God, Murdered and Risen

                     

 

Introduction

God is alive.

After his resurrection Jesus went about proving   that he had  risen from the dead, and was alive. The liturgy of Easter Week abounds with that proof.  //On Easter Monday the women, running  from the tomb, are suddenly faced with the risen Christ who wishes them peace (Mt 28:8-15). //On Tuesday he appears to Mary Magdalene who thinks he's the gardener (Jn 20:11-18).  //On Wednesday the downcast disciples come upon Jesus, as they journey to Emmaus, and at the last moment they recognize him in the breaking of the bread (Lk 24:13-35). //On  Friday Jesus appears to the Apostles who are fishing without much luck, and when he bids them cast the net on the right side, they make a stunning catch of fish (Jn 21:1-14). //In today's gospel too (same one for last Thursday) Jesus appears to the disciples and invites them to touch his hands and feet,  and then he downs a fish for them.  The point: “Ghosts don’t eat fish” (Jn 24:35-48

 

For fifty days Jesus went about this business of poof. Then, almost as though he were tired out, he ascended to the right hand of the Father, where he now rests up from all his labors.  That marks the end of miraculous proof but not the end of proof itself. Before leaving he commissioned us saying, "You, who say that you are my friends and that you love me, now you take over. Go into whole world and preach the gospel – preach the good news that I am not dead.”

 

God is dead.

(killed by hi-tech)

In the sixties and seventies there rose a school of theologians whose bottom-line was: God is dead because God, ”the author of life,” has been killed, murdered (Acts 3:15).  The Death-of-God theology  was a  fad  that    died rather quickly,  but not before scoring  a few good points. //Some claimed God is dead because our words about God have killed  God; they  have  become meaningless,  trite, misleading, inadequate, etc. //Others maintained  that  God is dead because our technology has killed God. We don’t need God anymore.  With our hi-tech, we can now do for ourselves everything we used to expect God to do for us, and even more.

 

(killed by inhumanity)

Even more plausible were  those  theologians who made the  point that the unspeakable inhumanity of  humans towards each other has effectively killed God --   “the author of life.”  They had in mind the GULAG, a net work of prisons that stretched across the whole expanse of the former soviet Union,  which incarcerated as many as 14-20 million people at one time. They had in mind the  Nazi concentration camps of Auschwitz, Buchenwald, Dachau, Babi Yar  -- in which was concentrated the most incredible inhumanity  of all times. <<We recall the words of Elie Wiesel, the most  famous of all  concentration camp survivors: “Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed. … Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God <<and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God himself. Never>>.” (Night by Elie Weisel).

 

Then add to all that  --   the unspeakable atrocities of the second half of the twentieth century:  //the bombing of the World Trade Center in New York City and of the Federal Building in Oklahoma City;   //the school massacres, especially the one in Littleton, Colorado; //the beheading of a black man  as he was being dragged  by white men behind their truck in Jasper, Texas; //the beating to a pulp of Mat Sheppard, the gay student from Wyoming State U., by two skinheads who tied him to a wooden fence out in the country and left him to die there bathed in his own tears and blood.  Out of that huge heap of inhumanity, there arises a stark  question which no longer asks “Where is God?” This question asks, “Is God at all?”  <<Out of that immense heap piled as high as the corpses of Auschwitz rises Nietche’s famous cry: “God is dead.” >>

 

(Killed by the “religious”)

To that great heap of God-killers, who put  “the author of life to death,” must be added also the extreme religious right (not the religious right but the extreme religious right).  Their God is always in hot pursuit of the “politically correct.”  Or their God is  always bashing away at someone; at Mat Sheppard’s funeral the extreme religious right carried its signs: “God hates fags.” “God buries gays in hell.” Or their God is always excluding someone. Some years ago the religious leader of one of the mainstream Protestants denominations  made the incredible assertion on TV that God does not hear the prayers of Jews because they do not ask for anything in Jesus’ name! No wonder one of those Death-of-God theologians wrote a book in those days entitled, Your God’s too Small for Me.

 

Conquest at dawn

It’s the “religious” (not the irreligious) who effectively roll a stone before the tomb of Jesus and block the exit for him.  For over twenty years now my dog and I have headed for the lake at early dawn. In that long span of time,  you acquire some smarts along the way. Just last Sunday before Mass, Simeon and I were  on our way. It was just before the sun was coming out of Lake Michigan (6 a.m. at this time of the year). I heard a call from the lake side of the street, beckoning  me to come over. I went across, and there were four young people there. They introduced themselves and greeted me in a rather lovey-dovey sort of way; it was almost a little too  “thick.” But anyway, I said to my self at first, “Oh this is a welcome change from the rudeness or the crudeness or the just plain zilch that you sometimes get from young people.” After politely shaking hands  and introducing themselves, one of them extended  an invitation to me, saying, “You’re  welcome to stay on with us, and  greet with  us the rising sun.” With those words, I immediately knew what they were all about.  (I had gone through this  before.)

 

 They were out to give witness to me  that Jesus is alive and well. Now that’s not always as innocent as it looks.  It’s not always as simple and pure as it sounds. Before you know they’re asking you, “Is Jesus your personal savior?” or “Are you saved?” Before you know it, they’re telling you, “You won’t get it if you don’t ask for it in Jesus name!” Before you know it, they’re breathing scripture texts into your face, like “No one comes to the  Father except through me” ((Jn 14:6).   I usually end up fighting with those  people. The fight is all about being approached as a job to be (a conversion to be made) instead of as a human being to be loved. I resents being a potential  feather in someone’s cap or  notch in someone’s  belt.

 

 In the past I have tried to tone them down by telling them I am a priest. It doesn’t impress them at all. It only makes matters worst. They say to you, “Oh we are not talking about  ‘that stuff.’ We’re talking about being ‘ born-again.’” At the end of the day, I  always tell them  something that’s a bit cryptic, a conundrum for them to crack open.  I say to them: “All  you’re interested in is my love for Jesus, but not Jesus’ love for me.”  It’s cryptic, I know, but think it over; the distinction is immense:  “All  you’re interested in is spreading the world’s love of Jesus (that’s called conquest), but not Jesus’ love of the world (that’s called the Gospel  --  the Good News). 

 

You get smarter with the years. This time I didn’t fight, because nothing ever comes of it. I simply excused myself by saying, “No. I can’t stay; I have an appointment.”  Which, indeed, I did: Mass here at Old St. Mary’s. 


A lady without guile

It made me think, though,  about the 20ieth century’s most  powerful witness that God is not dead  but is alive and well.  I  say it without fear of challenge:  her name is Mother Theresa of India. Her love was utterly simple and pure. She never had conquest in mind.  She picked up hundred and even thousands of dying people off the streets of Calcutta, and not one of the did she approach as a job to be done (a conversion to be made), but simply and purely as a human being to beloved. Into none of their faces  did she ever breath one single Christian scripture. Who knows if she ever poured even  one drop of baptismal water over any one of their heads. << She simply and purely kissed them all and sent them all off to eternity healed. Healed of their terrible self-image imposed on them by an uncaring and (mind you) “religious” society that walked right by them as they lay dying in the streets. She simply and purely kissed them all, and they all died  healed, because they all died believing, perhaps for the first time in their lives, that they were human beings. That little lady rolled away the huge stone that  the preceding century dumped before the entrance to Jesus’ tomb.>>

 

Conclusion

(Victory on the road to Jericho)

No one so effectively kills God for us, and blocks the exit of Jesus’ tomb as do the so-called  “religious.” How well Jesus made that point when he  crafted for us that Mother of All Parables:  the Good Samaritan. “Once upon a time a man was going from Jerusalem to Jericho and was waylaid by  robber, beaten to a pulp, and was left half-dead. Along came two “religious” people, one a  Jewish priest and the other a Jewish levite; neither stopped to pour the oil of compassion into the poor man’s wounds. Both went on their selfish ways. Finally along came an “irreligious” Samaritan, who is “racially impure,” and who worships on the “wrong mountain” (Jn 4:19). He stopped and poured the oil of compassion into the poor man’s wounds, then gently hoisted  him on his beast of burden and carried him  off to the nearest  inn. There  he dug deeply into his pocket, and pulled out the cost of caring for an unfortunate brother.”

 

 On that road to Jericho that day, just as on the road to Calcutta,  there were two casualties: first there was a human being left dying by the wayside. And secondly there was God murdered by  "religious" people who went on their selfish way.   But, praise God, on the road to Jericho and Calcutta there was also resurrection and victory: the murdered God was raised from the dead by a good Samaritan  and also by a little whisper of a lady  called Mother Theresa. And the both of them powerfully extend to us their utterly pure and simple invitation, ”to stay on, and to greet with them the rising sun.