God has hung up his warrior’s bow

File:Double Bows.jpg

Watching for the Morning of February 18, 2018

Year B

The First Sunday of Lent

We hear of God’s covenant with all creation this Sunday, a promise that God will not allow the waters of the primal chaos to overwhelm the earth again. God puts a sign in the heavens as a reminder – not to us but to God! – of God’s promise. In those days when God’s children are shooting one another, abusing one another, warring and thieving and allowing one another to suffer, in those days when God’s children are crucifying one another, God will see and remember that he promised not to destroy us.

It’s rather chilling. I have set my bow in the clouds” God says, and the word ‘bow’ is the word used for the archer’s weapon that Jehu used to murder the fleeing king of Judah. It is the word David uses when he sings of God: “He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze,” or when he sings his lament for Saul and Jonathan after they fell on the battlefield: “From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the mighty, the bow of Jonathan did not turn back, nor the sword of Saul return empty.”

Psalm 7 daringly declares:

God is a righteous judge,
….and a God who has indignation every day.
If one does not repent, God will whet his sword;
….he has bent and strung his bow;
he has prepared his deadly weapons,
….making his arrows fiery shafts.

But God promised to Noah that he would not deal with us according to our sins. God would not wage war on us. God has hung up his battle bow. And on that day when we pounded nails into his hands and feet, he did not call for heavenly armies; he said “Father forgive them.”

We hear this promise spoken to Noah this Sunday. And we hear of Jesus in the wilderness tested by Satan. And we hear the psalmist pray “Do not remember the sins of my youth,” but “Make me to know your ways, O Lord.” And First Peter will remind us that Christ “suffered for sins once for all.” And in this wonderful mix of awe, grace, and repentance, we will begin our season of renewal.

This Sunday we begin our Lenten series on Baptism. For an introduction to this see the post “Baptism & the journey of the human spirit” at Holy Seasons

The Prayer for February 18, 2018

Almighty God, Holy and True,
in your Son, Jesus, you have answered the ancient cry of the prophets
to tear open the heavens and come down to save your people.
Help us hear his voice and be faithful to your reign of grace;
through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and forever.

The Texts for February 18, 2018

First Reading: Genesis 9:8-17
“Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, ‘As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you.’” – God establishes an eternal covenant with Noah and all the creatures of the ark to never again destroy the earth.

Psalmody: Psalm 25:1-10
“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.” – The poet entrusts himself to God and asks God to teach him God’s way.

Second Reading: 1 Peter 3:18-22
“For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God.”
– With imagery that is somewhat foreign to us, Peter proclaims Jesus the victorious one, ascending through the heavens, announcing God’s just judgment on the wicked angels imprisoned since the flood. Then, building on the imagery of the flood, proclaims the saving work of baptism, comparing it to the ark by which the righteous were saved.

Gospel Mark 1:9-15
“He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” – Mark’s narrative of the temptation of Jesus is sweet and to the point. Jesus shows himself to be worthy of the great honor conveyed by God at his baptism when God declared him “my beloved son.”

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Image: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3ADouble_Bows.jpg By Nicholas from Pennsylvania, USA (Double Bows) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Majesty and Mystery

File:Väimela Mäejärv 2011 09.jpg

Watching for the Morning of June 11, 2017

Year A

The Feast of The Holy Trinity

We begin with the creation story from Genesis 1 this Sunday. Then we join in Psalm 8, the paean of praise and wonderment of the God who made us “a little lower than the heavenly beings.” These images of creation are then paired with the Trinitarian commission of the risen Jesus: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you,” and the salutation by Paul: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.”

Set before us on Sunday is the majesty of God: wondrous, grace-filled, life-giving, life-renewing – the beginning and end, source and goal of all things. Jesus’ command to “make disciples” is not to recruit for the home team; it is to gather all people into the holy purpose of God – a beautiful, noble and good world. A world in harmony with God and one another, where we may not necessarily be naked, but there is no shame. Where God dwells with us in the morning that has no end, in the Sabbath rest of all creation, in the holy kiss of heaven and earth. Though it is not assigned for this week, the words of the prophet/poet seem appropriate:

Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet;
righteousness and peace will kiss each other.
Faithfulness will spring up from the ground,
and righteousness will look down from the sky. (Psalm 85:10)

Preaching Series: Genesis 6-9: Noah

Our preaching series on Sunday will take us to the account of the flood in Genesis 6-9. On a day that stands in awe before the majesty of God and the beauty of creation we will hear of the grief of God and a world that nearly falls back into the primordial chaos. We need to linger there before the prospect of a world fallen back into chaos by the spread of violence. We need to hear the voice of God weep that the earth is filled with violencebecause of human beings, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually.” But we also come to hear of the faithfulness of God who, in the face of our violence of body and mind and spirit, works to save his world, vowing never to destroy it: “I will never again curse the ground because of humankind, for the inclination of the human heart is evil from youth; nor will I ever again destroy every living creature as I have done.” This is the one who has come to us and, with spikes through his wrists and feet, prayed Father, forgive them.” And this is the one who sends us to wash the world in the name – the power and grace and presence – of the God who called forth the world and calls us yet to himself.

The Prayer for June 11, 2017

O God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob,
of Moses and Miriam,
of Ruth and David,
of Mary and Joseph;
God wrapped in mystery and wonder,
who breathed life into our first parents
and your Holy Spirit into all creation;
God who loves and fathers and sends
and is loved and begotten and sent;
help us to praise you rightly,
love you fully
and walk with you faithfully;
through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and forever.

The Texts for June 11, 2017

First Reading: Genesis 1:1 – 2:4a
“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth.” – The first chapter of Genesis tells of the creation of all things by God’s word, God’s declaration that the creation is good, God’s blessing of humanity, and their commission to care for the earth.

Psalmody: Psalm 8
“What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” – The psalm celebrates the majesty of God and marvels at the position of honor and responsibility God has given to humanity by entrusting his wondrous creation into their care.

Second Reading: 2 Corinthians 13:11-13
“The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.” –
In his final greeting at the close of his letter to the believers in Corinth, Paul uses the familiar language that ultimately leads to the development of the doctrine of the Trinity.

Gospel: Matthew 28:16-20
“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” – Following Pentecost we return to the Gospel of Matthew, resuming here at the end of the Gospel because of the Trinitarian name: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. With these concluding words, the risen Jesus declares his abiding presence among his followers and sends them to make disciples of all nations.

Image: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AV%C3%A4imela_M%C3%A4ej%C3%A4rv_2011_09.jpg By Vaido Otsar (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Come, let us make bricks

File:India - Sights & Culture - Rural Brick Making Kiln 02 (4040024973).jpg

Wednesday

Genesis 11:1-9

3And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.”

We are in the eleventh chapter of Genesis. This means this story of Babel happens after the flood.

Humanity is not changed by the crises that, but for the grace of God, would have utterly destroyed them. Humanity had not only turned from God and lost the garden; they committed fratricide, violence, and transgressed every boundary – even with heaven, having children with the beings of the heavenly realms. The Genesis account gives the brutal judgment: Every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil continually.”

We are not a people who honor limits. We build ever bigger and more deadly weapons. We join house to house and field to field.” We consume in a day what the earth took a millennium to create. We have trouble respecting sexual boundaries, family boundaries, ethical boundaries.

And we are not changed by the flood. God is changed, God hangs up his weapons of war, but Noah gets drunk and his children transgress him. God blesses humanity again, but yields the right to kill and eat God’s other creatures – just not the blood. But it doesn’t take us long to ignore even that.

And then humanity discovers how to bake bricks – and they are off again, building a tower to the heavens, ready to dethrone God forever.

We will not fill the earth; we will stay and build a city. We will not acclaim God as God; we will “make a name for ourselves.”

But we do not play together well. And we are left with a profoundly divided world. Our aspirations are sabotaged by our passions. ‘Me’ and ‘mine’ triumph over ‘us’ and ‘ours’. The tower goes unfinished and the rupture of one from another descends even to our most basic ability to communicate. We don’t understand each other even when we speak the same language. We misread tone. We misread body language. Even at our best we mishear.

But then comes the child of Mary. Then comes the word made flesh. Then comes Easter and the empty tomb. Then comes Pentecost…a miracle of speaking and hearing.

Every people, every language, every heart – the whole world hears. The world is gathered. The Spirit is poured out. The new day dawns.

We are children of the earth, yes. But we are more. We are children of the empty tomb. And we are children of Pentecost.

So come, let us make bricks – to build bridges rather than walls, and highways rather than towers.

 

Image: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AIndia_-_Sights_%26_Culture_-_Rural_Brick_Making_Kiln_02_(4040024973).jpg By McKay Savage from London, UK [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

The martyr’s path

Thursday

1 John 4:7-21

File:Preparing to enter Ebola treatment unit (5).jpg16God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.

I remember the dinner table argument with my stepfather after I came home from a high school youth retreat filled with joy and zeal. I talked about the “trust walk” where we divided into twos. One person was blindfolded and trusted the other to lead him or her through the wooded paths of our retreat center. It was a metaphor for trusting God, and a practical application of loving one another. But something in that story set my stepfather off, and pretty soon we were arguing whether I would let a member of the Black Panthers lead me blindfolded through the streets of Oakland. He was certain I was foolish, and the militant African-American foot soldier would lead me out into the middle of traffic.

I know better, now, that there is evil in the world. I also know that evil does not come easily. I stand by my argument that I would not have been harmed in Oakland; I am not sure if that would apply just now in the battlefields of ISIL

“God is love” can seem pretty simple-minded in the hard-nosed world. And my stepfather was right to think me naïve. But God is love. And loving as we are loved requires great strength of character. It is a far more difficult, costly, and sometimes dangerous, path than I imagined as a teen.

“God is Love.” God is steadfast fidelity to the world, to humanity, to each of us. God is a determined allegiance, a zealous choice to see each of us as members of his household despite the ways we use, abuse and defame him and one another. “Every imagination of the human heart was only evil continually,” is God’s observation at the time of Noah, yet God rescues Noah and his family – not because they were so righteous, but because God was faithful and would not abandon the world he had made. Humanity is no different when they descend from the ark. The disaster does not change them; but God is changed. God hangs his Kalashnikov in the heavens – pointing no longer at humanity but, if anywhere, at himself. God will take the bullet.

God is Love. Determined to create a world without slavery, he rescues Israel and Egypt. At great cost. Human willfulness does not die easily. Children were dying under slavery. In the end, God had to let all Egypt see the death they were dealing.

God is Love. Determined to create a just and merciful world. And the price has been terribly high. Not just the fall of the northern kingdom, nor the brutal siege and sacking of Jerusalem. Ultimately it comes to a cross outside Jerusalem where God lays his own life on the line. And still we persist. Still children perish. Still God confronts us with our terrible works: death camps, razed cities, nuclear weapons, impoverished communities, refugees, a child with a broken neck dragged into a police van. God makes us see all the crucified.

God is Love. We are slow to learn. There is a terrible price. But there are some who understand.

The martyr’s path is holy. Not the martyr’s path chosen by radical Islam – that is the great and wide path of violence. But the narrow path that risks all to feed the hungry, to teach the children, to tend the sick. The martyr’s path is holy, the path that sets aside the self for the sake of another. The path that treats a stranger as brother and sister. The path that gives what cannot be returned: tender love to the dying, faithful care to the troubled, friendship to the lonely.

This martyr’s path is holy. We tend to denigrate it. And the concept is often misused. But there is something sacred about those who sacrifice self for another, something that goes to the very heart of God. For God is love.

 

Photo:  Dr. Joel Montgomery, Team Lead for CDC’s Ebola Response Team in Liberia, adjusts a colleague’s PPE before entering the Ebola treatment unit (ETU), ELWA 3, operated by Médecins Sans Frontières/Doctors Without Borders.  By CDC Global (Preparing to enter Ebola treatment unit) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Renewal

Watching for the Morning of February 22, 2015

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Ilya Repin, Tempation of Christ.

Our theme for the season of Lent this year is Renewal: renewing faith, renewing friendships, renewing families, renewing the earth. We will still read the texts in our Sunday service; they will still infuse our worship, but our hearing of them will be shaped by the theme of renewal.

It makes me nervous, of course. I don’t like preaching on themes.   I remember reading a little book on preaching my senior year in seminary where Gerhard Von Rad (I think) said that every young preacher has about six sermons in him – and after that, he or she has to start preaching the text. There is nothing eternal in my words. But there is life in the words that come to us as scripture.

Still, every text is shaped by the time and place in which it is read, by the health or weariness of the community, by the cries and joys that surround us. The text is shaped by the day. It speaks to a moment in time. And our moments in this Lenten season will be shaped by our hope for renewal.

The readings this coming Sunday are rich and wonderful, starting with God’s promise to Noah and all the creatures aboard the ark that God will never again war against humanity. God binds himself with a promise, and sets a sign of that promise in the sky.

1 Peter will use the story of those eight saved in the ark as an image for baptism and God’s promise to carry us safely to a world washed and renewed.

And Mark will tell us of Jesus in the wilderness, tested by Satan, and attended by angels. He is the faithful Son. He is the new Adam – dwelling in peace with the “wild animals”.

The psalmist rightly sings of God’s faithfulness. So it will be proper to speak about renewing our trust in God, and praying with the psalm “Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long.”

The Prayer for February 22, 2015

In the wilderness, O God, you watched over Jesus
and he kept faith with you.
Watch over us,
renewing our lives and our world
that, rooted in your Spirit and in your Word,
our trust in you may be deepened,
and we may prove faithful to you and to all;
through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and forever.

The Texts for February 22, 2015

First Reading: Genesis 9:8-17
“Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, ‘As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you.’” – God establishes an eternal covenant with Noah and all the creatures of the ark to never again destroy the earth.

Psalmody: Psalm 25:1-10
“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.” – The poet entrusts himself to God and asks God to teach him God’s way.

Second Reading: 1 Peter 3:18-22
“For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God.”
– With imagery that is somewhat foreign to us, Peter proclaims Jesus the victorious one, ascending through the heavens, announcing God’s just judgment on the wicked angels imprisoned since the flood. Then, building on the imagery of the flood, proclaims the saving work of baptism, comparing it to the ark by which the righteous were saved.

Gospel Mark 1:9-15
“He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” – Mark’s narrative of the temptation of Jesus is sweet and to the point. Jesus shows himself to be worthy of the great honor conveyed by God at his baptism when God declared him “my beloved son.”

 

Image: By Ilya Repin (Bukowskis) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

A belated post on the importance of celebrating Epiphany

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Grötlingbo Kyrka auf Gotland. Taufstein von Meister Sigraf ( 1200 ): Heilige Drei Könige

Epiphany. Shining. Manifest. Revealed. Made known. Antiochus IV called himself ‘Epiphanes’ – the manifestation of God on earth. He was the king who attempted to stamp out the strange, exclusive, unmodern faith of Israel and sparked the Maccabean revolt.

He is hardly the first human ruler to consider himself the manifestation of God in human form – nor the last. Few would remember him had he not tried to install an image of himself in the temple of Jerusalem, among a people who passionately opposed all such images and all other gods.

It is an affliction for all those with great wealth and power to believe that they rule by the modern equivalent of divine right: the myth of the free market means they have merited their wealth – no matter how crooked the game – that they are, therefore, by definition, superior humans, fit to tell other humans how to live, fit to decide who prospers and who falls, fit to decide who lives and who dies. War for bananas, war for oil, war for political influence, war for a fit of pique, it matters little. Britain went to war upon China because China didn’t want the British importing opium. But there was profit to be made. Big profits. The bankers crashed the economy because they thought they were smarter than everyone else and above the rules. (And we let them get away with it, so they are off on their divine right quest again. Thanks to riders slipped into the “CRomnibus bill” in return for their huge donations, they are able again to gamble with the government insured deposits or ordinary people.)

But it is not just the big muckety-wumps who think they are gods. We have all had teachers who acted this way, and bosses, and neighbors. Even clergy: why else would someone feel they have the right to put their hand down a little boy’s pants?

And there is a little tyrant in all of us.

It was bold of ancient Israel to declare we were made in the image of God rather than born of the blood of the chaos monster. The evidence seems to go the other way.

Epiphany. This day that seems like an afterthought to the sweet story of the baby Jesus, this day is desperately important. We are not the manifestation of God on earth; he is. He is our true humanity. He is our true unbroken spirit – our uncorrupted spirit. Unbent. Untwisted. Un-curved in upon itself. He is the faithful son humanity has failed to be. He is the love for which we were fashioned. He is the light that shines in our world of false lights. He is our redeeming grace, our hope for rebirth.

Like Noah he turns away the wrath of God and offers the world a new beginning. He is the one, true epiphany, the one, true manifestation of the face of both God and man.

Photo: By Wolfgang Sauber (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Slow to anger

Thursday

Psalm 145

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The prophet Jonah, Frescos in the interior of Oratorio dei Disciplini, Clusone. Photocredit: Mattana

8 The Lord is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

Considering that most gods were easy to enrage, this is a remarkable confession by ancient Israel. Slow to anger. In the Babylonian myth, the gods created humanity from the blood of the chaos monster (as servants) and then regretted their decision because humans were too noisy. I don’t know the myth well-enough to say whether it was the cacophony of human enterprise, the shrill cries of violence and war, or the incessant chatter of humanity’s petitions – their endless cries for daily bread – but like irritated elites, the gods sent a flood to silence them. Noah, of course, outwitted the gods – sailing for safety to the mountain of the gods – a cleverness for which he was rewarded with immortality.

Against that backdrop, the Biblical writers told a remarkably different story – of a humanity whose wickedness knew no bounds (“every imagination of the thoughts of the hearts was only evil continually”) but where God’s mercy rescued humanity, warning Noah, gathering the animals, and gently closing the door of the ark.

Slow to anger.

We have perhaps taken that mercy for granted. In a world marred by death camps and death marches and a vast improvement upon the little first-generation bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki that killed some 100,000 people at a single stroke, and again as many in the months following – the fact that we argue such weapons were necessary to prevent even greater loss of life is only evidence for how far we have fallen from God’s vision for us. This week a friend sent me information about a home raided by authorities were the bodies of dead infants (perhaps stillborn fetuses, if the mother is to be believed) were found beneath the littered and fetid mess of unwashed children, garbage and piles of diapers. The news is preoccupied with the brutal behavior of NFL players, and the beheadings of foreign journalists in the Middle East has roused us to new levels of bombing.

Slow to anger.

Maybe God is too slow to anger. Maybe we would rather a God who would storm from the heavens and throw a few lightening bolts at our butchery and hate. Jonah is certainly enraged by God’s decision to forgive Nineveh, that great city whose empire had brought such suffering to the world, the people who had conquered and dispersed forever the ten northern tribes of Israel. Jonah can’t quite understand why God should care about such people. Jonah can’t bring himself to see them as God’s children. We don’t either, or we wouldn’t be so quick to war.

Slow to anger.

Slow to anger because God’s purpose is not to punish evil but reclaim his rebel world. Slow to anger, because God’s purpose is not to whip a recalcitrant humanity into line – fear can do that if you are willing to be ruthless enough. Slow to anger because God hopes eternally to help us recover our lost humanity.

And so Jesus on the cross doesn’t hurl invective against those evil few who have conspired against him or who have followed orders to torture him to death. He calls on no army of angels. He summons no firebolts. He speaks instead words of kindness, trust in God, and forgiveness.

God is not ignoring the evil that is done. And God is by no means excusing our evil. But he is calling to us. Calling for us to see the work of our hands.  Calling for us to change direction. Calling for us to see the enemy as people for whom God cares. Calling for us to live the steadfast love God shows.

We are grateful for such love and mercy when it is shown to us; we just have trouble understanding why God shows it to others. And until we do, we will continue to build our little arsenals of hate and fear.

8 The Lord is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

Do we really want a God who does not get angry?

Psalm 30

5 his anger is but for a moment;

Noah's ark

Noah’s ark (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We don’t like to talk about God’s anger.  Rightly so.  There have been generations governed by fear that, if they stepped out of line, God would be there to whack them down.  The all seeing eye, watching, waiting, ruler in hand.  And even if some, convinced of their own righteousness, think they have no reason to fear, they have been willing to use it as a tool for governing others.  It is good to leave such behind.  It is not consistent with the scriptures that tell of a god who waits to be gracious (Isaiah 30:18).

But can it be that God is not angry when school children are gunned down, when workers are crushed in a poorly constructed building, when communities are poisoned by industrial waste, when tyrants rule by terror and armies rape and pillage?  Can it be that God is not angry with the authors and bystanders of death camps and gulags and killing fields?  Can it be that God is not angry at the infected blankets given to native peoples or the slaughter of their women and children?  Is God unaffected by torture or human trafficking?  Is God unmoved by young girls forced into prostitution? Do we really want a God who does not get angry?

The question is not whether God gets angry, but what God does with his anger.  Same question for us, of course, and generally what we do with our anger is not pleasant.  Yet we feel justified in expressing our anger but horrified should God do so.

I would be horrified if God gave vent to his anger – not because God has not the right, but because there is much for which we should be afraid, starting with starving children.  Lazarus at the gate.

5 For his anger is but for a moment;
       his favor is for a lifetime.

The point is not that God’s anger is short-lived and his love eternal – that sounds too much like an abusive parent – but that God’s anger is governed by his favor.  Love governs wrath.

What God does with his anger is Jesus.  God does not strike back.  God does not strike down.  God steps forward.

We have this message in the story of Noah, too, when God steps back from his anger and hangs up his archer’s bow vowing he will not make war on humanity, despite the fact “that every imagination of the human heart is only evil continually.”  Though evil follows the flood, God steps forward with a promise to Abraham to bring blessing to the world.

No sentence is more powerful in scripture than the one Jesus speaks to his torturers: “Father forgive them, they know not what they do” – not meaning that these soldiers don’t know they’re killing someone important, but that we don’t see what has become of the human spirit: that we can mock and spit and pound nails and leave someone to die slowly while the ravens peck out their eyes.  We do not know that we have lost God and our humanity.

But God steps forward.  God has hung up his weapons of war.  God has shouldered humanity’s ugliness.  When Jesus commands us to love our enemies, he knows of what he speaks.  It is the choice God made.