Twenty years ago, I had the blessing to travel to Haiti as a part of a team that was negotiating a church partnership. It was just around the time of our presidential election, and shortly thereafter, theirs. In the aftermath of our election, we spent weeks examining ballots and all of us learning about “hanging chads” as some 500 ballots in one county held the country in suspense. I don’t remember all of the issues about counting and deadlines, but I have often lifted up the extraordinary power of a democracy that believes deeply enough in a peaceful transition of power that everyone abiding by the decision offer by a divided Supreme Court that stopped the process and awarded Bush the Presidency. I have shared that story because at the same time, Haiti was being torn apart following an election where President Aristide had received 91.7% of the vote but many declared the election questionable. That country erupted in violence and the whole government was thrown into what would be a much too familiar pattern of unrest. The stark contrast has always stuck with me.
I was stunned on the Feast of Epiphany — the occasion when the church celebrates the arrival of the Magi and the proclamation that Jesus’ birth is light for all the world — when suddenly our nation’s capital was thrown into violent unrest. I was stunned to see racist symbols, violence, and the demonization of others grow out of the disgruntled crowd. I still believe that the majority had gathered for a protest rally and not an insurrection. Still, the violent uprising was not entirely unexpected for those of us who had been following the news stories or the rhetoric leading up to the gathering in D.C., and yet at the same time it seemed unimaginable in a country whose values are so counter to these actions.
As I saw images of many of the violent insurrectionists, I saw symbols of Christianity overlaid with politics and rage… and I was deeply saddened. It kept causing me to wonder why it is so hard for Christ's followers to continue to hear his admonishment to: “Put away your sword,” … “Those who use the sword will die by the sword” (Matthew 26:52). It had me thinking about how in each of the Gospels one of the disciples pulled out his sword as the empires’ minions came to arrest what they saw as a political threat. “When those who were around Jesus saw what was coming, they asked, “Lord, should we strike with the sword?” Then one of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear. But Jesus said, “No more of this!” and he touched his ear and healed him” (Luke 22:49–51).
I wonder if Jesus anticipated this violent response to his arrest. Here was one of his followers who had been learning from Jesus about the power of God's love and grace who suddenly responded in a way that was antithetical to all of Jesus’ teachings. He must have had the sword with him all along… but had Jesus expected that these disciples had learned that it shouldn’t be used against another? In John’s Gospel we even hear this one with the sword named as Simon Peter, the rock upon whom Jesus would build the Church. It must have been a very sad moment when Jesus had to heal that ear and cry out “no more of this!” It must have felt like a teacher who suddenly has a sense that none of the class has understood the foundational lesson.
I heard the comments this week of R.P. Eddy, a former U.S. counterterrorism official and diplomat who now runs a private intelligence firm called Ergo, describe the “invisible obvious”. The idea is that there are things that sit right in front of us that we don't notice. "The reason that they are invisible to us ... gets to our biases." We can easily presume that those that look like us or outwardly hold some of our values should be okay, so we are surprised when they don’t act as we expect.
As we have seen repeatedly for months, among the masses of peaceful protestors crying for their voices to be heard, there have emerged those who would turn to violence and destruction. There is something about human nature that quickly labels those who are inciting violence as “them,” certainly not our team (whatever that may be). We’ve heard proclamations that have stirred outrage when in the midst of a White Supremacist demonstration in Charlotte there was the affirmation that “there are good people on both sides.” I have a hard time processing what a “good racist” might look like… but at some fundamental level, there is a proclamation that there are indeed good people on each side of every conflict, and sometimes those good people can end up engaged in very bad thoughts, words, and actions. This summer we watched the violence blamed on Black Lives Matter and Antifa, even as many of the investigations and arrests offered a much more complex view the ones who were responsible: White Supremacists, Antifa, local gangs, petty thieves, and that small minority of folks who seemed to think that destruction would serve their interests.
I remember so clearly when one of our members broke apart the word prejudice into those simple parts of pre-judging another and pointing out that this goes both ways, both choosing who should be alright as well as who should not. When the division gets deep, it should give us pause to examine how we are adding to the division.
From a spiritual perspective, I hear Jesus’ teaching to those disciples as he proclaims “no more” as also being a demand that they look within and examine the invisible obvious within our own hearts. This is the work of a confessional faith that is constantly demanding that we work to align our lives with the ways of a just and gracious God. Faithfulness is not self-serving or violent.
We are living in tense times as a nation. I am grieving that I have lost the ability to tell the story of a nation that trusts all the many faithful people involved in our complex process of elections enough to honor the elections – a nation that asks questions, recounts, even offers court challenges, and then that accepts the outcome.
I fear that what we saw on Epiphany was an illumination of the deep brokenness of a society. As your pastor, I have been profoundly aware that we have always been a congregation that strongly spans that political, theological, social spectrum, and that knows how to love and cherish those who think differently, vote differently, and live differently than ourselves. I have told the story far and wide of this little church called Peace that in this way manages to reflect the Kingdom. In this moment of time, I am desperately missing the buzz of coffee hour where the conversations may or may not touch on difference, but where we remember how we love and care about one another.
I have deep concerns about how we move forward with the love that is so desperately needed to heal our nation. How do we speak in ways that condemn violence in all its forms, that seeks to listen to, see, and honor the other as beloved of God? This could be hard work for us as we move forward, but we know how to do this. We know how to look at one another as beloved even as we stand in our differences. Even in this time when we are also held physically apart, remember who God calls us to be. Look within and seek out the invisible obvious to which each of us may need to attend as we choose Jesus’ way of transformative love. This is surely what God is calling us to in this moment. We begin a new year and a new chapter in our nation’s history, choose hope, and let us work together at being the body of Christ.
Shalom,