently.

When I think about this thing that some believe actually happened, I’m close to speechless. I get images as my mind tries to process and cope. Before I KNEW what I now know (when God speaks so clearly and it can only be God as I’m not schizophrenic or tilting after windmills, only one conclusion remains) I sort of thought there may be some plausibility but the magnitude didn’t register as it now does. And it now does. My only response is to shake my head in wonder and that’s just the beginning.

I was reading an article yesterday and the author mentioned a quote by David Ben-Gurion, the primary founder of the modern state of Israel and its first prime minister, their George Washington. He said, “In Israel, in order to be a realist, you have to believe in miracles.” Perfect.

So, let’s get this straight. The God. Yes, that God. The One who is both alpha and omega, omniscient and omnipresent, creator of everything, completely outside of time and space … that one. Decides (wrap your head around that) to become a human being. Just once.

We’ll pause here for a sec and come back shortly. Now, many people (most commonly those who believe in polytheism, as the Hindus do … unlike those who believe in monotheism as do Jews, Muslims and Christians) accept incarnations as somewhat routine. They call these people “avatars,” or human manifestations of the divine who have come to teach us. There was a period in my life when I was attracted to this. At that time, I couldn’t escape the belief that there was some sort of supernatural force and even though I was pretty much a classic realist or pragmatist, this idea bore some merit (which I won’t go into right now). And, there wasn’t a great leap to think that this force could coalesce or manifest in some sort of holy person to act as guide. This especially made sense in the context of reincarnation, another place I won’t go right now. My point is this: the human concept that there is a super-natural or outside-of-nature force that intersects with we sentient humanoids is not an aberration. It’s been around a long time. It is either grounded somewhat in reality or it’s just plain ditzy.

Well, something happened about 2000 years ago that upended everything. This thirty-ish itinerant preacher and rabbi (Jewish scholar/teacher) from the most backwater place in a most backwater region, says he is HE. And, not only is he HE, but he came to take away the sins of the world and fulfill God’s promise to redeem all of mankind.

I could list a significant number of claims made by this man about who he really was and why he came. Maybe some time I will but that’s not the primary point of today’s piece.

Back to wrapping my head around that Decision. The one where God chooses to become a zygote which is a diploid cell that results when two haploid cells (single sets of unpaired chromosomes) fuse together to create human life. Except there was only one haploid, Mary’s. This reality, to be believed, is the miracle that begins to set Jesus apart from all other claims of human/divine coalescence. There is no other claim like this in human history. a virgin conception and birth.

Now, seven hundred years before this, the prophet Isaiah said

Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign: Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Emmanuel (God with us). Isaiah 7:14

The skeptic will argue that Jesus’ claims and the claims of his followers (who were well aware of Isaiah’s prediction) were merely wish fulfillment and a buy-in to the fantasy. They have a valid argument but I’ll push back with the mountain of evidence that supports the alternative.

And, that mountain begins here.

No one could make this up. God was born helpless in the most impoverished of circumstances. This was no King riding in with Glory. He became the least among us. An abbreviated lifetime later, he again was the least among us. Scourged, tortured and mocked (similarly, prophesied hundreds of years before) he died horribly, penniless, abandoned by all but a few. This was Emmanuel? Doesn’t even rise up to the level of ridiculous.

Unless.

Unless it makes perfect sense. Perfect sense. “And many who are first shall be last and the last shall be first.” Matthew 19:30, quoting Jesus.

In this reality, the strong surrender and the weak are made strong. In this reality, those who judge are judged and those without standing to judge are set free. In this reality those who wear the trappings of royalty are stripped of their adornments in the honest harsh light of day while those who are in rags are pulled from the darkness and covered with the robe of royalty. In this reality, the steel grip of sin loses its power and  the captives are released. In this reality, the power, instead, is in something called Grace … a gift, undeserved, but freely given. The entire concept of power and authority is turned on its head. It is never about us and what we want or feel that we deserve. It is always about love, manifested as grace, making beautiful things out of the dust.

Beautiful things out of the dust. Out of the dust of that most lowly place we now lovingly call a manger and back into the dust on that horrible hillside at Calvary, goes the one true God. And, in between he showed us what it is like to be fully human and to live according to our true purpose.

Many people who have heard the word “gospel” immediately go to the first four books of the New Testament, which we collectively refer to as the Gospels. In fact, the word is really rather simple. It means “Good News.” The essence of Christianity rests in the knowledge that the main work has already been accomplished. This is the good news. When God broke through on that night of nights, that work began in earnest, finishing when the grave was found to be empty and that itinerant preacher and rabbi walked wholly among his followers. In the middle, we are given a first row seat into the nature of the true reality. Soup to nuts, as they might say. Miracles are only the window dressing … little pieces of evidence, not to be confused with the main attraction. They serve as direction signs, helping us to refocus away from habituated assumptions born out of culture and circumstance and towards the one thing that matters above all else.

Jesus’ birth, life, death and resurrection turned the world upside down and made it right. This is the most important thing there is. Outside of what this means, the “reality” of this world and this life pales in comparison.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all of the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” Luke 2:8-14.

It is easy to dismiss this as myth, as fantasy, as the kind of things that superstitious pre-scientific peoples concoct. But, what if it really is true? What if the reality of this thing that by definition has more power than all of the supernovas in the history of our universe is the real deal? What if all of the teachings, miracles and parables that are nearly endless in their wisdom actually upend us so what is dismissed as having minimal practical consequence is actually the prime thing? The last shall be first and the first last.

Begun as a decision, initiated as a zygote, bursting forth with the cry of an infant and blossoming with eternal beauty into Emmanuel. Now, that’s something to celebrate. Merry Christmas.

Lord, all we’re left with is a kind of thank you. Received grace is a wonder. We can’t help but sing praises in adoration. You turned everything upside down and now we can breathe fully. Just as your actions were not easy, neither do we expect our lives to be smooth and absent of suffering. However, we can always remind ourselves that there really is a heavenly host to join with us and that you so love us you became one of us. Hallelujah! Amen.

My last post, for those of you who read it, was a testimonial, a personal history and reflection. As I return to writing, I just say again that the topics sort of appear and I really have no clear idea where things will head when I begin. In trust, the words seem to come flowing to mind and the fingers quickly follow on the keyboard.

Christmas is increasingly a secular holiday. Tied to non-religious traditions of winter festivals and solstice observations, it’s not difficult to see why. Especially as most of the activity leading up to and including Christmas Eve and Christmas morning is about parties and the giving and receiving of gifts. It’s about lights and trees and ornaments and the exchanging of cards and pictures and year-end reviews. In the best cases, it’s about love and fellowship while in the worst cases it’s about remembering or knowing that love and fellowship is lost or absent. So, we know that it can be a time for celebrating because we have things to celebrate while it can also be a time to grieve, even despair, because life for some is dark and exposed in such a season. In other words, for good or bad, Christmas is about us.

Or is it?

Growing up in a secular house it never crossed my mind that people would go to church on Christmas or the night before. Of course, as I said, it hardly crossed my mind that there would have been a reason to go in the first place. But, honestly, to me the point is not about going to church but about the reason in the first place.

For anyone who thinks about such things, wondering about who Jesus is and what his life and death could mean, can be a conundrum. I mean, look at it. He’s the most analyzed, discussed and written about person in human history. An itinerant preacher and rabbi from one of the true backwaters in the world at the time, his name (if nothing else) is almost universally recognized. Whether people consider him God incarnate or the common source for a swear word (or both or everything in between), his name and what stands behind it evoke nearly endless consideration.

There are two signature days his followers have put aside to consider these things: Christmas and Easter. Yes, both have pagan (meaning not associated with any of the world’s major religions) roots if we look at the times of the year for each. But the two days are the bookends for Jesus’ life. One his birth. And the second (not his death but) his resurrection. Both have tremendous significance to understanding who he is and why people have chosen to think about him down through the millennia.

I’m not even going to begin to dive deeply into all of this. Maybe just put a toe in.

C.S. Lewis said it best. Jesus doesn’t give us too many options when it comes to making a decision about who he is and why he came. It’s really rather simple. But first we have to get something out of the way.

I could write exhaustively on this but I won’t. It’s the question of whether Jesus actually existed or if he is a made-up or mythological figure. I know some will suggest it. Put simply, I believe there is as much or more historical evidence that he existed as there is for a Julius Caesar or an Aristotle or a Nero or anyone else in that general timeframe. In other words, a ton. I don’t believe there is any reasonable way to discount the fact that he lived. I haven’t read any real refutation, even by the most committed of atheists or skeptics. But, if that’s a sticking point, it’s not that hard to find resources to help anyone hone in on the truth.

No, the question is not whether a man lived a life as a rabbi or teacher and gained a following of sorts in the early part of the first century by our modern calendar. The question is was he anything more than that … anything more than so many other Jews of that general time period who gained followings, a few of whom were even believed to be the long-anticipated Messiah?

At the risk of being just a little technical: The term “Messiah” can be generally defined as referring to the deliverer of the Jewish people who had been prophesied (predicted via some kind of divine channel) for countless generations.

Just as the Jews (Hebrew people) had been “delivered” from Egyptian captivity following four centuries of slavey (courtesy of Moses), they awaited the ultimate deliverance by God and in the time of Jesus that meant deliverance from Roman rule among other things. I’m being incredibly simplistic, forgive me.

Perhaps the greatest prophet in the long history of these people was a pretty intense fellow named Isaiah, who lived approximately 700 B.C., a full seven centuries before Jesus. That’s a long time. Remarkably, he predicted the arrival of a Messiah that would be distinguished by many things. Anyone seriously wondering about who Jesus really is should spend a small amount of time reading the Book of Isaiah, especially chapters 52&53. But here’s a small primer that can cut through to the main ideas, linking them to what was later chronicled. (There are a number of other recorded prophets who predicted the events surrounding Jesus’ life. A simple google search will reveal them.)

http://www.agapebiblestudy.com/charts/Isaiah’s%20Messianic%20Prophecies.htm

So, what was predicted actually happened. Isaiah foresaw that this divine King and deliver would be rejected and scourged, while simultaneously freeing the people in a way they could not have imagined.

Why do I bring this up? Because on top of all of the other evidence that Jesus was and is who he said he was, this almost bizarre prediction from a distant past must, at a minimum, give one pause. I had been vaguely aware of the Jewish prophets during my adulthood but really didn’t pay them much attention. I wish I had.

At the risk of maybe repeating myself from a blog earlier in the year (I just can’t recall clearly and don’t want to go searching all the way back), I’ll return to C.S. Lewis and his simple and direct defense of Jesus, included in his most famous work, Mere Christianity.

“I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”

This from a formerly avowed atheist and a brilliant one at that. A man who was one of the giants of history and literature who could debate the top minds of his time with clarity and ease. Yet he finally surrendered his atheism when he came to realize he’d just plain been wrong. He is one of the most prolific writers in the matters of faith in modern times. And, his realization that he’d been wrong did not end there. He continued to explore, study and refine his thinking throughout his life, open to alternative explanations but never leaving the fundamental realization that Jesus existed and was who he said he was. The simple passage above says it all. And it flies in the face of so many who want to make Jesus in their own image. We can see him as a madman. Yes, that would mean his teachings are absolutely insane and have no resonance or connection with any kind of reality we perceive to be authentic. Or, he is the liar of all liars, the deceiver of all deceivers who maliciously tried to turn people away from something good to something terribly bad and he did this on purpose. There is no middle ground. We can’t pick and choose. Moral teacher? He did not leave that open to us, in the least. Door A: Lunacy? Door B: Malicious Deceiver? Door C: Moral Teacher? Door D: The one true God incarnate in human flesh speaking the greatest truths in all of creation.

Those of you who know me undoubtedly consider me to be a fairly intelligent man and, trust me, I don’t say that with arrogance. You probably also know me to be reflective and inquisitive, one who weighs evidence and considers a wide array of possibilities before arriving at conclusions. The simple logic presented by Lewis in unavoidable. While I did not arrive at Door D just by logic, I arrived nonetheless and passed through most joyously. And there has been nothing since then that remotely suggests I was wrong. In fact, the evidence just continues to pile up.

The idea of Christmas is grounded in the wonder that (A) there is a God, (B) He is all powerful, knowing and loving, (C) He knows each of us intimately and wants the best for us, regardless of the challenges we face, (D) God did the impossible and tore the veil in two, passing from eternity into time and space as a simple man, (E) That man is the one with the name of Jesus (prophesied as Emmanuel which means “God with Us”), (F) This Jesus led a life and taught a reality that turns the world upside down and points the way to redemption and eternal life, and (G) Is completely present, can have a relationship with us here and now, and is available. All we have to do is ask.

Yes. That’s worthy of wonder. Yes, that is truly wonderful. That is stop-you-in-your-tracks full of wonder. I can just testify for myself. C.S. Lewis could not have said it any better. That wonder, if acquired and lived into only leaves us/me one option: “Fall at his feet and call him Lord and God.”

During this season, we sing or listen to a lot of songs. Many are secular and we refer to most as carols. Jingle Bells. Frosty the Snowman. Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, the list goes on and on. They are fun and light-hearted and nicely reflect a temperament for the time of year. Then there are the traditional carols that point to Jesus, his birth and what that means. Silent Night. Joy to the World. O Little Town of Bethlehem and many more. We may even have our favorites, both secular and Christian.

I have some ones I really like and then I have my favorite. The music and lyrics cut to my core. They never cease to wrench me from whatever place in which I had been residing the moment before and transport me to a place of the deepest joy, a joy so powerful I frequently have tears rolling down my face and don’t want them to stop.

It is “O Holy Night.”

Here are the lyrics:

Other versions add other verses but I’m ok with these. I’ve heard it sung by many artists. We sang it in church a couple of weeks ago and it was magnificent. Of all the professional artists I’ve heard sing it, I think my favorite rendition is by Celine Dion. Of course, her voice is a thing to behold. I sometimes say that music is the language of God as it pours into us in a way where mere words sometimes fail. Those gifted with expression through vocal and instrumental music can provide us with such beauty that we can’t help but be transported from the mundane to the sublime … a place of awe. Here is the link to a Celine Dion live performance of O Holy Night.

Take a moment to watch.

Noel means Christmas while the word “Holy” means of God and from God … sacred and set apart. The Holy Night ushers in the miracle that I believe only leaves me one option: To fall to my knees in reverence and joy. This is Christmas. This defines me. Thank you, Lord. Amen.

’Tis the season …

As I pointed out the obvious a few days ago, we’re in that approximately five week period bracketing three significant holidays and occasions to celebrate: Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years. Also, within this general timeframe, we have other holidays and festivals for small percentages of our citizens: the established traditions of Hanukkah and Chinese New Years and the much more recently-initiated Kwanzaa. So, it is the season for celebration and to each his or her own, I guess! The benefit of living in a pluralistic society. 🙂

Christmas.

This one stands apart. It brings out so much. I hardly feel I have standing to write about it but the call has come so we’ll see what happens. This might take awhile.

Growing up in south Palo Alto in the 50s and 60s, living in our tract homes, built in the aftermath of World War II, I figured almost everyone celebrated Christmas. I’m not sure that’s really changed, though. But, back then, I don’t believe it was all that controversial. Yes, we had one Jewish family with boys we befriended our age. The mother and grandmother were Auschwitz survivors and they celebrated Hanukkah. Otherwise, we figured everyone enjoyed traditional Christmas with trees and lights and presents. We were close to another family, Catholics, who regularly attended church, something we didn’t do, and that whole concept was largely outside my frame of reference.

Instead, each December, we all packed into the family station wagon … the 1955 white Chevrolet made way eventually to a 1966 green Chevrolet … and made the 45 minute ride up to San Francisco and the apartment of my paternal grandpa and his second wife, my grandma. (My dad’s first wife died of illness when he was in his twenties.) They kept a kosher home with special plates to be brought out on holy days, including Passover and Hannukah. Of these, Passover was a much bigger deal (as it is) but we participated in the rituals and my brother and I even had yarmulkes. I knew I was somehow connected to Judaism and felt a kind of pride in that, especially when my father would read scripture or parts of a liturgy in Hebrew. There were symbols of Judaism in the apartment and the place smelled a little like old people but we were treated nicely and I felt comfortable. I don’t think I could have ever told anyone why Hanukkah was being celebrated, unlike Passover which had a really amazing story attached to it … something we repeated every year about the time we also went searching for easter eggs.

During the other 363 days of the year, these Jewish days were irrelevant. On the other hand, with a father who was a lover of history, something I acquired at the earliest age, I knew a great deal about the modern history of the Jews, especially the Holocaust when we had lost a number of relatives still living in eastern Europe. I knew of the Diaspora and of the Ashkenazi and Sephardic groups, both of which I could count in my heritage. Maybe I’ll write some day about my identity as a Jew of sorts and its impact on framing my view of so much. Since my father, a confirmed Jew, had ceased being an observant one, I had no real exposure to Judaism as a religion outside of these two holidays. It was a people, really. Not a religion. Any smidgen of Jewish heritage had virtually zero impact on my day to day upbringing as I progressed through childhood.

Of Christianity, I could have said even less. I was aware of someone named Jesus and that his birth had something to do with Christmas, that he was a child born to people named Mary and Joseph. I saw manger scenes with sheep and shepherds and the wise men. We always strung our Christmas cards across the fireplace mantle and there were stars and mangers to go with the silver bells, holly, snow and the rest.

I probably mentioned this before some time but the only church I ever stepped foot in before college was on our 4th grade visit to the nearest California mission at San Juan Batista. Other than that, no weddings or funerals and certainly no services.

My mother was vaguely Protestant of some stripe but I had no idea what that meant. She was from a long line of politically and socially active liberal Progressives (of the late 19th century/early 20th century variety … somewhat different than today’s brand). She was an outspoken Democrat to my father’s Republicanism. We listened to Christmas music and even went caroling on occasion. I’m sure I sang some of the old favorites like Silent Night, O Come all Ye Faithful, Joy to the World and the rest. But, I couldn’t have thought about the words any less.As a family, we certainly never talked about them. I remember one large picture book of bible stories but I don’t remember a bible. The stories, as I recall, were all Old Testament stories of Jacob and Moses and Samson and David, with Goliath and Jonathan and Saul. I can’t recall any talk about God and I’m sure I didn’t give God much, if any, thought.

On the other hand, Santa was larger than life as he always is to small children. We brought in the tree on Christmas eve and strung it with lights. Santa did double duty and hung all the ornaments after we three kids were in bed and before leaving our presents. What kid did not love Christmas! My dad loved it as much as anyone and obviously saw no conflict with his past. On the other hand, I can remember him occasionally being annoyed that some acquaintance was trying to get him to convert to Christianity. This really bothered him. It did not leave a good taste in my mouth, hearing his gripe, especially as I had a vague sense that a Christian West had stood by while Jews were slaughtered by the millions.
These were generally very happy weeks in the cycle of the seasons. We had traditional turkey dinners for Thanksgiving although we never gave thanks (our nightly dinner table was always a family affair and punctuated by intellectual discussions and quizzes … I could recite all 50 state capitals in Kindergarten and campaigned for Kennedy over Nixon to my fellow first graders). With Hanukkah and Christmas to round things out and time off from school, glad tidings seemed very natural.

*****

There is this profound theological concept called Prevenient Grace. Now, I’ve written about grace a bit and have come to see it as the most remarkable force in all of creation. In fact there is only one Grace but those who sometimes want to dive more deeply into its meaning, divide it up into three parts. I had no idea about any of this, even after I obtained a masters degree in Theology from a Catholic university in my young adulthood. In fact, I never even thought about it until I received and experienced it (and that’s to put it lightly). And, I still didn’t know it had a name until later.

Why do I bring this up? Because I think it’s a really big deal and is part of my Christmas Story.

Very loosely, Prevenient Grace is a way of describing that God is seeking us before we ever seek or even know about him. That there are indicators of his presence for some of us to see if we look backwards and can discern his hand. It’s like God is working behind the scenes, maybe tugging a little bit here or there, but generally biding his time. This happened to me.

My first experience that there was really something other than what commonly meets the eye was a profound vision I had in the 7th grade. You heard that right: I had a vision. And what a vision it was. As visions are known to do, this one came out of nowhere and transported me. Let me set the stage. 4th graders were introduced to music in our elementary school and given a flutophone, the precursor to encouraging us to take up a real instrument. I chose the violin against the objections of my mother (who seemed to always be concerned about my failure while expecting me to excel) because my dad had briefly played it. They finally agreed to get me one if I agreed to take weekly lessons and practice at least one half hour a day. I signed on. The first two years must have been largely miserable because making beautiful music on a violin is just not that easy. However, I began to excel and by the 7th grade in Jr. High, I was in the orchestra and doing pretty well. (As an aside, I continued the weekly lessons and the daily practice through the 9th grade, by which time I was pretty accomplished but also being drawn by sports and other activities. I set it down after performing Beethoven’s 7th symphony in public as a first violinist/third chair in the youth orchestra.)

Anyway, back to some point in the 7th grade when my 4th period orchestra teacher recognized I had some musical talent and encouraged me to join the Glee Club which met after school. I immediately found the vocal music exhilarating. It was probably only my second time there and I was standing on the top riser as a relatively tall boy and we were in the midst of singing something beautiful when I left my body.

No fooling. 7th grade. The real deal.

And I was soaring with angels. Angels. What did I know of angels?? Surrounded by beauty with the sound permeating me. You can’t imagine. I don’t know how long it lasted. A long time for me. Maybe a second for real. I was stunned. About knocked on my butt stunned. I don’t remember what happened next but that I rushed home to tell my mother of this most amazing of experiences. To say I was blown away would be an enormous understatement. So I gushed out the facts, to which she replied, “That’s ridiculous.”

I didn’t sing again until I was over 50 years old.

The scar was acute. In fact, this was an example why I was in therapy for five years. I had had my first “religious” experience, certainly not sought and most certainly condemned. The second one of that magnitude (and greater) happened in 2005, some 38 years later.

I’m not sure of the first time I heard Handel’s remarkable Messiah performed. It was long after I had laid down the violin but I had never given up my love of classical music, especially of the Baroque and early Romantic periods (Vivaldi, Telemann, Handel, Hadyn, Bach, Mozart, even Beethoven, etc…). I loved playing Vivaldi. I was probably in my 20s and by now had been on a quest to find spiritual truths as I felt strong tugs compelling me forward. By my 20s I had also come to recognize that Jesus was the real deal. Maybe not the only real deal but that he was the real deal. He was somehow connected with God, who by then I was convinced existed in some form. I was paying attention.

And then I heard the Messiah, with full chorus. I didn’t know the origin of the lyrics and didn’t understand much of it but I understood enough and I certainly understood and appreciated the music and the beauty of the instruments and vocals so remarkably woven together. I recognized it as something truly special and profound.

As the years went by and I wrestled with God, arguing and resisting and ignoring and doubting, I always came back to the Messiah, once in awhile attending a concert or listening to it when it was available. It was the one constant during that 30 years. The beauty of that piece of music. I have to admit, though, I never really tried to dive into the lyrics and certainly didn’t know that they were verbatim from scripture, nor that the composer pieced together this insanely complicated score in about three weeks.

Handel’s Messiah is the story of Jesus. The whole story. I believe it lasts something like 2 1/2 hours and has just one segment that is almost universally recognized: What is called the “Hallelujah Chorus.” Part way in is the story of Jesus’ birth and the events surrounding it. Later on it covers his ministry, death and resurrection. This was my heartfelt connection to the Christian faith during that long period, despite the fact I had earned that masters in Theology from a Catholic university. I did not attend church (though Diane did and our boys were in a Christian preschool and Sunday School) and even viscerally objected to many tenets I believed were foundational. There was no way I considered myself a Christian and while I saw some things in the religion I could point to favorably (mostly social justice things), I was completely disconnected from life lived in that faith.

Except for the Messiah.

Prevenient Grace.

If you have been with me on these blogs since last winter, you know what happened to me in March 2005. Everything changed in an instant. The gates were opened up. Scales fell away. Not only did God speak but he showed me. He showed me who he is and who I am. He showed me how he’d always been with me and now it was out in the open. He showed me a reality that I could never have understood after a thousand hours of reading or discussing. He proved to me who Jesus was.

And that changed Christmas. In a big way. In a really big way.

And, one of the first things to change was the call for me to return to the Messiah that following December. But, this time differently. With eyes to see and ears to hear.

I transcribed the entire vocal score, separating each piece and entitling it with the appropriate scripture reference. I printed up a copy, bound it and resolved to treat it from a whole new perspective.

That was the first time I prayed (not just played) Handel’s Messiah. I have done it every Christmas season since and will be doing so again soon. I listen to it in my study chair with earphones and Diane knows I cannot be disturbed. The prayer lasts 2/12 hours and it is amazing. I know a different kind of transportation each year and I am largely exhausted at the end. While the birth of Jesus does not play a particularly large part in the entire piece, it is still poignant and I am touched deeply. Christmas is upon us.

Next: Who is Jesus Anyway?

Lord, All I can say is Wow. You are so faithful. What a journey. This life has not always been easy but that doesn’t matter. Thank you for staying with this little boy, this questioning, proud and somewhat defiant young man, this person scarred and vulnerable yet with gifts to give and wonder to behold. Thank you for anointing a composer centuries ago to transform the greatest story into a thing of exquisite beauty. Thank you for giving me the ability to appreciate it and to see it as a prayer. May others find things and moments in their lives that help them to connect with you. Hallelujah. Amen.

John Glenn died yesterday at age 95.

I’d just sat down on the exercise bike at the gym in the afternoon when I looked up at the TV screen to see the announcement. Interestingly, I caught the very beginning of an hour long tribute to the famous astronaut on one of the all news stations … the exact amount of time I spend on the bike. I was able to read the closed caption dialogue as the report covered an enormous amount of ground, including pictures and video footage and interviews with other astronauts, historians and legislators. After all, Senator Glenn led a remarkable life well beyond his signature achievement in 1962.

As I pushed hard to get my cardio in while watching the report, I also had cause to reflect on a life like Glenn’s, why he was acclaimed as a hero, and what that has to say to us today.

My dad knew Glenn. They were in flight school together as young marine corps officers, flying out of Corpus Christi, Texas, before shipping off to the Pacific Theater in World War II. While both my dad and Glenn were originally assigned to fly transports, Glenn switched to fighters and eventually flew 59 combat missions. My dad flew the big twin engine C 46 “Commando” which brought troops and supplies into fighting areas in the South Pacific while bringing wounded out. Glenn went on to fly many combat missions in jet fighters in the Korean War and ended as a highly decorated combat pilot, and later, a test pilot. Of course, he later was chosen to be one of the original seven Mercury astronauts. He flew the third mission on Friendship 7 and was the first American to orbit the earth. He returned to a hero’s welcome and is one of the most celebrated figures of the 20th century. Later, he served as a four term Democratic Party Senator from his home state of Ohio and returned to space as a 77 year old, flying in the shuttle Discovery. John Glenn was always considered one of the most humble and gracious of people and followed a code he said he’d acquired from living a Norman Rockwell like life in Ohio as a boy growing up. While we lost one of the good guys yesterday, we can nod our heads in appreciation for his contribution to our heritage and for modeling a number of values clear heads must recognize as good.

As I continued my workout and watched the tribute, I also reflected that the previous day was the 75th anniversary of the most defining moment in our nation’s history in the 20th century. In fact, it was probably one of only a handful of singularly defining moments in the entire history of our nation, the early morning surprise attack on U.S. military forces at and near Pearl Harbor, Hawaii on December 7, 1941. A nation largely slumbering and trying to claw its way out of the Great Depression awakened to realize that our survival was now threatened and we had no choice but to respond. And, respond we did. Millions of American men and women entered the service to fight the scourge of totalitarianism that was completely antithetical to our fundamental concepts of liberty. We now refer to that generation, most of whom are gone now, as the Greatest Generation. They are called that for a reason.

Which brings to mind the concept of heroism.

Is there such a thing? If so, how do we define it? What do we think about it? Is our collective understanding of the concept evolving? If so, why and from what to what?

Was John Glenn a hero for being strapped into a small metal capsule atop a giant rocket that was little better than a huge bomb? It turns out all did not work on that flight and there was a time of doubt whether he would return safely. Reportedly, his heart rate didn’t change and he sang while waiting to see if he would splash down safely. His president … our president, the youthful and charismatic John Kennedy … had promised not long before that an American would walk on the moon and return safely by the end of the decade. A preposterous statement at the time as we really had not even test fired an effective rocket. Certainly John Glenn must have thought he was doing his duty to help our country meet such a goal and stay ahead of our enemy, the communist and totalitarian Soviet Union.

Most of those men (and women) enlisting and responding to draft notices in the early 1940s felt the call of duty and knew it was distinctly possible they would not return. Their parents and loved ones knew this too.

What is that call? What is that duty and what does that have to do with heroism?

I know we can probably do a really good study of the origin of heroism in Greek mythology but I don’t want to go there. I’d rather keep it relatively contemporary and not overly technical.

To me, heroism is something extraordinary, sometimes performed by quite ordinary people. When observed, it sets the person and action apart. It stops us in our tracks and forces us to reflect on what we just witnessed or heard about. We realize that we are witnesses to something out of our normal frame of reference. Simply, the action defies the instinct for self preservation or our desire to be safe and secure. The action requires great risk to life and the motive arrives from somewhere we’re not commonly in touch with.

From somewhere and maybe even in an instant, the man or woman resolves in an act of will to repress a lifetime of conditioning that says care for self at all costs. Instead, choosing to engage a threat that can seem overwhelming to reasonable people. And, they are heroic because the action is intended to bring about a greater good … something beyond the self.

I see some tremendous value in recognizing the importance of heroism. I also see some problems.

Let’s look at the problems first.

For starters, we can overvalue heroes and turn them into idols. And, idols are not good. They aren’t healthy. They distract us from the things that are really important and strip the hero of his or her humanity. While the hero can point to virtues that make us better, they are not a substitute and do not excuse us from paying attention in an honest fashion to our own journey.

Then, we can overuse the term, thereby devaluing its worthiness. As in all teachers are heroes or all firefighters and police are heroes or all members of our armed forces are heroes. People are not heroes because of their job or profession. People are heroes because of some action they engage. Now, some jobs or professions may provide greater opportunity for heroism by their nature, but I don’t believe we should use the term too loosely.

A third problem is that our current cultural trend is to something we can call post-modern … a label that is characterized by moral relativism or the desire to make every value nearly equal. In this vein, we give rise to the anti-hero and seek to diminish the value of the hero. Good necessarily must be shown as bad and bad as good. Traditional heroic figures are now presented as not only flawed but deeply flawed, with their flaws on full display. The message is clear. There can be no clear standards of good and bad … only struggles for some kind of dignity, always unfulfilled. Every “good” intention merely masks the real issue which is that despair is just around the corner. Post apocalyptic films or the deconstruction of something like the American intelligence community into constant conspiracy theories are examples. And so on with Batman vs. Superman, Breaking Bad (disclaimer: I understand it’s a highly respected show that I’ve never seen but remain aware of its story line) or the constant drumbeat of movie leads who completely lack virtue. Because, of course, virtue (a driving force for heroism) is anathema. Mankind is perfectible on its own and doesn’t need external standards to do so.

On the other hand …

What a wonderful thing to have examples of actions and people who help us to see that we are not the center of the universe. That there is something greater than I. People who act selflessly for the good of another at great personal risk. Jesus said in John 15:13, “Greater love has no one but this, that one lay down his life for his friends.” Jesus is referring to something we call agape love, where we put the needs of others above our own. It is unconditional and sacrificial. That deserves repeating and thinking about: Love that is unconditional and sacrificial.

Which brings me back to John Glenn and something about him that I see as a thread going through many heroes. They are not boastful and are largely reluctant to think they did something special. While others look at them with awe, they are not inwardly focused, thereby they do not see themselves as others see them. This innate humility is a characteristic of one who lives with the virtue of agape love.

There’s a large street on Marine Corps Camp Pendleton named Basilone after John Basilone. If you want, google his story. In recognition for his heroism on Guadalcanal early in WWII, Basilone was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. Ever humble, he did not particularly like the limelight and eventually requested reassignment back into a fighting unit. He was killed leading his men, just two hours after arriving on the terrible beaches of Iwo Jima. He was the only Marine in the war to receive both the Medal of Honor and Navy Cross. Countless numbers of the men he led credited him for saving their lives.

I don’t think heroes ever look at their actions as extraordinary and in that way they are quite special. In our present culture, we think everything is extraordinary and award the most trivial or base actions with notoriety and riches. Movie, TV, and music celebrities shout out ME, ME and then figure it’s critical we all know their opinion on everything.

The hero shouts nothing but quietly does his or her duty as if it’s the most natural thing. John Glenn straps himself on top of something akin to a bomb with a distinct possibility that it will blow up and just as quietly deals with the fact that his heat shield is busted while reentering the atmosphere. John Basilone just re-ups because it’s the right thing to do and “I’m not really all that good at being a hero anyway,” so goes out and does the same thing again, this time paying the ultimate price.

Most of us will never be faced with a decision on whether to act heroically, although if some of us do, I imagine we’ll take on the threat without thinking twice.

As fellow astronaut Scott Carpenter said to Glenn while he was strapping himself into that tiny metal capsule, “Godspeed, John.”

Yes, Godspeed John Glenn. Thank you for your life and for giving us an example of something really fine.

Lord: Thank you for giving us examples of sacrifice in the cause of things greater than ourselves. Help us to clear away so much mud today that only fosters confusion where clarity is called for. Yes, most of know we are flawed and the best among us seek to overcome them. However, we also recognize that the celebration of those flaws is to deny the most important of eternal truths: Your love for us. And, we can live a life accordingly, having little or no need to call attention to our own selves for some kind of approval. Instead, when some of us are faced with a significant challenge, we just do the right thing with no thought as to its impact on us. That is the breeding ground for heroism and we are thankful for it. Amen.

This is the holiday season.

Off the top of my head, I’ll take a wild guess that it’s the period between the fourth Thursday in November and the first of January. In that five or so week timeframe, we have three actual holidays. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Years. That is if we take the term “holiday” literally as a day off from work. My handy dictionary app also says these days off are “festive” days. In other words, they are cause for celebration, other than the fact we can sleep in or have some delightful discretionary time.

Before we retired, I really looked forward to this period as one who worked very hard, even though I was grateful for my job and generally really enjoyed what I did while working. In the schools of course, we got extended holidays, although as an administrator they weren’t as lengthy as teachers received. Regardless, in the cycle of my former profession, this five week stretch was always extremely welcome.

But, whether we working people or students get long breaks or extra long weekends or whatever paid vacation our employers provide on top of the three national holidays, I think most of us choose to honor the festive side of things, as well. Most, not all, enjoy a celebration and all it entails. Getting together with family and friends, probably lots of food and some drink, decorations, laughter, the giving and getting of gifts and so on. As it’s a season, this period is very different from the other holidays we celebrate as a nation and culture: Martin Luther King Day, Presidents Day, Easter, Memorial Day, Independence Day and Veterans Day. Those one-offs are nice if we don’t have to work and maybe get to have a BBQ, a short ski trip, or the prospect of just a four day work week. But, they don’t produce a season or anything like the five week stretch we’re in right now.

Why am I bringing this up?

Because as much as I liked the holidays or paid vacations while a student or employed and as much as I am grateful that our children and friends working hard get some well-earned time off, I don’t want to lose sight of the reason we’re celebrating. The reason we decorate our homes, cook delicious meals, gather with family and friends, share gifts and good cheer. While each of these things is immensely worthy on its own … goodness, parties with friends and loved ones can be great! … we can easily gloss over the point of the thing in the first place. And, maybe it’s just me, but that’s kind of sad.

Memorial Day is a case in point.

As the son of a Marine Corps pilot and WWII veteran, married to the daughter of an Air Force pilot and veteran, I always respected the sacrifice so many have made on my behalf. While I have not always agreed with the reasons they were sent to die, I never diminished the value of what they did. Then, I became principal of Grossmont High School.

Very shortly after I arrived as the new principal, I met a man lovingly nicknamed Little Eddie. Little Eddie was maybe 5 feet tall, certainly not much more. He might have weighed 90 pounds. In his 80s. I don’t think he had any teeth. He had retired from the US Navy as a master chief and had become a custodian at the school where he served faithfully for many decades. When he retired, he still came every day in his same tan work outfit and putzed around the campus doing small odd jobs that helped keep a school built in 1922 half way functioning. I believe he was the second person to arrive each day at work. I was usually the first, around 6am, opening the front office. My first task was to make the coffee for some of our office staff. The pot sat outside my office on a counter. Little Eddie would arrive 5 or 10 minutes later, take a sip of the fresh brew and cackle out with no teeth: “This has to be the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted!” I always joined him in laughter. This was repeated every single day without fail. I grew to love the man and he grew to love me.

Little Eddie was a Pearl Harbor survivor. He was right there when it started and he emerged alive, serving the rest of the war on surface ships. Thankfully, he made it through while many he knew did not.

At some point in the month before Memorial Day, Little Eddie told me that it was a tradition that he always put on his dress uniform and stood at attention next to the flagpole where students arrived to school on the Friday before the long Memorial Day weekend. I was moved by this dedication. Upon reflection, I shared an idea with him and he agreed. I asked our Band Director to lend me his top trumpeter. So, on that Friday morning, after Little Eddie had been standing straight at attention in his perfect uniform, resplendent with ribbons and with about 5 or 10 minutes before the bell to start school, I went on the public address system to invite people to join us at the flagpole. The trumpeter played taps as we lowered the flag to half staff. I know Little Eddie shed some tears as did many of us. And, as the first class convened, I went back on the public address system and spoke to the students and staff about why were going to be taking Monday off and asked them to join me in a moment of silence.

In the following years, we invited all staff who had served to join us at the flagpole, wearing their uniforms if they could still fit. 🙂 We even had some parents. If you have ever heard taps played for someone you love, you never forget it. Little Eddie, ramrod straight, was as poignant a reminder as we could have on why we had a holiday. He died a few years after I left Grossmont High School. Rest in Peace, Master Chief Edward DeCoito. I miss you.

Which brings me back to the season we’re in right now. A couple of weeks ago, we celebrated the first of the three days that bracket “The Holidays.”

During his first term as president, George Washington called for an official day of prayer and thanksgiving. Thomas Jefferson opposed it due to his belief in the separation of church and state. The idea remained relatively dormant until October 3, 1863 when Abraham Lincoln announced that the fourth Thursday in November would always be celebrated as an official Thanksgiving. It has remained so.

Perhaps it’s because the older I get, the more I feel I have to be grateful for. Or maybe it’s something else. Diane and I officially give thanks each night as we hold hands before dinner. Guests to our home never seem to mind participating. We also pause in the same way while eating out. It’s just important to us that we bow our heads at least once a day and express some things we’re truly grateful for, recognizing that they are really gifts. These are not really perfunctory words, but hopefully heart felt. Ideally, we similarly pause at various points throughout each day to give thanks for things large and small that we receive as blessings. So, of course, I appreciate that we can label one of our 365 days as Thanksgiving.

But, what is happening? I don’t think I heard the term “Turkey Day” ten years ago. Now, it’s ubiquitous. Why? I guess it’s just a cute little cultural shift but words carry meaning and important words carry significant meaning. A day that most of us have always consumed turkey by tradition is now becoming defined by that bird and meal. The president pardons the turkey … all in fun … we feast gladly on the bounty. Many of us have our traditional group of friends and family and I always look forward to the celebration.

Am I making a mountain out of a mole hill? Should I just roll with the punch and not flinch when I hear Turkey Day time after time? Maybe so. But, I really do want a holiday where we give thanks and not just a quick comment but a chance to connect with loved ones on a deeper level to share the things we’re truly grateful for. Now, that is Thanksgiving. Then, let’s go eat some turkey.

Next, of course, Christmas.

Lord, we do give you thanks. Please help us to recognize the many ways we are blessed each day. Yes, we have struggles and challenges and sometimes we call on you to resolve them. Sometimes we don’t much feel like giving thanks. And, that’s why we need help. And, some of that help can be in the form of opening our eyes to the needs of others every day in every circumstance. Wouldn’t it be great if another person was so brightened by a chance exchange with us that they gave a kind of thanks? I think so. Amen.

I imagine most of us have heard the phase, “There but for the grace of God goeth I.” I don’t know how many of us actually recall it with any regularity. I like to think I do but, come to think of it, maybe I should monitor it better.

After all, it’s a pretty powerful saying and not to be passed over lightly. Maybe the secular version would go something like, “I guess I’m really fortunate and thankful that I’m not in that person’s predicament.” While these are similar, they are not the same. However, I’m not here to dissect the saying(s) but to get to the general point.

I’m getting to the place where it’s time to start exploring what to do about this pride/humility thing. I’ve touched on the case that humility is something that is good and pride something with hidden (or pronounced) dangers.

Allow me to backtrack a moment, though.

I need to further contextualize. Humility is good insofar as it leads to surrender and to the knowledge that our value is from outside of ourselves. From that framework, we can develop other virtues such as compassion, patience and charity. Unfortunately, humility can also be the result of some type of imposed oppression, either from within or without. This may not manifest in humility as a virtue but as a prison from which freedom is only an unsatisfied desire. Victims of abuse may have been humbled through no effort of their own but remain powerless to live a free and humble life.

What gives?

Remember what Tim Keller said: “Humility is not thinking less of oneself but in thinking of oneself less.” A person caught in the web of oppression is trained to think less of themselves. Not a good thing. Actually a terrible thing in their case and something for the rest of us to reckon with.

So, what does a life look like that is humbly led in a state of authentic freedom?

Well, I suspect it would be hard for others to use the word “arrogant” to describe such a person. I suspect it would be hard for others to use the word “judgmental” to describe such a person. I suspect words such as “caring” and “ compassionate” and “empathetic” would be words others would use to describe such a person. I suspect a humble person would be seen as an encourager and promoter of others before self. I suspect that a humble person would be seen as having a kind heart, reserving the intellect rather than leading with it. The humble person would be seen as genuinely curious about what is important to others. Not just news, although that would be fine, but curious about another’s hopes and fears … where the rubber hits the road.

I know some genuinely humble people. More now than I did a short ten years or so ago. Not to say that I did not know humble people earlier and am thankfully close to them now but I just know many more. They are all an inspiration.

One benefit Diane and I had from our professional careers was our immersion into the lives of hundreds and thousands of people who struggled. Diane spent many years in the barrio and it never left her, even when she returned to our nice middle class home in the evening or on weekends. She was seen as a teacher (are there any better?) but she was so much more than what the public would describe as her basic role. She cared for children and families without food and clothing or phones at home. Many, many of them. Looking at those sweet faces, full of promise but short on basic needs, can only result in compassion and empathy. I spent years with drugs and violence, gang life, hunger, teen pregnancy, child abuse. Always. Sobering, to say the least. How to respond when each day saw these experiences for the both of us as normative? Raised in privilege, gifted with bright minds and other things, these experiences were truly humbling. “Why do I get to go home to peace and they don’t?” Fortunately, neither of us chose despair but found the will to keep living in their worlds. I mention this to say that, thankfully, our lives allowed us to connect with other people on the most basic of levels and to see value where often society and circumstance dictated otherwise.

Well, so much for that! All of that and $2 gets you a basic cup of coffee at the local Starbucks. Or so the saying goes.

Ok, so we benefited from a window into suffering that many in our western wealthy society don’t see or else are inured against. Yes, this thing called suffering. Or its too frequent product: brokenness. Yes, we grew in our capacities to care for others, demonstrate compassion and charity but here’s the deal: Pride is still as insidious a force as ever. If you buy the Genesis creation story, it’s the reason for the Fall. Even if you don’t want to take that story literally (a battle I’m not going to take on here), pride can be and is a cancer that eats away at humanity. (I will take that one on.) None of us are immune. Diane and I know this and we talk about it. It deserves some attention.

I have come across people who describe themselves as very judgmental. I’m not sure if they are proud of that or not. Maybe some are. I do not want to be described as judgmental, although I know that I certainly am.

Allow me to say that there is a great difference between exercising sound judgment and being something we can call “judgmental.” I think everyone reading this could probably describe the difference.

My immediate family would say that I’m less judgmental and more caring then I was ten years ago. Maybe even five years ago. Thankfully. It hasn’t been easy. I had a slow start. Raised in an overtly intellectual household where ideas and causes were given far more attention and value than basic human relationships and demonstrations of love, made later adaptation more challenging. When a child is raised without anyone telling him he is truly loved, the acquiring of deep compassion for others is more difficult. Thankfully, in my case, I had some sensitive gene from somewhere that allowed me to know that I was really missing something and that my job was to go out and find it. Still, the bad habits are deeply embedded and give themselves up kicking and screaming.

Which about brings me to the piece I wrote to the Monday morning guys.

Now, what follows is an overtly Christian piece. No getting around it. It may seem foreign to those who follow a different path or who don’t see themselves on a journey with a particular destination. It is written to nine other men who consider themselves disciples … learners with a masterful teacher … and who seek to be different in the future than they/we are now. These men are all what society would describe as accomplished. Half have doctorates. One, a former naval captain, currently employed in industry responsible for complex communication equipment. One a physician. One a theologian and missionary. One the owner of an architectural company. One a world-respected nuclear physicist. One a music minister. One a retired pharmacological scientist. One a mechanical engineer and youth group leader. One a former educational leader. You get the point. Men who live and prosper in middle and upper middle class north San Diego County. All are married. All have children except one who lost his only young adult child to suicide eleven years ago. Nearly every one has children who struggle with issues, some of whom struggle immensely. Most have battled difficult illnesses, either themselves or with close family members.

In many ways we are very typical. We celebrate many things in our lives and we get hit hard with some of the difficult things. We are largely aware of the world around us and have opinions on many things. Of those, we may agree and disagree. Some are what could be called conservative and some are what could be called liberal. All have served or are serving as leaders … in jobs and in family life. All enjoy humor but can be serious when called for. A good number, maybe not all, were athletes at some point or are still. While we share some real similarities, we clearly have different personalities, different skill sets, different natural gifts, different deficits. Actually, we don’t always agree on some points of theology, which may be surprising. Some have been Christians most or all of their lives. Others more recently. I’m the newest. Some were what could be called nominal Christians, sort of “go to church on Sunday because it was the right thing to do.” But, since, things have changed.

All subscribe to the simple phrase “Iron Sharpens Iron.” It’s a piece from Proverbs 27:17 in the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible that says: “Iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”

While men may know this intuitively from experience in athletic competition, from the military, or in a competitive work environment, my experience is that it’s rarely invoked intentionally. We are often hard edged, protective of who we are and slow to invite sharpening. Real sharpening that requires transparency and the admission that sharpening is a good thing that requires work. But if we look at life as a journey of transformation from one thing to another, we all need sharpening. Growth just doesn’t occur in a vacuum. Cognitive dissonance resolved through insight requires embracing contrasting realities and leaving the status quo behind.

We Monday morning men (like many others) are on a kind of pilgrimage. We surrender at O Dark Thirty to arise in the dark and trudge to meet around a large table in a local church. For the first six years or so, we met from 6-7:30am. Since, it’s 6:15-7:15am. Woohoo! We share. We pray. We study and discuss. We laugh a lot and sometimes the eyes shed tears. Relationships are forged or deepened. Some are friends and gather socially outside of the meeting. Some not so much.

You may be incredibly bored by now if you’ve made it this far. But I wanted to mention all of this because it’s SO UNUSUAL!! Men have friends. Men may have friends with whom they share many interests. Men may have friends they’d lay down their lives for. Men may have friends with whom they’ve shared a whole lot of life together, the good and the bad. Men may have friends who they’d consider as close as brothers. But, very few men get together regularly to participate in iron sharpening iron. Very few men are comfortable with vulnerability and transparency. Very few men are accustomed to opening themselves to a number of others with the purpose of asking for help to manage life’s many challenges. We are a proud gender and leave it, typically, to women to share more intimate details of interior lives with their close women friends. It’s just not a guy thing to do. Typically.

But Jesus chose a group of just regular guys to train in how to live as God designed. And in ways both gentle and, occasionally, harsh, he modeled iron sharpening iron. And, to use another metaphor, he spoke about the importance of pruning to the development of robust blooms and fruit. As a plant can waste critical energy on parts that will detract from the blooms … hence benefit from pruning … so do we. At times, the pruning can be just a quick snip here and there. At others, a limb might really be dead weight or even diseased and needs to be hacked off. We joke that when the chain saws appear, watch out!

Who submits voluntarily to be snipped or chopped? Well, maybe if we’re desperate (see therapy, couples’ counseling, 12 step programs, etc…) but what if we don’t feel desperate? Life is generally OK? And here is where it gets interesting. Does this mean we don’t need pruning? We don’t really need to expose ourselves to the sharpening influence of another’s iron?

And, that brings us back full circle to my blog a few days ago that started this thread. We were in this chapter on Psalm 131, which the author of our book interpreted as dealing with humility. And, in that chapter we discussed pride and humility and the nature of pruning. Pruning as a function of discipleship and how to lead the life intended for us all along. As I say in the first part of my “letter” to them, I felt we needed to explore some deeper implications. I was not present the following week as we were camping but I heard this Monday that they spent the entire time discussing those implications. At O Dark Thirty.

Here it is. I changed the names and did a very minor edit for posting here.

Hey Gents,

While doing some regular cardio on the gym bike yesterday, I began reflecting on our morning’s discussion. As always, it was good and thought provoking. Like Don mentioned, I appreciate when those of us so-inclined share a vulnerability or admit to a frailty … thereby personalizing any theory we’re grappling with. Our group has never adopted a model of self help/therapy as we have very limited time to plow through a lot … from getting coffee and updating one another to praying and discussing. But, thankfully, we’ve always welcomed and encouraged a level of sharing joys and sorrows that are not commonplace among men in our culture. What a blessing.

I’m writing for two reasons … first, I’m not sure we really finished pulling some of the pearls out of the chapter. At least, that’s my opinion. Perhaps we’ll want to consider picking up where we left off while reading ahead to the next one in case we decide to move on. Just a suggestion. (By the way, I may not be in town … we’re adjusting some travel plans and we could leave on a camping trip or go to Idyllwild this weekend, early next week.)

The second reason is to share some things that came to me during my reflection, given that the chapter was entitled humility.

I loved how Jim spoke to us about a recent experience of something approaching humiliation (sorry, Jim, if I misheard) that resulted in humility and a deeper appreciation of how God works to shape us (prune) to become more Christlike. I know from experience how powerful this can be. I then reflected on the passage in John 8 about the adulteress facing stoning and how Jesus responded. Of course, that poor woman was deeply humiliated and worse. Her sin was exposed as lethal and her humiliation was to be followed with the ultimate sentence and painfully so. Of course, we all know how it turns out. Jesus points the finger back at the accusers and then forgives the woman, telling her to sin no more.

The sin of lust was exposed but resolved through grace, an infinitely more powerful force. And that grace was then complemented by exposing the alternative sin: hard hearts expressed as judgmentalism.

Then my mind went back to Peterson (note for the blog: the author, Eugene Peterson) sharing the tale of Faust, his deal with the devil and the greatest sin of all: Believing we deserve to have the power of God to satisfy our mortal cravings. And, we know what happened to Adam and Lucifer.

Isn’t it this sin that keeps us from being humble? That keeps us from sharing our frailties or, more pointedly, from looking inside to admit we are broken? Of course the opposite of humble is prideful. Oh, we can make noise that we humbly serve others and are basically compassionate people. But, too often, I suspect, that protects us from actually assuming the posture of those being served … as needing saving from our own attempts to maintain positions with titles or recognition in its many forms.

Why is it that lust and sex or their cousin, addiction, gets all the attention? These sins can be enormously destructive as we know and the temptations sinister. This, while we don’t open ourselves to explore how insidious pride can be and how it is manifested in so many ways … many of which are invisible to our own internal perspective? Why is it that so many Christians … followers of Jesus … resist adopting the tools necessary to actually proceed with the pruning?

I think we somehow over rely on prayer and the periodic challenges (some of which are significant and very disruptive) to do the pruning work. While I can certainly testify that these two things work and even amazingly so, I do not believe that’s nearly enough and I say that from experience. I think we need to be in relationship with other trusted followers of Jesus, to whom we give the authority to whittle away at our defenses on a regular basis. Again, from experience, I have found this kind of “long obedience” to be immensely helpful in the pilgrimage to which we are all called. It’s where the rubber meets the road. To me, it’s every bit as critical to our walk as prayer or reading scripture, attending communal worship or reading the brilliant works of people far brighter or wiser than we are. I have found, in these places (my long stint in therapy to resolve some powerful issues stemming from childhood and clinging destructively into advanced adulthood as well as weekly intentional meetings with covenant or accountability partners) that God shows up regularly and I am a remarkably different person as a result. And, I think many people who know me would agree.

No one held me accountable in my prior pre-Christian life. I, only, held myself accountable to achieving whatever standard or goal I determined was the right one. I resisted allowing others into the parts of my life I was uncomfortable with (when I was willing to acknowledge them) assuming I even understood them or was even aware they existed. Of course, I shared concerns and struggles with Diane but not even she was aware of the complete picture … and I’ve always been accused of being a sensitive guy. 🙂  As a somewhat bright and literate man, I had read thousands of books and could chat at length on a wide range of topics … from history to biology … from cosmology to economics … from theology to technology. But, that knowledge obfuscated the fact that I was broken. I have come across Christians like this.

I sometimes willingly want to fall into the trap that says surrender is just telling God, “I admit I’m prideful. I’m sorry. I admit I’m judgmental. I know that’s wrong. Please forgive me and help me to improve.” Or something like that. Not that this is bad or that God can’t work with it. My point is that I don’t believe this is nearly enough.

Which brings us back to Jim’s point in a roundabout way. The humiliation that is the direct byproduct of being faced with a Holy God is the door to grace and eternal life. When we are exposed as harboring false idols, the fact of which are often truly obscured from our conscious life, we feel guilt and shame depending upon the degree requiring pruning. Upon recognition and the plea for forgiveness … which is much more than a plea but a primal crying out … our loving God then responds with a shower of grace, the like of which is unmatched in experience.

Who, then is our model? I choose the adulteress or the woman at the well. Or Saul of Tarsus (later Paul), bent upon evil, laid flat and exposed. I will fall short because my nature, like most, is to keep me protected from such exposure, not to mention a false belief that I harbor an interior life that is largely sin-free.

The good news is that almost immediately after hearing the voice of God and fully surrendering, I felt the prayer rise up inside, requesting that he put me in the company of men who could lead me forward. This was deep calling to deep and I happened to be along for the ride. No coincidence that the doors opened up quickly and this group has been one of the most delightful results.

And, so I became acquainted with earthly gardeners, God’s hands, feet and heart, as they probe and prod, clip and even saw off pieces that need removing for the blooms to burst forward.

Humbling? Yes. On occasion, humiliating? Unfortunately … but what the heck? It never lasts, thank God!!  That Christ is pretty amazing, when we let him. 🙂

I guess that’s about it. Thanks for listening if you managed to make it this far. You guys are awesome.

Blessings,

Brad

Lord, thank you for opening the door to the kind of life you intended for us all along. While we have to give up understanding everything about life and all of creation, we can know this: life with you is infinitely better than life without you. And, yes, the pruning or sharpening sometimes hurts but you never promised it would be easy. Just good. And you are right. We need help along the way and so we pray that you would surround us with people who love and care for us and to whom we can be open, inviting them to help us see that which is not so clear to us. All in the cause of growing into healthier men and women who demonstrate many of those virtues and are a blessing to others. Amen.