When You Pray

 Ask for a light heart

When trees bend and crack in the wind
Do they demand of it to stop?

Does the grass
In summer heat and drought
Call upon the rain?

Do rocks
Ceaselessly still
Predict the next great quake?

Therefore

When you pray

Ask for a light heart

Indeed, the world burns
While politicians squabble

Nations scratch at dust
And leaders build spaceships

They say our planet is dying

Certainly
There is work to be done
But do it with a light heart

Kingdoms have risen
Kingdoms have fallen

Nations have been built on slaves

We have seen this wolf before
Wearing different brands of sheepskin

So when you pray

To God

To Allah

To Yourself

Ask for a light heart

Caped Crusaders

It is no great thing to see the evil of others.  For any fool knows men can be wicked.  A feat of bravery is to see the shadow living comfortably on our own soul.  An act of courage is to confront it, and a hero conquers it.  

She told me ten years ago the most painful part wasn't any of the abuse

It was the lack of remorse on his face when she told him

I made up my mind right then and there I was gonna save her

A hero

Ten years later we're sitting on the couch

It's late

She's telling me slowly 

Cautiously

About how I smiled at her and the caustic ghost of his face flashed across my features

I knew there was trauma.  I didn't know it was me.

She tells me she's still terrified of the outcome

What happens after I tell you all this?

You could take it and go

She doesn't say it, but we both know it: her fear is based on actual behavior that I flaunted in her face while she tried to tell me she was drowning.

I was too busy being the hero

If we were meant to bear the weight of another's pain on superhuman strength alone we'd all be  bodybuilders from day one

I couldn't even start to see her until I started seeing my starving, depraved self.

"Why are you torturing me?!?"

The body keeps score

I flamed out on trying to save the world and settled in to loving myself

That's when I started to see her

I didn't need a quick shot of connection to get me through a day of handshakes and fake smiles anymore

I was just there.  Around.

She was just there.  Forgotten

By the man who promised her the stars

And as we sat on the couch and she bared her darkest secrets my heart broke

I remembered ten years ago when she told me the most painful part of pain was lack of acknowledgement

And in a blazing moment of clarity ten years were visible in ten seconds

Like it was all connected by a thread that I held on either end

Unwittingly--because that is the only way it is possible--I took up the mantle of her abuser

I wore it thinking it was something else: a crown or a robe or a tailored suit

I became the perpetrator

I compounded the abuse

I wronged her

Deeply

It was the only way my young, arrogant self was able to feel true remorse ten years later and wear it on my face for her in place of someone who should've but didn't.

The only time you're a hero is when you're not trying to be one, and God loves us too much to let us get away with just being really good actors

I felt righteous.  I lived righteous.  I loved righteous.  I wore righteous all over myself like if I didn't I would crumple up and die

And then the curtain fell.  There was no applause.  No audience at all.  

Just her.  On our couch.  Wondering if she could actually be vulnerable this time.

Sidewalk Temples

 I went to the temple to find God

And was only allowed to leave with myself

A miserable companion, thought I

So I gave all I had to the poor

Leaving nothing for myself 

And hoping God would notice

The irony was completely lost on me

I would rather

Tear flesh and bone

Squeeze breath from my lungs

Force my way through the eye of a needle

Than quietly look in a mirror

For if they were poor...I was rich

And righteousness could be bought

Finally I gained the courage to look upon myself:

"Oh, God, please!  

Spare a nickel for this starving, worthless soul!

I am all ash and dust!

Worthless!

Pitiful!

Shameful!

Wretched, wretched me!

Please, sir, spare a coin for this lost sheep!

Have some mercy you fucking asshole!!"

I am the poor.

With that liberating realization the next thought struck like a horn cutting through fog and the hair stood up even on the tips of my fingers:

"Love thy neighbor as thyself"

I had anxiously sought to lift up the poor

Hoping their shadow would hide my nakedness

But we are all poor

We are all naked

And we have all we need

So I continue to lift up the poor

Starting with the fellow in the mirror

Because I went to the temple looking for God

And found Him sitting outside on the sidewalk

Eating with my brother and my sister:

The poor.

Frail Phoenix

I have followed frail phoenixes; hoping for a glimpse of their face

I watched as they fell, awaited their triumphant rise,

And wondered if suspended specks of floating ash are all I'm gonna get

I sought Thor's hammer

I searched for the hidden temple

I called on the mystery

And demanded polarity

I thought the silence was disapproval

I wailed and let blood flow from open sores

Thinking it would be lapped up in a grateful frenzy

I was but a gruesome spectacle

Oh, frail phoenix

A grandiose contraption, to be sure

"You will know them by their fruit"

He said

(If at all possible, please take this cup)

So now I follow the fruit

Though it drops from a tree I will probably never find

Does the branch seek the trunk?

Should the roots look for the bark?

Is the hand best used by searching for its arm?

Frail Phoenix

Rather

Enjoy the succulence

Be enriched by its flavor

There you will be

"Where two or more are gathered

There I am also"

Come and Live

God isn't Out There

"The sanctuary was empty and the Holy of Holies untenanted."
- Cornelius Tacitus, Book Five of 'The Histories'

--

In 63 BC, General Gnaeus Pompeius(or 'Pompey the Great') laid siege to Jerusalem.  As it is with politics and war, the reasons for the siege are long and complicated.  According to the historian Cornelius Tacitus(AD 55 - 117), victory in said siege eventually gave General Gnaeus access to the holy of holies in the Jewish temple.  It is this access to the temple that Tacitus says gave rise to the "common impression that it contained no representation of the deity--the sanctuary was empty and the Holy of Holies untenanted"(Book Five, Section 9 of 'The Histories').  

If you are a practicing Christian or of Jewish decent and know your Old Testament, you probably know that access to the Holy of Holies was reserved only for the high priest on the Day of Atonement--and only after rigorous sacrificial rituals had been performed to preserve the priest's life.  The practice of going into the Holy of Holies was considered so dangerous that Jewish tradition tells of the high priest wearing a rope around his waist or foot so that his body could be dragged out if God struck him dead.  How would one know the priest had died?  The solid gold bells attached to his ceremonial garments would stop ringing(Exodus 28:35).

So this gives rise to a massive question: why didn't General Gnaeus die?  

Perhaps the immediate argument will be that the ark of the covenant wasn't present in the Holy of Holies at the time.  The ark is pretty notorious for striking people dead when they touch it, after all.  But the thing that is supposed to have been so lethal in the holy of holies isn't the ark--it's God's actual presence.  

To understand the way the Hebrew people thought about God's presence, think about the sun.  The sun itself is not evil.  It's actually pretty great: By the sun we receive many necessary things that sustain our existence: light, warmth, vitamin D, gravitational pull, etc.  But all of these things are conditional on our orientation to it.  If we get too close to the sun, its sheer power will overwhelm and kill us by burning us up.  The opposite will happen if we get too far: we will freeze to death.  

The holy of holies is said to be where God resided.  Before the temple, the Hebrew people lived a nomadic life and their temple was in a special tent called the 'tabernacle'.  The Hebrew word for tabernacle is 'Mish-kan' and means "Dwelling Place".  It was understood by the Hebrew people that the tabernacle was where God lived.  Specifically, God's presence was 'thickest' in the holy of holies.

So General Gnaeus does the equivalent of walking into the center of the sun and doesn't die.  

Was Gnaeus superhuman?

Was the temple broken?

Was God...missing?

Understand this: it wasn't just Hebrew folklore and culture that said people would die from being in God's presence.  There are multiple accounts in the Old testament of people both dying in God's presence(Leviticus 10) and many more people being terrified of dying when they enter God's presence(Judges 13:22, Exodus 20:19, among others).  Lastly, God Himself says no man can see Him and live(Exodus 33:20).

So what happened?  

Let's connect this story of General Gnaeus with one you might be more familiar with: the crucifixion.  

Jesus is prophesied in the Old testament and claims on many occasions to be God in human flesh.  For many complex religious and political reasons the Hebrew leaders of Jesus' day decided to kill him.  They managed to convince the local Roman authorities that this needed to happen, and Jesus was crucified: a common Roman execution method.

As Jesus dies, he utters the words, 'it is finished'.  At that moment, the book of Matthew states that the curtain separating the holy of holies from the rest of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom(27:51).  On its own this is an impressive feat, as the temple curtain was pretty beefy.  Never mind the fact that it did this spontaneously.

Because the ark of the covenant had already been M.I.A. for at least a few hundred years there was nothing behind the curtain.  Jesus dies, comes back to life three days later, and after a short while for all intents and purposes flies off into space(Acts 1:9).

In evangelical Christianity the tearing of the curtain is understood both symbolically and literally as God's presence being 'unlocked': i.e. there was a time when God's presence was only accessible through detailed ritual and sacrifice.  Now, thanks to Jesus dying on the cross and rising again, God's presence is no longer kept from us and we have what is essentially an all access pass.  

This is all fine and well.  In fact, it would have been revolutionary at the time of the early church.  

But what about General Gnaeus?  Why did he get a free pass when God's own priests didn't?  And where did God go when he left the temple on the day of Jesus' death?  And if Jesus is God incarnate, where did He go?

That's the question, isn't it?  

Where is God?  

Old stories talk about miracles; men and women performing supernatural acts in the name of a God who identifies with the oppressed and abused.  But lately it appears that God has been silent.  For several thousand years humanity has stumbled its way through war and famine and pain--seemingly unattended.  Where is the God who rescued slaves from Egypt?  Where is the one who hates all manner of evil and injustice(Proverbs 6:16-19).  The world is experiencing a global pandemic.  Mental illness is at an all time high.  The stability of first world nations is crumbling.  Not to mention all the pre-existing horrible realities that humans live in every day such as human trafficking, child armies, food shortages, and much more.    

A little later on in Tacitus' account, he writes about events that took place at the same temple Gnaeus waltzed into in Jerusalem over 100 years later(70 years after the events of the crucifixion) during yet another Roman siege of Jerusalem:

"In the sky appeared a vision of armies in conflict, of glittering armor. A sudden lightning flash from the clouds lit up the Temple. The doors of the holy place abruptly opened, a superhuman voice was heard to declare that the gods were leaving it, and in the same instant came the rushing tumult of their departure."- (Book 5, Section 13 'The Histories')  

It seems an awful lot like God uses the temple mostly to demonstrate his absence from it...but why?

Here's a theory: A person who believes something brings all manner of meaning into their life will defend that something to their death.  Muslims do it.  Christians do it.  Atheists do it.  

You do it.

I do it.

Humans do it.

When we look for God somewhere 'out there' we attach a deep, powerful sense of meaning to things made of bone and blood and dirt and stone.

I have good news for you: God is missing.  

He's not in a secret room, waiting for the VIP's to grovel.  He's not walking around somewhere giving you a 1 in 8 billion chance to bump into him at the grocery store.  He's not chillin' with martians.  

In the opening verses of the bible, we are told that God made man and woman in his own image(Genesis 1:27).  

God's not at the temple because You are the temple.  

You are God in human flesh.  So is your annoying neighbor.  And your spouse.  And your kids.  And your parents.  And ex-president Donald Trump.  And the people who love him.  And the people who hate him.  And all the people who don't care.  And all the people on facebook who won't shut up about whatever.  And everybody else.

So what does this mean?

What do we do with this information?

  

What would a God who is "Compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, overflowing with loyal love and faithfulness"(exodus 34:6) do?      

--

"Sometimes I would like to ask God why He allows poverty, suffering, and injustice when He could do something about it.  But I'm afraid He would ask me the same question."

- Brandon Hatmaker

The Scales

Like Lewis's dragon I showed you my scales

I hung my head while my leathery wings drooped

You were solemn

and warm

and silent

"I see now my sins" I said, and I meant it

Oh, but what I did not see!

I was like a peacock displaying its feathers

"Look upon my wretchedness, oh Lord!"

I was flaunting in a different language

When you called for my claws I tore at my shell with a fervor

The scales fell like rain with my blood and sweat

"I give thee myself!" I cried

When at last I lay, trembling, in a pile and puddle of myself

My eyes were closed and I thought I might dream

A smile caressed my lips

"Thank you" I said

When you did not reply I opened my eyes

What horror!

Though I was ripped and bleeding

Though I lay in a massacre of myself

My scales were unchanged!

As was your countenance

"Save me!" I screamed, "I am spent yet unchanged!"

In my panic I began tearing anew at my flesh

Scars and scabs were reopened

I scraped until I reached bone and lost consciousness

When I awoke the scales remained

Now I lay motionless

The weight of the scales had increased so I could not move

My wings were thick blankets which clung to the pile of scale and blood and bone beneath me

Still you were silent

Your gaze did not waver from mine

"The weight is awful" I said presently

"I feel it" you said 

"Do you bear it as well?" I asked, "I see no scales on you"

"I wear no scales," said he

I wanted to know what you meant.  I longed to understand how you felt the awful, pressing, oppressive scales while wearing no such garment.  

But I was tired.

"Can you show me?" Was all I could muster

When first I came to you I thought I had known my evils

Though they were scales they had glinted in the light

"The scales are armor" you said as you began ripping and tearing, "They are evil, but only because they pretend to protect you.  

"They have whispered in your ear about their necessity.  Not only to shelter you, but also to present to me as an offering."

Here you paused, trembling with a rage.  

"I need no offering." You said, "I need nothing of you--Not even yourself!  What I singularly desire is to see the scales removed; to reveal the pussing, rotting flesh beneath!  I wish to show you the lies you have spun for yourself.  Not so you can see them as lies, but so you can see the true disease beneath!  Only then can your wounds be treated."

He began again to rip great chunks of flesh and scale from my frame.  And truly, to my absolute terror, what laid beneath was not soft, healthy skin.

It was wet.

It was green.

It was yellow.

It was deep red.

It moved and squirmed. 

It was covered in mouths that moved incessantly, all with a wailing, screeching howl

"What is it?" I asked over the noise.

"It is the evil beneath evil," You said, "It hides under catechisms and baptisms.  It lays in wait beneath yamakas and altars.  It sets traps below the teachings of buddah and the threads of prayer mats.  It lives behind the wailing wall.  It grows on the minds of fathers who call their children ungrateful and in the hearts of mothers who think themselves neglected.  It is in the eye of every wounded man and every tortured woman.  It seeks the scales like a salve: a temporary covering to attempt to heal the wound.  But all it does is provide darkness for the infection to fester."

"But what is it?" I asked.

"It is pain." said he.  "Pain that has not been given the medicine of love"

"None have loved me." I agreed.  The infection writhed vigorously.

"Many have loved you." he said quickly--almost angrily--watching the infection closely. "Or many have tried.  But it was too long after the pain was given to you.  The armor had grown thick and had already learned to speak.  Its whispers thought to protect your wound by covering it eternally--they only allowed it to take root.  Over time your scales not only shut out the love of others, they also heeded the cries of the pain beneath.  Not as pain and lies, but as truth.  And so your armor that grew to defend you became your traitor.  The scales would have you spurn your children, abuse your lover, and scoff at heroes.  Not because they cannot love, but because they believe pain and lies to be that which I am."

At the utterance of these last words, his voice rattled and shook.  The ground beneath his feet rumbled and shifted.  I looked, and saw the infection writhe and shrivel and shrink and flake away like dead skin.  The pain was greater than any I had inflicted on myself, yet wholly different. 

When it was done, I saw what lay beneath to be smooth, whole skin.  My black, jagged scales had been replaced with polished, shimmering golden armor that could easily and painlessly be lifted to reveal the flesh beneath.  Even my wings were restored - this time with feathers of many colors.

"Thank you," I said.

You smiled.  

You were solemn.

And warm.

And silent.

Jesus, Animal Sacrifice, and the Cognitive Dissonance of the Old Testament

Jesus and God aren't the same people.  

At least it really seems that way when you read the old testament.  I mean, it really seems that way.  It's hard to imagine that the same God who gives intricate detail on how to slaughter livestock en masse for mostly just the purpose of setting their mutilated carcasses on fire because 'it is a pleasing aroma' is the same God that encourages people to be kind to one another.

Did you know the book of Leviticus is mostly full of instructions on how to harvest and clean the fatty tissue from organs in cows and goats and other animals?  Did you know the book of Leviticus also has extensive lists of what kind of animals are ok and not ok to eat?

Did you also know Peter(one of Jesus' disciples) has a vision in the new testament of a large sheet filled with all kinds of animals being lowered down to him?  In the vision Peter hears a voice that commands him to kill and eat.  But Peter knows better: Peter refuses to kill or eat the animals because in the book of Leviticus there are rules against eating these kinds of animals.  Rules set by God.  They're also pretty serious rules: if you eat the wrong animal you're 'unclean' for twenty-four hours and even then you still have to kill another kind of animal or burn a certain kind of grain to become 'clean' again.

But then Peter hears the voice say this: "Do not call anything impure that God has made clean."(Acts 10:15, NIV)

Wait, wait, wait: God can just do that?  So you're telling me God had an entire nation of people go through complex, life-threatening rituals for hundreds of years when he could have just changed the system and vetoed things being 'unclean'?  

This exchange between Peter and God happened three times in a row.  So it's not like Peter misheard God the first time or God misspoke.  Shortly after having this vision, Peter has an opportunity to speak to a large gathering of people about Jesus.  This is what he says: "I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right".(Acts 10:34b-35 NIV)

Remember, Peter is talking about the same God who--only a few hundred years earlier--laid out explicit instructions on how to handle the entrails of a cow so that God didn't strike you dead by accident.  

What's going on here?  Did God change his mind by the time Jesus came around?  Is the bible riddled with cognitive dissonance?  Were the ancient Hebrew people wasting their time sacrificing livestock in the desert for hundreds of years?

The answer is yes.  And no.  And...who knows.

Before I explain I want to make sure we're clear on something: nobody really knows anything.  Especially about God and anything that happened before we were born.  And when you were born: did you start acquiring knowledge that would help you understand the detailed history of an ancient civilization right away?  No.  You don't remember the day you were born.  Most of us don't remember at least our first year.  So when we talk about God and the bible and history we're not doing anything much more sophisticated than playing make believe with action figures.  The sources we have for our knowledge of God and the bible and history are some copies of books that people wrote about things that happened after the fact and deteriorated objects we dug out of the ground.  Oh, and verbal tradition.  Ever play a game of telephone?  

I don't say any of this to say that we shouldn't try and learn more about God, or the bible, or history, or anything.  All I'm saying is that no matter how sure anybody seems it's all actually quite mysterious and mystical and magical.  But of course it is: We wouldn't be moved to worship something that was normal and explainable and predictable.  Nobody worships math equations.

Anyway.

In Leviticus chapter six God lays out some rules for what the priests of Israel may and may not eat from the sacrifices that are made in the temple.  When it comes to meat from the sin offering, God says that the priest who oversees the ritual sacrifice may eat the meat if it is cooked in a clay or bronze pot...on a condition.  The clay pot must be shattered after cooking the sin offering.  If a bronze pot is used, it must be "scoured and rinsed with water".  

Earlier on in Leviticus God gives detailed instructions on sacrifices and rituals that must be performed if someone has committed a wrong against a neighbor or against God without realizing it.  Once all the ritual instructions have been completed the section ends by saying, 'They will be forgiven'(Leviticus 4:26, 31, 35).  

In Leviticus 16 God gives instructions for something called a 'scapegoat'(yes, this is where the term comes from).  A priest is to lay his hands on the head of a goat, confess 'all the wickedness and rebellion of the Israelites' and send the goat off into the wilderness to never be seen again.

At the end of every set of instructions for a burnt offering we are told 'it is a pleasing aroma to the Lord'.  

Are you getting the imagery? The clay pot that held and cooked the meat representing someone's wrongdoing will be shattered into pieces.  If it was a bronze pot, it will be thoroughly cleaned.  One might say it should be made spotless.  

A person who has committed a sin will be forgiven.

The weight and guilt of a nation's wrongs are symbolically placed on the head of a goat and lost in the wilderness. 

God will be satisfied by what you bring to Him.

This imagery is all quite final, don't you think?  

There's no gray area.  

No room for questions like, "Has God forgiven me yet?" or, "Am I good enough, yet?" or one of my favorites: "Does anybody love me?"  

A certain phrase comes to mind.

"It is finished".

In case you are unfamiliar, this is what Jesus says as he draws his last breath on the cross.  You know; the place where he dies for all the sins of mankind.  

Jesus doesn't say, "Hopefully now you'll all be acceptable to God".  He doesn't mutter, "You guys better appreciate this or it doesn't count".  He doesn't raise his eyebrows expectantly at his friends and family, waiting for them to thank him.  

"It is finished." 

Not just the wrongs you have committed.  But also the wrongs that have been committed against you.  You don't have to carry them around anymore.  The person who wronged you may never apologize, but that's for God to sort out.  

You.

You're free.