Lenten Meditation #3

Written in Hebrew, and Greek, and Latin.
(John 19:20)

Still musing over Irvin Yalom’s When Nietzsche Wept. It’s the kind of novel that lingers. Nietzsche makes much of the ancient Greek poets and philosophers. As opposed to our Christian God of the Cross; Nietzsche opts for Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and dance, emotions and instincts, desire and passion. Nietzsche is not interested in our “Man of Sorrows” (Isa 53:3). He desires Dionysus, a more heroic god.

It caused me to wonder about those Greeks who came to Philip, one of Jesus’ disciples with a good Greek name; and asked him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus” (Jn 12:20-22). Chances are they saw Jesus a few days later hanging on a Roman Cross with a sign written in Hebrew, Greek and Latin: “JESUS OF NAZARETH THE KING OF THE JEWS” (Jn 19:20). Hebrew, the language of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob—of the Law and the Prophets and the Psalms. Greek, the language of culture and of the New Testament; and, Latin, the language of Roman rule and power. The sign caused a fuss. It was Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor’s idea. Despite the fuss, Pilate sticks with his Hebrew, Greek and Roman sign. A good decision, since there were Greeks and Romans present at the Cross. What happened on Golgotha was for all people: “every nation, tribe, people and language” (Rv 7:9).

Later on, after Easter and Pentecost, the Apostle Paul will come to certain Greeks gathered on their hill of philosophical discourse located in Athens, the center of such culture and thought. From Golgotha in Jerusalem, to Mar’s Hill in Athens—who would of thought. Quoting from their own poets and philosophers, the Apostle urges them to come to Jesus: “Giving assurance to all by raising him from the dead” (Acts 17:31). Something of a fuss followed the message. But the Gospel had its way, and “some became believers including Dionysus…” (vs 34). Dionysus takes his name from Nietzsche’s god. But on this day, Dionysus turns from Nietzsche’s god to the God of Calvary. Tradition has it that Dionysus became pastor of the Athenian church.

Caused me to think, had I Yalom’s intellect and literary gifts; I might write a novel called “When Dionysus Wept.” Not the god of wine and dance, but that Athenian who bore his name. It would be a story about how a Greek philosopher by the name of Dionysus came to see Jesus that day on Mar’s Hill—of all places.

Lenten Meditation #2:

If Possible…

(Philippians 3:10)

For Lent, I’ve been reading When Nietzsche Wept, a novel by Irvin Yalom. It doesn’t stir much morning fire. The story is set in 1882 Vienna when a medical doctor of renown seeks to cure Nietzsche of his sickness of despair. Friedrich Nietzsche, on the verge of becoming a philosopher of renown himself, insist that “despair is the price one pays for self-awareness.” “Look deeply into life,” Professor Nietzsche professes, “and you will always find despair.” For Nietzsche, to claim faith in God, is to chicken out. One must muster the will to face the abyss without God.

There’s something admirable about Nietzsche’s honest and heroic atheism. It causes me to seek such honesty with my own faith in our God of the Gospel—the God of Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Good Friday, Easter Morning, and Pentecost. That brought me back to my Lenten Meditation (Phil 3:10):

That I may know Christ

                  and the power of his resurrection,

      and the fellowship of his sufferings;

becoming like him in his death,

      that if possible I may attain

      the resurrection from the dead.

There’s nothing escapist about such faith. It’s honest and courageous. There’s hope in it—the kind of hope that cures our despair. But this hope is not an idea; nor, is it simply wishful thinking. It does not spring from sentential poems. It’s honest and real. It’s a hope tied to the reality of Immanuel—God with us. God with us in our sufferings, and God with us in our death. And God with us, if possible, in our resurrection from the dead.

“If possible…” Shouldn’t the Apostle come up with something better than “if possible”? Maybe the Apostle’s “if possible” reminds us that it’s not our doing. In death, our doing is over. The next move is wholly God’s doing. We, of ourselves—by the power of our own will, cannot bring about “the resurrection from the dead.” It lays in God’s hands alone. We have faith that it will be so; because, the tomb is empty and the stone has been rolled away, and Christ is on the loose.

Lenten Meditation #1:

The Last Enemy to be Destroyed is Death.

(First Corinthians 15:26)

Haven’t had much to say lately. Still moping around. Maybe Lent will help. Still thinking of the Apostle’s strange words of comfort—especially that last verse (1Cor 15:26):

For Christ must reign

        until he has put all his enemies under his feet.

        The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

That death is an enemy. Maybe that’s the first thing to be said—that the Gospel sees death as an enemy. An enemy that met its end on Good Friday and Easter Morning; but, an enemy that still has its sting (vs 55) until “the last trumpet sound” (vs 52).

During our forty days of Lent, we are invited to enter into “the fellowship of Christ’s sufferings” (Phil 3:10). Here’s the whole of it:

That I may know Christ

        and the power of his resurrection,

        and the fellowship of his sufferings;

becoming like him in his death,

        that if possible I may attain

        the resurrection from the dead.

Remarkable, isn’t it? To know Christ, is to know the whole of him. It’s Easter Morning that makes the whole of Christ worth knowing. Without Easter, we wouldn’t bother. But the whole of Christ, is not just his resurrection, but his sufferings and death as well. If we were to sneak out of his sufferings and death, we wouldn’t know Christ. Lenten Season, with the help of Advent, Christmas and Epiphany, helps us enter into the “fullness of Christ” (Eph 4:13):

      -Advent                 Our longing for God to show up

      -Christmas             Immanuel, God with us in a manager

      -Epiphany              The appearance of God in Christ—Jesus’ earthly life among us

      -Lent                     How he suffered for us

      -Holy Week           How Easter turns Calvary into Good Friday

      -Eastertide             How Christ’s resurrection changes everything

      -Pentecost             How the Holy Spirit makes Christ present among us

      -Ordinary Days     How we live our ordinary life within the sphere of knowing the whole of Christ. The whole of Christ frees us to engage in the whole of life—with all its sorrows and joys. Then, after Ordinary Days, we do it again: Advent and Christmastide, Epiphany and Lent, Good Friday and Easter Morning, Pentecost and Ordinary Days. There’s a rhythm to it.

What Brings Comfort?

Comfort One Another With These Words…

(First Thessalonians 4:18)

We did it all—burial, funeral, luncheons, dinners, remembrances. It was all good—very good. Yet, it still haunts. It hangs over us—Gary died. It’s not just Gary; it’s the pilling up of mortality signals: contemporaries dying as all must die, purchase of our own cemetery plot (close to parents and Kinsers), finishing up our estate trust (such as it is); thinning out, or trying to thin out, our earthly belongings—that sort of thing.

“The dead in Christ shall rise” (1Thess 4:16); those are the words the Apostle tells us will bring comfort. Maybe it’s that word “dead” that messes with our sense of comfort. What does it mean to be “dead in Christ”? Elsewhere, the Apostle speaks again of “those who have died in Christ” (1Cor 15:13-26):

If there is no resurrection of the dead,                            

        then Christ has not been raised;

If Christ has not been raised,

        then your faith has been in vain…

For if the dead are not raised,

        then Christ has not been raised.

If Christ has not been raised,

        your faith is futile and you are still in your sins.

Then those also who have died in Christ

        have perished.

If for this life only we have hoped in Christ,

        we are of all people most to be pitied.

But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead,

        the first fruits of those who have died.

For since death came through a human being,

        the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being;

for as all die in Adam,

        so all will be made alive in Christ.

But each in his own order:

        Christ the first fruits,

        then at his coming those who belong to Christ.

Then comes the end,

        when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father,

        after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power.

For Christ must reign

        until he has put all his enemies under his feet.

        The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

Wow! Does that help? Or, is it still too dense and wild to bring comfort? The Gospel is always bigger and more rambunctious than we imagine. It has to do with creation itself, with Adam and with Christ. To be “dead in Christ” means we die within the sphere of Christ’s big Gospel Story:

            Our help is in the name of the Lord,

        who created the heavens and the earth;

and in our Savior, Christ Jesus,

        who abolished death,

and now brings life and immortality to light

        through the Gospel” (Ps 124:8 & 2Tm 1:10).       

That’s it. That’s our hope. That’s our only comfort.