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.

One of the challenges in writing this blog is that, apparently, there are readers who span quite a spectrum of beliefs. Of course, many are professed Christians while others range from unsure to non-Christian faiths to atheism. Respectfully, I try to avoid much overtly religious terminology in order to cut to the chase without the distraction of some loaded words. On the other hand, this is my attempt at honesty and transparency and sometimes a word is the right word, just as a concept is the right concept.  At least that’s how I see it!

So, back to virtue and sin. And, specifically, Humility and Pride.

As I’ve said over and over, it’s about choices. The honest person realizes this. Avoidance is a choice, as well. Either life for us has purpose or not. If there is no purpose, then there can be no right or wrong. Ever. Nor good or bad. Ever. I have yet to have an extended conversation with anyone who says life has no purpose, although I’ve read the European existentialist philosophers, some of whom come quite close. They tend to end up in despair and were known to toss out the idea that suicide is the only honest act a person can make. Charming.

Most of the rest of us, however, quite contentedly admit to purpose until the choice is presented between purpose as the pure expression of self-interest or as a universal objective standard independent of an individual’s opinion or experience.

This can bring things to a screeching halt. And, yes, a fork in the road. We’ve talked about this many times. And every fork is just a question requiring an answer, a choice. Some of us make the choice clearly and with vigor. “I am the one who will determine what is best for me. No one has the right to tell me otherwise. My value is what I make of it.” Or, “I realize I am not the one to determine what is right for me as against what is right for someone else. Right and wrong have objective standing outside of my life and experience.”

I struggled for years at this crossroads. Being me, I tried to avoid making a vigorous choice, seeing some unsettling things down each pathway. So, I kind of tried to manufacture a hybrid third direction, drawing from the principal two that stood in stark relief to one another. As a wise person could have easily said, “How’s that working for you?” Not so well.

And, then, the fog cleared. For me, in an instant. Would have made a thunderclap a whisper. A crystalline truth that seemed to bore into every molecule in my body. Something way beyond my capacity to manufacture. What had been a pretty vivid life in my experience was as a dense fog against this newly presented reality. I’ve written a bit about this before but I’ll come to the point here.

There is a true north, after all. There really is. Everyone is free to say there isn’t, of course. And, I have the utmost respect for those who disagree with me. However, I know what I know and I did not arrive there lightly. Once the veil was lifted, the path was clear. Actually, a choice was required but it was the easiest choice I ever made. As light as air in the afterthought.

And with it in the months and years that followed, evolved an understanding of the concepts of virtue and sin. Of course, they were never all that distant because I had a pretty decent conscience, albeit less powerful than I wish in hindsight. Virtue or the plural “virtues” is/are that which pull us towards the thing I call true north. Kind of like if the Death Star was actually a really cool Life Star and it was really, really good and had this tractor beam …. You get the picture. But, being us, we try to get out of the tractor beam because we don’t want to be told what is good and bad. That would be too controlling, as tractor beams can be. And, if our will is really strong and our minds sharp, we can figure out how to reverse engines or steer towards the edges. Because of course, we want to be in charge and surrender is a really bad thing, especially if it’s to someone others call Lord or King. Come on now.

But, what if the beam is Truth and Light and Love and Grace and what is required is surrender into a life where the virtues come naturally and are not received as burdens but as freedoms?

Where surrender is freedom and the light is so strong and the force so great that we can’t help but fall prostrate and see ourselves as God sees us, warts and gifts without cover?  God says “I’ll show you how to live. Let me help you. I offer this tractor beam as a free gift.”

A gift we struggle against every day. Because we are human and want to be our own gods. That is sin.

And, the worst thing is when our pride says don’t surrender. Surrender is what weak people do! Battle it. Be free of it! Pride is insidious. It’s so tempting in its tug that exclaims we are in charge.

Are we actually in charge? Another choice it is (as Yoda would say). (Wow, didn’t know Star Wars would be making such an appearance today!) 🙂

The tractor beam, infinitely powerful as it is, will allow us to connive our way out.  Maybe it’s incrementally at first … if we were ever even there. I can’t fault Karl Marx for characterizing it as an opium because he saw how the rigid and powerful institutional church had used its position to deny the reasons it existed in the first place. So, we arrive at a place where the tractor beam is called bad or, perhaps, simply irrelevant. In our eye, it dims and becomes of little or no consequence.

We can now stand tall and know we do not need help. We are the masters of our universes. Pride is our master.

Humility is seeing ourselves, all of ourselves … exterior and interior lives in vivid color … as God sees us. And, that’s both sobering and stunning. Our value is not of our own making but comes from him as a gift. The God of all gives us this most precious of gifts. He actually knows me inside and out and loves me unconditionally. No more or less than anyone else. Just completely and unconditionally. Now, that is humbling.

A life where sin has a strong foothold is a life unable to recognize the beauty and truth of the source of the tractor beam. It is a life which says turn away. A life where virtues are considered good is a life within the dimensions of the beam.

Two more things. The tractor beam is Jesus calling us home to the source of all life. And all we have to do is ask and surrender. I spent decades thinking that was just plain ridiculous. Me, an intelligent guy in the 20th century. Either I’m right now or I’m seriously deluded. No other option. Those of you who know me, what do you think?

OK. A third thing. There is no sin too great, nor is there a life lived too poorly, nor is there a belief too strange that can separate us and keep us from the life and promises that await. In fact, the most amazing force in all that is, Grace, is just ready to obliterate any obstacle that would keep us from the promises.

I apologize. I got carried in a direction. I still want to get back to that piece I wrote for the Monday morning men but that will have to wait as I’m depleted for now.

Lord, help us to see our choices clearly and the consequences of our choices. Let us not get overly caught up in loaded words like sin and virtue but in what sits behind those words. Help us to see ourselves as you see us and not in the ways we manufacture. Thank you for your patience and grace as we muck about here in this life, trying to live good lives but sometimes falling short or getting distracted. Please forgive us when we mess up and help us to forgive others when we feel harmed. Help us to think of ourselves less as we gaze upon you and through you on so many others that inhabit our lives. Knowing what you think of us should be all we need to sustain us in this life. But, thankfully, we rejoice in the love and care of those around us that give life so much of its beauty. Amen.

Let’s take a small step back and ask a few questions about humility. Later, I think we’ll explore its significance and the idea of how it can change us.

While I mentioned the word “virtue” yesterday, I stayed away from its opposite. On purpose. At worst, I imagine the concept of virtue is treated as a kind of nice, non-threatening idea … but not something we really need to think about. Or, it’s whatever we make of it as in if I’m true to my beliefs, I’m basically a virtuous person, kind of like “integrity” which can be a very good thing  but it’s not the same thing. My handy little built-in dictionary app that I’m not particularly impressed with says that it is a “quality or behavior that is considered morally good or desirable, even useful.” In an age of moral relativism, I’m not sure how profound this definition is. It certainly begs many other questions. At best, though, virtue is the magnetized point on the compass that pulls us strongly in a certain very positive direction. Virtue recognizes that life is not simple and is a journey with a destination. It tugs and compels, rather than just clarifies.

We began getting at this thing called Humility which in one very traditional list is lumped alongside its siblings Chastity, Temperance, Charity, Diligence, Patience and Kindness. These postures were valued as the antidote to their opposite seven: Pride, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, Lust, Sloth, and Greed.

Not the stuff of modern or dinner table conversation. A throwback to a distant pre-scientific age? Let’s ask ourselves, as collections, which ones would we rather emphasize as important to our children? The question begs an answer, a choice. We have to determine if one set is better than the other as a general guideline for living. Presumably, you won’t hear many parents preaching or teaching the latter list. Why is that? Have we determined that there is some absolute metric that is better than another, regardless of what some may believe? Where does that come from? If we make a choice as to which group we’d rather choose to influence our children, then we honestly need to ask why and what is the origin of that why?

Which brings us to that terribly out of vogue (or contrarily, that terribly over used) word: Sin.

Ah, the attack on our modern and enlightened sensibilities! Whereas we can embrace or even just stomach the concept of virtue, many of us bridle at the idea of sin. It’s so judgmental, for pete sake. A throwback to the pre modern idea that there is embodied evil, the supreme example of whom is this fallen angel named Lucifer, better known as the Devil. Fire and pitchforks. Eternal damnation. A virtuous life buys you heaven and a sinful life buys you hell. The better part of western society has either left that paradigm altogether or is in the process of trying to.

But the problem is you can’t have one without the other. Not anywhere in human experience.

Gluttony is not gluttony unless measured against temperance. Greed is not greed unless measured against charity. And pride is not pride unless measured against humility.

I mentioned yesterday that the opposite of humility might be arrogance or even narcissism. In the classic reading, the opposite of humility is pride. And this one hurts. As we all know pride and are even proud of our pride!! We celebrate our pride! And wait for it …

Pride has been labeled the most deadly of sins.

Does that mean humility is the greatest of virtues?

Does this discussion really have anything to do with how I live my life or should live my life? Especially in 2016. Really?

For the moment, let’s part with any “religious” interpretations and look at these fourteen postures without a God. And, let’s then hone in on pride and humility, realizing that far too much has been written about these things than we can have time for here. By any definition, pride is having an elevated sense of one’s value or the value of one’s achievements or the value of one’s community, etc…  Most frequently, this is manifested as a comparison, as in I have performed better than those other people or my team is better than yours or my kids are more deserving of playing time or I sure did graduate from a premier college as against those other people who for whatever reason didn’t graduate from as premier a college.

Actually, pride is kind of fun as well as being the natural extension of membership in a family, tribe or ethnicity. We are, in fact, communal creatures and tend to trust those with whom we live collaboratively, sharing values and resources. Really then, what’s so wrong with hanging that well-deserved diploma on the wall, having titles that command respect, showcasing trophies and waving whatever flag we believe best tells the world who we are?

Why on earth would some group of philosophers or theologians going back to and before antiquity, call out pride as the most dangerous of inclinations?

I mean, we get lust (fleshly pursuits without boundaries) and gluttony (addiction) and wrath (unbridled anger and contempt elevated to destruction) but pride? What’s with that? The worst?

Believe me, I struggle with pride. You may not but I do. And the more I understand it and its power, the more I need help to fend off the strength of its attractions.

I am no philosopher but I’ll toss out that I think a main reason pride is dangerous is because of its insidious nature. I like the word “insidious” because it sort of sounds like its definition. It means proceeding in a gradual or subtle way, resulting in harmful effects. It burrows and sets its tentacles, reorienting our attentions. What at first seems completely harmless by reasonable measures can, unchecked, evolve into a force as destructive as any we know. While I’m not a philosopher, I am a trained historian and this thing I know.

But we don’t have to go there right now. Let’s just look at the less severe or more subtle forms and its implications. And, then, back to humility.

A common joke here is the statement, “I’m the humblest person I know.” Or, “look at my actions and how I’m always standing up for the disadvantaged.”  Yes! Look at me!

Let’s remember Keller’s statement that humility is just thinking of one’s self less. Here’s where it begins.

A confession: At age 50, I was at the pinnacle of my profession. Sought out and hired to build a brand new high school, the unrealized dream of many of my peers. I was deemed largely responsible for helping my last high school navigate the most difficult period in its 75 year history: In an 11th month period, the suicides of five of our students with the Santana and Granite Hills shootings and 9/11 sandwiched in between. This wasn’t really about educational theory. It was about saving lives. The approvals poured in. I was doing really good stuff and few would have labeled me as arrogant, especially as I showed tremendous sensitivity to the suffering. I had all of the tools. Intelligent. Experienced. Insightful. Effective at producing results. And so I was “promoted” to start the thing from scratch: Design the best school to do the best thing for thousands of people. I took the task seriously, immersing myself into the work, very aware that I was being given tremendous responsibility. In a sense, the whispering voice said “you were made for this. this will be your magnum opus.” And, the voice continued, “don’t screw it up. Think of who and what is depending on you.”  What could be so wrong with this? What did I not see?

What I saw, I denied. The thing that got so much attention masked an honest appraisal of who I am and the real challenges of living the right kind of life.

My pride was good pride. My humility was not contrived. I visited ramshackle camps where some of my students lived without plumbing or electricity to better understand how to serve them. I did ride alongs with beat deputies to see where gang members lived and hung out. I entered apartments of dangerous students, pulled weeds and picked up trash, became as close to our custodian as I was to our best teachers. Made connections with countless agencies to help those in my community in need. I encouraged and cared for others. And people looked on and said this is very good.

Then it came crashing down. The proverbial house of cards. I was so focused on what to do and what to accomplish (remember, I was not some modern Simon Legree bent on domination but one of the good guys) that I lost sight of true north. The compass had never been set properly and the more I advanced in the cause of good, the more I avoided the basic fact that I was hurting deep down inside and had never been completely honest with myself or others the nature of the hurt. The insidious nature of pride had got its foothold. Poof.

Now, not all people experience these kinds of highs and lows. But the thing about highs and lows is it kind of focuses your attention. It certainly did mine. Recall, as I often do, the myth of Icarus. His father warned him about hubris, over confidence or extreme pride. Icarus ignored the advice and chose to fly high … in his case, too close to the sun, when his manufactured wings melted and he plunged to destruction. Hubris and pride. This, of course, is one source of the well-known phrase, “Pride Goeth Before the Fall.” What is our source of motivation and what are we unwilling to unmask that will inform of us of our weakness and mortality?

A divergent question: What do we choose for our epitaph or obituary? Here lies Brad, one heckuva principal? Here lies Tom, a most prideful fellow? Here lies Sally, the most accomplished attorney? Here lies Barry, a magnificently wealthy man? Here lies Darlene, graduating with multiple degrees from Harvard, Stanford, Yale, you name it?

I know if I could rewind the clock, I would do some significant course corrections. Please do not judge this as false humility. I do not deny that I have put many of my gifts and talents to good use. But I recognize that I miscalculated the fallout from the struggle between pride and humility.

(I have not chosen to address here the many people who feel no pride. They feel without power. Are lost and broken or who have never experienced real love or who have lost it and can’t find it again. They feel as the door mat. Worth less than others. They are humbled by circumstance and may exist without hope, a terrible thing. Their humility is realized at times as humiliation. A true pit that can be expressed as despair. This awful place is as foreign to pride as humility is to narcissism. Perhaps we’ll get to that.)

Pride is a sin because it distracts us from the truth of our real value.

That’s worth considering, I think. We all understand value, at lease casually. Value is a relationship. Nothing has value in isolation from anything else. That should be evident. So, what is our real value? How do we know? Is it important to know?

This is a learned thing. We are not born with a sense of value but acquire it from our parents, other acquaintances, our experiences and so on. Oh, and we try all sorts of things to increase our value, especially if we believe we’ve had some deficit. Why does a person say, “Look at me. I’m somebody!” In other words, “for a few minutes, forget yourself but consider me and recognize my value.” Imagine that as bosses or parents or friends we kept clamoring for attention and approval. What’s going on here?

At the risk of offending some of you, I would argue that the nominees of both major parties in this recent election as well as the sitting president are some of the most narcissistic politicians in memory. Although Mrs. Clinton made the political error of calling out millions as deplorable, both Mr. Trump and Mr. Obama have similarly libeled whole groups of people while conceitedly calling attention to their own prowess. No wonder massive groups of people across the entire spectrum are so angry!!

Humility is a recognition that the universe in a very real sense of everyday living does not revolve around me. It is the recognition that our battles and challenges, our successes and celebrations, are played out everywhere around us and it is healthy to reign in our enthusiasms while seeking the celebrations and joys for others. Do I engage a project or cause for some perceived greater good but remain detached from the heartfelt lives lived right around me?

Will my epitaph or obituary include words like Loving? Caring? Thoughtful? Compassionate? Kind? Are these good things? Even well-intentioned pride can detract from our ability to grow in these areas.

One of my friends named Mike (I have more than one, thankfully!) is the owner of a business that employs a fairly substantial number of people. He is under a lot of pressure as are many of those that work for him, nearly all of whom labor with their hands and backs for long periods of time outdoors. Their individual livelihoods depend upon diligence and perseverance. Sloths don’t survive. The other night, he was describing how hard it was for new guys to start work in such demanding conditions. As the owner, he doesn’t usually have to micromanage but wants to rely on his experienced guys to teach the new ones. Unfortunately, he witnessed some poor new guy really struggling and wasn’t getting the help he need. So, Mike got down in the dirt to show him. Mike related at the end of the day how this fellow was beaming that he had made it through his first day and was ready for Day 2. Mike’s simple humility resulted in this man’s elevation in value and will hopefully model how this new fellow can pay attention to others as he grows. For the record, I have experienced Mike as one of the most generous and thoughtful guys I know. It’s not hard.

Well, if you’ve come this far, you may be thinking he’s making a big deal out of something I don’t really see as operative in my life. I’m basically a decent person who cares for others. I’m not battling any real demons or struggling with deep anxieties. I’m certainly not lording it over others. Does the universe really revolve around the conflict between pride and humility? Well, actually it does. I’m just not that good at laying it out.

The real power of the struggle probably doesn’t become clear until we look at the nature of good and evil and their respective sources.

In the meantime, I propose that we spend some useful time exploring not the grand questions of good and evil but how pride and humility are expressed in our own lives and what we can learn from that expression.

Next: I’ll probably share the piece I wrote to my group that kicked all of this off, which has to do with the “how” of dealing with the greater issues. We’ll see.

Lord, thank you for helping us to understand the nature of our value. Of how to apply that sense of value to our lives and to the lives of those around us. Help us not to dismiss words or concepts that might appear foreign to the modern eye but to gain wisdom from timeless truths. Help us to clarify what is truly important and to build our capacity to live lives within those principles. Amen.