Meditation on Holy Saturday and Easter

The day after Jesus’ crucifixion must, in some ways, have been the hardest day of the disciples’ lives. For the rest of Jerusalem, the world was back to normal after the commotion of the three crucifixions; their fellow Jews would be getting up and going to the synagogue to observe the Sabbath, some of them probably with a sense of satisfaction that that Galilean gadfly was out of the way. For Jesus’ disciples, however, the reality and enormity of their loss was just beginning to sink in, and the world would never be back to normal; it would never be right again. Oh, they would adjust in time, learn to go on—but life would never be the same. Saturday was an empty day, all the color in life faded to a drab, dingy, depressing grey.

As such, I think Holy Saturday is a particularly important holiday for our culture, whether we pay any attention to it or not, because this is where many people in this country live. Why else is depression reaching epidemic status in America, especially among those of the younger generations? Why else could Elizabeth Wurtzel call her memoir Prozac Nation—and why else would that book have been a bestseller? Why else are our suicide rates so high? We live in a world that’s just getting by, most of the time, a world of people trying to cope with broken marriages, abusive parents, drug-addicted children, broken dreams, evaporated hopes, one failure after another . . .

I used to believe that most people sailed through life with no major hurts or disappointments, but three decades have taught me that’s an illusion; there are very few people like that, and most of those are fakes. Rather, there are a great many people in this world this morning who are standing exactly where Peter stood that Saturday: someone just pulled the rug out from under them, and they aren’t sure there’s a floor beneath their feet.

And it’s at this point, into this moment, that Easter comes. After the darkest nights in human history, in the dirty grey light of not-quite-morning, the Son of God, lying dead on a stone slab, got up; and as the Christian singer-songwriter Andrew Peterson put it, “the sound of the fiery blast of Death exploding shook the firmament.” The entire world, all of creation, lurched sideways, and the chains holding it down snapped; the grey of the day shattered in a million pieces as the Light of God blazed forth from that tomb. Hope conquered hopelessness; life overcame death; love broke the power of sin; God had the last word; and indeed, nothing would ever be the same again.

But if Easter is a light to crack the sky and blind the very stars, it’s still a light that far too many people don’t see. Perhaps they haven’t heard the message; perhaps they have only heard a distorted version of it that hides the light; but whatever the reason, they walk on in shadow. C. S. Lewis described Narnia under the reign of the White Witch as a land where it was always winter and never Christmas; for many in this world, it’s always Saturday and never Easter.

And so we see people carrying on as best they can, seeking out scraps of meaning to paper over their doubts, snaring bits of hope to give themselves a reason to keep going, snatching fragments of answers to ward off the questions that haunt and torment them; and from our cities and our towns we hear the wail of grief and the shriek of rage, the moan of pain and the cry of fear, and running through them all the sad whisper of loneliness, isolation, and alienation.

As human beings, at some deep level we need answers to the questions of why we are here and what our lives are worth, and we need the promise that someone loves us no matter what; and apart from God, this world can’t provide those. It can’t offer any resolution to the discordant voices of grief and pain, rage and fear. But over and above the discord, the thunder unleashed that first Easter continues to sound, the blast front of that explosion continues to roll over us; as Peterson says, “Throughout the wail and shudder, over the shriek and moan of man, the thunder has sounded and sung, and it is both the answer and the promise. It sings still, and you can hear what it says if you listen: love never dies.”

Early returns on Obama’s speech

On the practical question—did it work?—the answer appears to be: yes and no. Yes, as regards the Democratic primary; Hillary Clinton’s campaign is still trying to leverage the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright Jr. against Sen. Obama, trying to convince superdelegates to line up behind her and throw the nomination her way, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen—Bill Richardson, former Clinton cabinet official and current governor of New Mexico, just endorsed Sen. Obama. It’s a pretty powerful indicator, as PowerLine’s Scott Johnson notes, that the Democratic Party establishment really wants to put the Clintons behind them; Sen. Obama just needed to do enough to allay their concerns to get enough support to put him over the top. He’s been hurt by this whole situation, and he hasn’t really repaired all the damage, but at least he’s avoided derailment.

As regards the general election, though, that’s another matter; and based on the current poll average, where he remains slightly behind John McCain (and significantly behind in certain battleground states) and isn’t regaining ground—if anything, he’s losing a little—it doesn’t look like the speech helped him, at least to this point. Part of the problem is that his name remains tied to the Rev. Dr. Wright’s in many people’s minds; perhaps a bigger problem is that where he was trying to rise above the issue of race, to offer the American people a different bargain, that has collapsed; what Bill Clinton tried to do in South Carolina—to make Sen. Obama “the black candidate”—Sen. Obama has now effectively done to himself. Instead of “come transcend race with me,” his pitch now is, “come talk more about race and about what whites have to do to make things right with blacks.” That will work just fine in winning Democratic votes, but when it comes to attracting Republicans and independents . . . not so much.

This is only reinforced by the sense I’m getting that a lot of people are having the same reaction I am to Sen. Obama’s speech: the more we think about it, the less well certain things sit with us—Sen. Obama throwing his grandmother under the bus, his offering justifications for the Rev. Dr. Wright’s hateful language at the same time as he condemned it, and, fundamentally, the fact that he dodged the fundamental question: if you’re really about what you say you’re about, Senator, why attend that church? Why stay? As Charles Krauthammer asks,

If Wright is a man of the past, why would you expose your children to his vitriolic divisiveness? . . . Why did you give $22,500 just two years ago to a church run by a man of the past who infects the younger generation with precisely the racial attitudes and animus you say you have come unto us to transcend?

So far, only the crickets have answered; and that’s just not good enough.

Hymn for Good Friday

Go to Dark GethsemaneGo to dark Gethsemane,
You that feel the tempter’s power;
Your Redeemer’s conflict see,
Watch with him one bitter hour:
Turn not from his griefs away—
Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.

Follow to the judgment hall;
View the Lord of life arraigned.
O the wormwood and the gall!
O the pangs his soul sustained!
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss—
Learn of him to bear the cross.

Calvary’s mournful mountain climb;
There, adoring, at his feet,
Mark that miracle of time,
God’s own sacrifice complete:
“It is finished!” hear him cry;
Learn of Jesus Christ to die.Words: James Montgomery, alt.
Music: Richard Redhead
REDHEAD, 7.7.7.7.7.7.

The heart of the matter

For the bedtime reading for our two older girls, we’re in the process of working our way through the Chronicles of Narnia; right now, we’re six chapters in on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, which is and always has been my favorite of the books. (Hey, I’m male, and the son of a sailor to boot, and it’s the most classically adventurish of the lot.) This evening, I was reading ahead a bit, and in chapter seven I was struck by an exchange I’d completely forgotten about:

“I think you’ve seen Aslan,” said Edmund.

“Aslan!” said Eustace. “I’ve heard that name mentioned several times since we joined the Dawn Treader. . . . But who is Aslan? Do you know him?”

“Well—he knows me,” said Edmund.”

Well—he knows me. Most of the time, it seems our focus is on whether we know God, or whether other people know God; but Jesus makes it clear that there are plenty of people who “know God” but God doesn’t know them. As my friend the Rev. Tryg Johnson has put it, if we go up to the White House and ask to be let in because we know President Bush, we can talk all day and it won’t get us anywhere; but if President Bush comes out and says, “It’s all right—I know them, they’re friends of mine,” that’s quite another matter. That we know God, if we truly do, is an important thing, yes; but the truly important question is, does God know us? And if we can say, in all honesty and assurance, that we are known by God . . . everything else is secondary to that.

A remarkable speech

This morning in Philadelphia, Barack Obama gave his promised speech on race; and a remarkable speech it was, for many reasons. Reactions to it are all over the map, which is no surprise, and no doubt there will be many more to come over the next few days, but I think we can already say it was an excellent speech; and while it’s always risky to try to write history in the moment, I think too that we can say that whatever becomes of Sen. Obama’s candidacy, this will be seen as an important moment in American history. As Mark Hemingway wrote, Sen. Obama “spoke about as candidly and eloquently about race as one could hope of a politician.” I would add that he did so in a way that I think does honor to the promise of his campaign of a way through, and past, our current racialized politics to a future in which race doesn’t matter. I respect him for that. The question there is, given that Sen. Obama has now acknowledged and accepted race as an issue in this campaign—something he’s largely been trying to avoid to this point (except when he could employ it backhandedly by accusing the Clintons of “playing the race card”)—and thus consigned post-racial politics to the future, rather than seeking to embody them in the present, what will that do to his prospects? At this point, I don’t think anyone can do more than guess.There are probably those (though I haven’t seen anyone yet) who will blast Sen. Obama for not disowning the Rev. Dr. Wright and cutting all ties with him. There’s no question that the Rev. Dr. Wright’s views are offensive—and not just superficially, as he counts as his theological mentor a man who wrote this:

Black theology refuses to accept a God who is not identified totally with the goals of the black community. If God is not for us and against white people, then he is a murderer, and we had better kill him. The task of black theology is to kill Gods who do not belong to the black community. . . . Black theology will accept only the love of God which participates in the destruction of the white enemy.

It’s hard to swallow a presidential candidate being so closely associated with someone who thinks this way; so the argument that Sen. Obama should completely estrange himself from his pastor has force. Personally, though—and yes, I’m a pastor, so I’m biased on this one—I respect him more for not doing so. The Rev. Dr. Wright brought him to Christ, brought him into church, raised him as a Christian, performed his wedding, baptized his children, discipled him across two decades, and has been his mentor and friend for most of his adult life; in my book, anyone who could take a relationship that close and that important to them and sever it for the sake of expediency would be a person of no moral character and precious little courage. Whatever anyone might think of the Rev. Dr. Wright, he deserves better than that from Barack Obama, and I’m glad he got it; and like Paul Mirengoff, I respect Sen. Obama’s courage in giving it to him. (Though, as I should have recognized, he effectively threw his grandmother under the bus for the sake of expediency, and she also deserved better from him than that; that’s a move I cannot respect.)That said, it still raises the question, which Sen. Obama didn’t answer: why is Jeremiah Wright his pastor at all? This is, after all, a relationship of choice; Barack Obama didn’t have to go to that church or develop such a deep relationship with its pastor. Why did he? One cynical explanation is that he did it to give himself credentials on the South Side, building his base for his political career. Another, which I find more compelling, is that he was looking for a sense of identity. It’s easier now to call Sen. Obama biracial, but the man’s 48 years old—when he was a kid, “biracial” wasn’t an option. He was a black boy in a white family, and he felt it; and for all that his mother was white and his father from Kenya, most white Americans would still have seen him as just another black kid. It makes sense that he would have felt the need to identify with the African-American community, and that Trinity UCC under the ministry of the Rev. Dr. Wright would have been powerfully appealing; indeed, as Kathleen Parker suggests, given the prejudices and reactions of the white grandmother who raised him, “the anger Obama heard in Rev. Wright’s church may not have felt so alien after all”—and from his speech this morning, still might not.Taken all in all, I have to think Sen. Obama helped himself with this speech. It’s always brutally difficult to give a message that you have to give and can’t afford to screw up, especially when the stakes are this high and the subject is this difficult, but given that, I think he did about as well as could be expected. The question is, is it enough? Given that even if he has sufficiently addressed concerns about his church, that still leaves his association with Tony Rezko and all the fallout that may come from that, it’s hard to say. At this point, the only thing we can be sure of is this: when they write the political science textbook on the 2008 elections, this will be another chapter.Update: if Mickey Kaus’ analysis is right—and he certainly has more of a track record than I do—then Sen. Obama may actually have hurt himself here, possibly badly.

David Mamet moves right

In what might be the strangest event yet of this truly bizarre election season, renowned playwright David Mamet has published an essay in the Village Voice on “Why I Am No Longer a ‘Brain-Dead Liberal.'” This startling change of mind came during the course of writing a play titled November, which he describes as

a disputation between reason and faith, or perhaps between the conservative (or tragic) view and the liberal (or perfectionist) view. The conservative president in the piece holds that people are each out to make a living, and the best way for government to facilitate that is to stay out of the way, as the inevitable abuses and failures of this system (free-market economics) are less than those of government intervention. I took the liberal view for many decades, but I believe I have changed my mind.

Indeed, it seems he has, as he goes on to write,

Prior to the midterm elections, my rabbi was taking a lot of flack. The congregation is exclusively liberal, he is a self-described independent (read “conservative”), and he was driving the flock wild. Why? Because a) he never discussed politics; and b) he taught that the quality of political discourse must be addressed first—that Jewish law teaches that it is incumbent upon each person to hear the other fellow out. And so I, like many of the liberal congregation, began, teeth grinding, to attempt to do so. And in doing so, I recognized that I held those two views of America (politics, government, corporations, the military). One was of a state where everything was magically wrong and must be immediately corrected at any cost; and the other—the world in which I actually functioned day to day—was made up of people, most of whom were reasonably trying to maximize their comfort by getting along with each other (in the workplace, the marketplace, the jury room, on the freeway, even at the school-board meeting). And I realized that the time had come for me to avow my participation in that America in which I chose to live, and that that country was not a schoolroom teaching values, but a marketplace. “Aha,” you will say, and you are right. I began reading not only the economics of Thomas Sowell (our greatest contemporary philosopher) but Milton Friedman, Paul Johnson, and Shelby Steele, and a host of conservative writers, and found that I agreed with them: a free-market understanding of the world meshes more perfectly with my experience than that idealistic vision I called liberalism.

I suspect this essay will induce a fair bit more tooth-grinding on the part of a lot of liberals, but I hope people can get beyond partisan reactions (whether rage or glee) and read it for its own sake, because it’s a fascinating essay in practical political philosophy (not least for the presence of that rabbi, who I think is spot-on). Plus, I appreciate Mr. Mamet’s concluding paragraph:

The right is mooing about faith, the left is mooing about change, and many are incensed about the fools on the other side—but, at the end of the day, they are the same folks we meet at the water cooler. Happy election season.

A matter of trust

A year and a half ago now, a colleague of mine, preaching at our classis meeting in Colorado Springs, hit me right between the eyes with his sermon. He was preaching about trusting God, and all the reasons God has given us to do so, and how our spiritual life really begins there, at that point; in the moment that etched itself in my mind, he said, “We hear God saying, ‘Obey me, obey me, obey me’; but what God is really saying is, ‘Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.'” As he went on to say, yes, God wants our obedience, but not out of fear, or duty, or desire for reward, or any of the other reasons we come up with; God wants us to obey him because we trust that he truly knows what is best for us, and wants what is best for us, and is at work to do what is best for us.

And that’s the rub, isn’t it? Most of us, at least, don’t trust God for that, and don’t particularly want to. At some level, in at least some things, we believe we know better than God, and that God is telling us “no” because he really doesn’t want what’s best for us—he has some other agenda, some ulterior motive, someone else he wants to benefit at our expense. We don’t obey because we don’t trust; and even when, time and time again, events prove us wrong, trusting God still doesn’t seem to get any easier. And yet, through all of it, he remains faithful even when we are faithless; he remains trustworthy even when we refuse to trust him; and he keeps calling, in the stillness of our souls, “Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.” If only we will learn to listen . . .

A bad week for Barack Obama

If you look at the polls, you see that in the last week or so, John McCain has surged; where he was once clearly behind Sen. Obama and trailing Hillary Clinton as well, now he’s showing a narrow lead. Some of this is probably the ugliness that is the Eliot Spitzer story, which certainly hasn’t made the Democrats look good (and which hits Sen. Clinton harder, given her ties to him); more of it, though, is that courtesy of ABC News, America has discovered Sen. Obama’s pastor, the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright Jr. Those who were paying attention knew about him already, but as with any powerful preacher (and he certainly is that), reading is one thing, seeing is something else again. The result has been to raise some serious questions about Sen. Obama and his campaign; given that so much of his appeal has been his image as a post-racial figure who can be an instrument of racial reconciliation and healing, seeing him so closely tied to a mentor who decidedly isn’t has done him serious damage. Mark Steyn, in his usual snarky fashion, has captured the reactions of many quite well.Sen. Obama, of course, is trying to distance himself from the Rev. Dr. Wright—a problematic thing when this man has been his pastor for two decades, officiating at his wedding and baptizing his children—but it may not work. Really, it shouldn’t; whatever specific words Sen. Obama may or may not have heard his pastor say, you can’t associate that closely for that long with someone of such strong character and opinions and not know what that person is made of. Or at least, anyone who could would be grossly unqualified to serve as president of this (or any) country.Unfortunately for Sen. Obama, l’affaire Wright hits harder because of the Rezko trial. Antoin “Tony” Rezko is of course a very different person from the Rev. Dr. Wright and has played a very different part in Sen. Obama’s life, but his trial has already weakened the Senator and put some cracks in his image. In particular, when Sen. Obama has been arguing that people should vote for him because “in a dangerous world, it’s judgment that matters,” it really hurts him to have to turn around and say, as he did regarding Mr. Rezko, that “his private real estate transactions with Rezko involved repeated lapses of judgment” (emphasis mine); when he’s been running, essentially, on his character, the appearance of character flaws is particularly damaging. It raises the question: if, as Paul Mirengoff argues, Sen. Obama is “the quintessential self-made man,” who is he, really, at his core? The kind of people with whom he associates closely suggests that we might not like the answer; and that suggestion, if it takes root in enough people’s minds, may prove to be the one thing his campaign cannot survive.See also:
Race and the Democrats, Part III
Race and the Democrats, Part IV
The Audacity of Hate, Part One, Two, Three, Four
The Audacity of Hype

Hymn for Palm Sunday

Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty GatesLift up your heads, ye mighty gates;
Behold, the King of glory waits!
The King of kings is drawing near;
The Savior of the world is here.

O blest the land, the city blest,
Where Christ the ruler is confessed!
O happy hearts and happy homes
To whom this King of triumph comes!

Fling wide the portals of your heart;
Make it a temple, set apart
From earthly use for heaven’s employ,
Adorned with prayer and love and joy.

Redeemer, come, with us abide;
Our hearts to thee we open wide;
Let us thy inner presence feel;
Thy grace and love in us reveal.

Thy Holy Spirit lead us on
Until the glorious crown is won;
Eternal praise, eternal fame
Be offered, Savior, to thy Name!Words: Georg Weissel, translated by Catherine Winkworth
Music: Thomas Williams
TRURO, LM