"Blessed are the merciful" in a courtroom?

Kurt Vonnegut just died. I really liked a few of his novels, like Slaughterhouse Five and Hocus Pocus. Here's a quote of his that bears repeating:

For some reason, the most vocal Christians among us never mention the Beatitudes. But, often with tears in their eyes, they demand that the Ten Commandments be posted in public buildings. And of course that’s Moses, not Jesus. I haven’t heard one of them demand that the Sermon on the Mount, the Beatitudes, be posted anywhere. "Blessed are the merciful" in a courtroom? "Blessed are the peacemakers" in the Pentagon? Give me a break!

the fiery spirit

There are animals totally devoid of aggression which keep together for life as firmly united flocks. One would think that such animals would be predestined to develop permanent friendships and brotherly unions of individuals, and yet these characteristics are never found among such peaceable herd creatures; their association is always entirely anonymous. A personal bond, an individual friendship, is found only in animals with highly developed intra-specific aggression; in fact, this bond is firmer, the more aggressive the particular animal and species is... Proverbially the most aggressive of all mammals, Dante's bestia senza pace, the wolf, is [also] the most faithful of friends. (Lorenz, On Aggression)

An unexpected and very interesting observation. I recalled this passage after a conversation with Heather yesterday, about what I most valued in her and in our relationship. Pre-marital musings had unsettled us a bit. Raised questions about our expectations of each other, stirring up the stereotypical spousal expectations, those things usually valued in a marital partner—did we measure up? But after some reflection, I came back with the two things I value most, two things that I think are bound up together: passion and faith.

Passion appears in many ways, in anger and also in the incredible strength of some relationships. It appeared in Jesus' fiery spirit. The spirit of risk and utter abandon. And this is also the nature of faith, the abandonment of self for the sake of the absolute Good, for the sake of Love. Passionate faith is the way God's Love enters.

What I value most in myself and in a partner, in Heather specifically, is this fiery spirit of abandon that empties us, so that Love may enter. No spousal attribute or skill is nearly as important. Skills can be learned. But the inner fire...


Also, in all the recent talk of marriage and domesticity I've been wondering about how these tend to "settle down" a person (namely me). I don't want to be domesticated. It may help to emphasize passion and faith in our relationship, right from the start. And I'm glad we're going out on the road soon after our marriage; I think it sets the right tone for our life together.

"he looked around at them with anger"

Here's some scenes of the fiery Jesus I mentioned in the last entry:

Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. And they watched him, to see whether he would heal him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. He said to the man who had the withered hand, "Come here." And he said to them, "Is it lawful on the sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?" But they were silent.

And he looked around at them with anger, grieved at their hardness of heart, and said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." He stretched it out, and his hand was restored.

The Pharisees went out, and immediately held counsel with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him. (Mk 3.1-6)



"Woe to you that are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you that are full now, for you shall hunger. Woe to you that laugh now, for you shall mourn and weep. Woe to you, when all men speak well of you, for so their fathers did to the false prophets...

"Blessed are you when men hate you, and when they exclude you and revile you, and cast out your name as evil, on account of the Son of man! Rejoice in that day, and leap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven; for so their fathers did to the prophets." (Lk 6.22-26)



"I came to cast fire upon the earth; and would that it were already kindled! I have a baptism to be baptized with; and how I am constrained until it is accomplished!

"Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division; for henceforth in one house there will be five divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against her mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law." (Lk 12.49-53)



On the following day, when they came from Bethany, he was hungry. And seeing in the distance a fig tree in leaf, he went to see if he could find anything on it. When he came to it, he found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs. And he said to it, "May no one ever eat fruit from you again." And his disciples heard it.

And they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who sold and those who bought in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold pigeons; and he would not allow any one to carry anything through the temple. And he taught, and said to them, "Is it not written, `My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations'? But you have made it a den of robbers."

And the chief priests and the scribes heard it and sought a way to destroy him; for they feared him, because all the multitude was astonished at his teaching. (Mk 11.12-18)

grrrrr

After yesterday's lofty thoughts, I remembered the little detail that our instinctual aggressiveness remains, even if we reach the spiritual place in which we are no longer struggling to survive. Jesus displayed a temper a number of times, as I recall...

Lorenz wrote about animals finding ways to divert their aggressiveness away from their family or others in their social group. Perhaps our instinctual aggressiveness can also be diverted, away from people (who we love and don't want to hurt) and towards those things that threaten them. Like Jesus denouncing untruths or certain harmful (yet socially accepted) practices. Or his casting out of demons, aggressively attacking something in a person without attacking the person.

So that even when it is not being used for survival, our natural aggressiveness becomes an important good.

"If we have been united with him in a death like his..."

If we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.

[And] we know that Christ being raised from the dead will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. (Rom 6.5,9)

These lines appeared in the Easter vigil readings. And they brought to mind thoughts I've had on the question of aggression raised yesterday. Why would Jesus come preaching "turn the other cheek," if our natural aggression is actually beneficial to our survival and physical well-being?

I do accept that natural, instinctual aggression does help a species survive. It helps in the continuation of life on earth. Which is a fine raison d'être for animals and insects. But for human beings? With our consciousness of the inevitability of death (of ourselves, and also our family lines and, eventually, even every human memory of our existence) doesn't "survival" become a rather futile-feeling pursuit? Is this all there is to our lives?

Those words of Paul I quoted suggest that it is (or can be) different for us human beings. And in Jesus' living and his dying—and in his continued, unending life—we see this difference demonstrated quite clearly. Death had "no dominion over him."

A life governed by the struggle for survival is a life driven by the fear of death. This is the natural life. But Jesus called us to something much more. The life that is not threatened by death, the spiritual life that does not end, the life which is not meant for the constant struggling for survival but which is created to seek and to find union with God. With the Source of all life. With Love himself.

Jesus' words and actions showed us what that life, that union with God, looks like. And the more we understand the reality and complexity of the natural life (including its instinctual aggressiveness), as well as its almost complete universality among human beings, the more deeply we can appreciate the contrast of Jesus' life.

His is the life we are offered—"if we have been united with him in a death like his..."

on aggression

Yesterday I was reading Konrad Lorenz's book, On Aggression, a study of aggression among members of the same species. A good meditation on the day we remember Jesus' crucifixion at the hands of the mob.

Interestingly, the book presents a strong case for the naturalness and even the positive value of aggression. How aggressive behavior in animals drives them apart, preventing overcrowding and exhaustion of local resources, thus improving chances for survival. And how aggressive "challenges" are used to establish hierarchy in a social group, which helps all members find their roles and know who to follow as the leader of the group. This makes sense to me.

Lorenz also explored how strong cultural customs (rituals and taboos) serve to control aggression within a social group. So these are considered very important, even sacred. When these are ignored or flouted, that behavior is seen as an act of aggression in itself.

This helps us understand the response when Jesus entered the scene and started reinterpreting Jewish laws and challenging social customs. He was seen as a threat. And attacked aggressively, for the (supposed) good of the society:

"If we let him go on thus, every one will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place and our nation."

But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, "You know nothing at all; you do not understand that it is expedient for you that one man should die for the people, and that the whole nation should not perish." (Jn 11.48-50)

And it does seem quite reasonable to perceive Jesus' influence and teaching as a threat to the order of society, at least the order of any natural (hierarchical, survival-based) society.

So if such aggression is natural, and even helpful for survival, why would Jesus come challenging it, preaching another way? Why "love your enemy," "turn the other cheek"?

More tomorrow...

psalm 22

All who see me mock at me,
they make mouths at me, they wag their heads;
"He committed his cause to the Lord; let him deliver him,
let him rescue him, for he delights in him!"



Salvador Dali
Christ of St. John of the Cross (1951)

"a land of hard work"

One thing that intimidates me a bit in our move to the farm is how much the country seems "a land of hard work." Lots of physical labor of course, which I don't mind. But also the image of the farmer rising early and toiling long hours, and the respectability of that, honoring the one who can bear the heavy load. The sense of pride in working to exhaustion. Of course this is not found only in the country, but it's clearly here also.

It reminded me of something I wrote about "hard work" a year ago, commenting on "my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." That and the entries that followed focused on a different setting for work (activism), but I think the point is just as important here. The emphasis on hard work does direct our attention to ourselves, to our own capabilities. Encourages trust in the power of human will and effort. Certainly this can result in many impressive (and valuable) accomplishments—but at what spiritual cost?

I don't find much in Jesus' life and teaching that honors hard work. Jesus honors faith. He emphasizes and demonstrates complete dependence on God's will and God's power. And this clearly directs attention, not to us, but to God. Where our attention should always be directed.

This is what I need to focus on here, as I have been all along. I don't need to try to impress people by my hard work or try to build the retreat ministry quickly through long and intense efforts. God has prepared me already for what he wants me to bring here. And God has offered this place and vision to us as a gift, not as a product of our own minds and hands, but as an act of overwhelming generosity.

That's what I continue to hope for.

this day's bread

We've arrived at Plow Creek farm and are all settled in. Heather is staying in the guest room of a couple here (and we both eat meals with them), and I will move in with her once we're married. A warm welcome. And good to see friends here again.

This morning I helped in the small bakery operation they have. We made thirty loaves of bread and fifteen dozen rolls (an excellent multi-grain recipe from the Hutterites), enjoying the good smells and the warmth of the ovens on a cold day. I'm very glad to be able to have bread like this, and to serve it to our retreat guests. And I enjoy the bakery work.

The only drawback is that bread like this—top quality organic ingredients and made in small batches—can usually only be afforded by fairly wealthy customers. The work is still good, and the results very satisfying. But I'd rather be baking for the poor. I guess I will sometimes, when we make bread for our retreat guests.