Madness

If you are a news junkie like me, this has been quite a week.

A ferry sank in South Korea, most likely killing hundreds of teenage children

The Malaysian airline plane is still missing

A white supremacist gunned down three innocent people around a Jewish center

Remembering the tragedy of the Boston Marathon bombing

Two hundred young girls were kidnapped from their boarding school in Nigeria

And those are just some of the big stories I heard on the national news, which doesn't even touch on the stories from our communities, our neighborhoods, our families.  It's been a depressing week for our world.  But it was also Holy Week.  So when I read this passage in my theology textbook* at the beginning of the week, the message stuck with me and gave me hope.  The authors had just shared a passage from Alice in Wonderland where Alice was talking with the Cheshire Cat and trying to make sense of her surroundings in Wonderland.

"With Lewis Carroll, it is not too difficult to make the case that our world is mad, or has gone mad - disordered, uncontrolled, senseless, frenzied, fanatical, panic-stricken, insane in many respects.  According to the Christian gospel, it was into such a world that God the Father sent his Son, who in the power of the Spirit walked this earth full of truth and grace, preaching and embodying a message of faith and hope and love  But for all his earnest efforts, Christ was nailed to a cross.  We crucified God.  That is indeed madness - by any standard a murder, an injustice, a tragedy, an absurdity.  Headline: Creature Kills Creator.  What is even more absurd is that Christ came back to us and issued an "all forgiven."  Theology negotiates this madness of divine love in a world still mad, yet searching."

I love celebrating Easter.  I love that Christ conquered death.  I love that the madness in our world is not the end of our story.  Jesus Christ is risen today.  Alleluia.



* An Introduction to Christian Theology, by Richard J Plantinga, Thomas R. Thompson, and Matthew D. Lundberg, p. 44-45.

Good (?) Friday

Today is Good Friday.  Today is the day Jesus died.  The part of me that wants to be a super-devoted Christian who is spiritually and emotionally walking through Holy Week with Jesus and his disciples thinks that today should be a low point.  It should be somber, it should be reflective, it should be sad.  But after reading through the story of Jesus' crucifixion I felt stumped. "I have so much life to live today," I thought.  "But today is the day Jesus died.  How can I reconcile those things?"

I've also been thinking about the disciples this week.  Did they start to panic in the upper room when Jesus told them that one of them would betray him?  Did they fear for their own lives then?  I think they did after Jesus was arrested.  Just look at poor Peter, who declared that he would never forsake Jesus and then denied him three times.  None of them stuck up for Jesus as he was being shuffled around from Herod to Pontius Pilate to Golgotha.  None of them stuck their necks out in defense of Jesus.  Why?  Were they dumbfounded with horror at what was happening?  Were they afraid of being beaten or killed themselves?  Or maybe both.

I've been struggling with my own silent voice this week.  Last Sunday our pastor handed each of the kids a bag with twelve easter eggs in it and a note.  The kids were supposed to fill eleven of the eggs and then hide them all in a friend's yard.  The note informed the friend that they had been "egged" and to not be surprised that one egg was empty because it represents Jesus' empty tomb.  The back of the note listed our church's Easter Sunday services.  I wanted Little B to participate so yesterday morning we took his bag over to Little D's house while he was gone at preschool and hid the eggs (3 year old style:)  What bugs me about the whole thing is how flustered I was when I asked Little D's mom if we could do this.  I was so worried that they would feel "evangelized" by us that I talked really fast and blabbered and could barely explain what it was we wanted to do.

Where does this fear of sharing faith come from?  My theology reading from this week observed that factors from the Enlightenment period shifted faith into the private, rather than public, sector.  I think this is an interesting idea, that society as a whole gives off the message "Don't talk to me about your faith," but I think it's a small part of the answer to my question.  The disciples couldn't stand up for their faith because they feared for their life.  I can't stand up for my faith because I'm afraid of offending others.  I hate that about myself.  But I guess it leaves me right where I wanted to somehow be today.  At the foot of the cross.  Mourning my inability to stay true to my God.  Confused and horrified at what he has to suffer because of me and my sin.

"Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, 'I am thirsty.'  A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus' lips.  When he had received the drink, Jesus said, 'It is finished.' With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit."  John 19: 28-30