an other-than-honorable veteran

Sam was just here asking questions so he can tell my Navy AWOL story as a speech in his English class. It was interesting to try to boil it down to a 5-minute presentation, and make it understandable for high school students. The message, I think, is that the courage of taking a stand has to include the courage to take the consequences.

I also thought of this story this week because of Veterans' Day. I guess I'm a veteran, though I don't deserve any honor (or medical benefits) for it. Here's the story I wrote about my leaving the Navy, "A conscientious objection":

I was walking alone along the road outside a monastery in England, thinking about where I was. AWOL in a foreign country. I'd gone on a two-week leave several months ago, but instead of driving back and reporting for duty on the aircraft carrier I had boarded a plane. It felt like the only thing I could do. And I didn't think I deserved to be punished for it, so I'd fled.

These weeks of walking the Scottish moors and visiting monasteries to rest and pray had soothed some of the turmoil inside me. But still I didn't know where I was going. The initial gut-wrenching fear had eventually settled into the thrill of a new adventure, but it was now threatening to sink into dread. What would happen if I stopped running? Was my life ruined? Turned inward, I didn't notice the trees around me or the ancient stonework of the monastery. Was this all a terrible mistake?

That was when I first felt it. Deep inside, down in a dark part of myself where I never looked, it felt like something was moving. Like the stirring of a hibernating animal, something large. The slow uncoiling of a hidden predator. I couldn't see anything clearly, but it felt real enough to inspire awe at the power of the thing. It was enough to frighten me, yet the deep sensation was not fear. I remember thinking: Not yet. But it was coming. And it excited me.

continued...

technology and the collective

Nate and Angela just visited and stayed with us last night, on their way home to St. Louis. The last time we saw them was over two years ago when we stayed with them in DC, on our walk from Boston to Florida. Now they have a son, John Paul (who was in a cute little monkey suit the whole time). Good to see them again.

We talked about a lot of things, but I wanted to remember a thought from one conversation, about the negative effects of technology. I agreed that our mechanized and technologically-driven society tends to dehumanize us and detach us from the natural way of life God created us for. And much of our technological equipment even seems to push us further from each other and from God. But I've heard many people blame this on technology itself, as if it is somehow inherently evil, and I don't agree with that. I think the problem is deeper.

I've written much about the idolatry of the social collective, how we organize and institutionalize gathered human beings to form "We, the People," a power much greater than any one person, a terrible substitute for the Body of Christ. I think our technology, as it has developed, has become a clear reflection of the evils of the social collective. No advanced technology can develop apart from this organization of people, and it necessarily reflects the values of the group. Technological developments have to be funded and so are driven by money and the purposes of the group, because what serves them well is what sells. Technology doesn't drive itself, though it seems to (yes, I've read Ellul's book). And it doesn't drive people. People are driven by the power of the collective, driven to develop technology in a certain direction and driven to use it and serve it—or be cut off from the group, the source of life.

the mercy of crumbling bodies?

I've been looking at 1 Cor 12, in preparation for a discussion I'm supposed to lead Sunday. It's about the body of Christ. I really like the imagery of the Spirit giving gifts to each of us and inspiring and coordinating us to provide for each other. "To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good." And I think focusing on this has also helped me make some sense of the recent experiences here that have troubled me so much.

It's not too hard to see from Paul's descriptions of the body of Christ (or Jesus' descriptions of the kingdom of God) that our organizations and churches and communities are not it. And when our disillusionment with our organizations and leaders is worst, when they may even be collapsing around us, it becomes that much more apparent that this is not the one Body that is Christ in the world, that never dies. But is that as bad as it seems? It is so easy for us to substitute our little "bodies" (families, institutions, churches, communities) for the one community, the one Body, that we long for. We do it all the time (I've often thought it is our persisting idolatry). So it may be for our good that God brings down our organizations, disillusions us about the structures we build and the leaders we elect. To clearly show us the limitations and falseness of the "bodies" that we create for ourselves. I think it can help turn us away from dependence on these and stir a longing in us for the experience of the one Body of Christ. Helping us become better and truer members of it.

At least I hope that is the effect here. In any case it gives me the sense that there may be some important purpose and meaning in the events that have just seemed destructive and discouraging up to this point.

at table in the kingdom of God

Here's the readings I chose for tomorrow, All Saints Day (and a communion Sunday). I'm using the image of the gathering of the remnant to sit at table in the kingdom of God. And calling for repentance here as well.

In that day the Lord will extend his hand yet a second time
to recover the remnant which is left of his people,
from Assyria, from Egypt,
from Pathros, from Ethiopia,
from Elam, from Shinar, from Hamath,
and from the coastlands of the sea.

He will raise an ensign for the nations,
and will assemble the outcasts of Israel,
and gather the dispersed of Judah
from the four corners of the earth.

There will be a highway from Assyria
for the remnant which is left of his people,
as there was for Israel
when they came up from the land of Egypt.

Jesus went on his way through towns and villages, teaching, and journeying toward Jerusalem. And some one said to him, "Lord, will those who are saved be few?"

And he said to them, "Strive to enter by the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able."

"When once the householder has risen up and shut the door, you will begin to stand outside and to knock at the door, saying, 'Lord, open to us.' He will answer you, 'I do not know where you come from.'

"Then you will begin to say, 'We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.'

"But he will say, 'I tell you, I do not know where you come from; depart from me, all you workers of iniquity!' There you will weep and gnash your teeth, when you see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God and you yourselves thrust out.

"And men will come from east and west, and from north and south, and sit at table in the kingdom of God. And behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last."

(Is 11.11-12,16; Lk 13.22-30)

Here's Snoopy's "World War I Flying Ace" scenes from the Peanuts Halloween special. I watched it tonight for old times sake.

Heather might like to see him sneaking across the French countryside. He's quite the music lover, too.

an ineffective ritual

I've been struggling emotionally for several days now. Last week we heard that another family has decided to leave here (though I imagine it will be quite a while before they can actually move). I mentioned scapegoating a month ago; that's what I felt I was seeing here. But I wasn't sure whether it would end with them actually leaving the community.

And I don't think this will rid us of the community's transgressions or reconcile us. Maybe a good theme for worship next Sunday would be repentance.

I tried to do what I could to prevent this from happening, especially now, when we're struggling to find some common ground among all of us and come together to meet the urgent practical needs here. And I've been trying to get us all together to see what we can do to meet those needs. It's been a little frustrating because several families have been away recently (taking vacations, which is understandable after the long, busy farm season). But now I'm glad that it has been delayed. Because it's important to let the heavy discouragement of another departure fade a bit, before we try to move forward as a community again. I'm hoping to stir a spirit of unity and generosity; it would do us good to see people stepping up to help each other in a hard time. But I think the current spirit here needs some time to dissipate first.

questions raised by mother teresa

From a conversation over at Jesus Manifesto (referring to a book of Mother Teresa's letters that reveal her long spiritual dryness). Jason says:

The most fascinating thing to me (one that gives me courage) is that she was willing to give whatever He would take (assuming that, in fact, He did take away His felt presence for so many years). She eventually came to understand that she was experiencing the same spiritual state as the dying and destitute in the slums and could better empathize spiritually with their experience because of it, which I think she clearly did. Mother Teresa's experience of spiritual absence was obviously problematic and even disturbing, something she obviously deeply felt, especially after years of close felt union with Him. But why didn't God answer her prayers to take it away or to bring His felt presence back? And why did she appear to have such tremendous faith (her response in the pain) while admitting to a wasteland of spiritual feelings?

I replied:

Those are interesting insights, Jason (and also a bit confusing, I agree). It certainly isn't easy to interpret. And I should say that I don't mean to critique Mother Teresa's spiritual life at all, not knowing her personally, and having no access to her real experience and situation.

I only mean to address certain interpretations that might be drawn from her situation and letters. Like the implication that God wanted her (and perhaps us?) to experience the spiritual state of the people she served (an experience of spiritual abandonment by God?) so she could better empathize with them. That seems to make sense. But do we ever see this in Jesus' ministry? What I see is Jesus demonstrating a continual intimacy with his Father that he then freely offered to those he served, inviting them (and us) into his spiritual experience. Not the other way around.

Then there's the apparent presentation of God as asking continued service from her (us?) but withholding the joys of his presence. This seems to result in a much more selfless and heroic servant, who continues to give to God without getting much of anything back. But, again, is this the way Jesus ever presented his Father? What I see from Jesus is a God that gives us everything, with overwhelming generosity, demanding no payment from us. I don't see God trying to build servants that need little from him, but servants that are completely dependent on him, with little strength or heroism of their own ("so that no one might boast in the presence of God") who's great deeds point not to human capability but to the God to does great things through feeble human beings. Jesus' poverty and weakness exemplify this for me (and Paul also presents himself this way often).

These interpretations are easy to draw from Teresa's experience, and people might want to emulate them since Teresa is so highly respected. But I really think they point in the opposite direction from what Jesus showed us. They glorify human beings rather God.

I don't blame Teresa for this, since she didn't intend to reveal her confusing struggles. But I can see why people in the church institution might value servants that continue tirelessly in dedicated service no matter what their spiritual state...

someone watching over me

I got restless in church this morning, so slipped out before it was over and went for a walk. Beautiful fall weather. And the road just south of the farm is perfect for walking, fields and woods mingled, with no houses, only a couple barns along the mile and a half stretch. The road twists and rise and falls, with deer trails crossing it often. Huge old trees shade it in places.

And a couple big red-tailed hawks live along there; I see them often, circling far overhead. Last week one of the guys we met through our retreats for Emmaus Ministries was with us for a week-long personal retreat. I took a couple long walks with him and once we saw one of the hawks, perched high up in a tree close to the road. When we got near he launched and disappeared over the woods.

Today I didn't see them, but as I got back to the farm I heard them calling to each other again and again. An eerie sound. (Go here to hear it, and find more info about red-tailed hawks.)