Invalid Judgment

            The Teacher had made such a profound impact on the community that the Leader invited him to dinner. His public renown was incredible and as the undisputed authority in the village, this Teacher needed to be examined and validated to ensure he was authentic.  After all, the village Leader could not afford the risk of a rogue educator running amok and upsetting the simple tranquility of his village and their deeply-held religious traditions.

            The Teacher made his way into the Leader’s house to be welcomed with all the respect and dignity his profound reputation called for. The table was set with the Leader’s finest china and silver. The rich smells of exquisite cuisine were flowing out of the kitchen as the dinner party took their seats at the regal table. By all indications, tonight they would all feast like kings.

            No sooner had they sat down than a disgusting creature entered the room.  Her clothes vividly revealed her gangly figure as she dauntingly skirted past the Leader and made her way to the teacher. Sulking behind her long and scraggly hair, the woman’s hardened face was difficult to make out, but the Leader knew instantly who—and what—she was. More so than the teacher’s, her scandalous reputation was well known in the community.

            The Leader’s first instinct was to have her quickly and forcibly removed from his home. It was, in fact, the first time a person of such ill repute was ever allowed in his home. Rather than treat her as he knew she deserved, however, the Leader paused and waited to see what the teacher would do. It was a test and, at least in the Leader’s mind, the Teacher was about to fail—and fail he did!

            The woman went straight to the Teacher and immediately broke open a beautiful jar of perfume which she then poured over the Teacher’s feet. Sobbing uncontrollably, she then wiped the Teacher’s feet with her hair and to the amazement of all present, the Teacher did nothing.

            The unanticipated test now complete, the Leader knew everything he needed to know. This man was not worth the fine reputation he had amassed. His credibility was as worthless as the heathen sinner now sobbing at his feet. “Clearly this man is a first-rate fraud,” the Leader thought quietly to himself with a sedulously satisfied grin. “If this man were authentic, he’d know better than to let one of her kind make such a spectacle of herself in front of him, let alone actually touch him! Disgusting!”

            Looking up, and clearly discerning his innermost thoughts, the Teacher asked the now incredulous Leader a question. “You are a talented business man so please tell me. If you had the option to forgive debts and you forgave one person a very small debt and forgave another person a very large debt, which of the two would be more grateful?” “The one with the large debt forgiven,” the Leader answered. “Consider the debt she’s been forgiven,” the Teacher continued. “Her great debt to sin has been forgiven and she is repaying me with her sincere gratitude.”

            “You,” the Teacher said to his contemptuous host, “You have offered me no such gratitude. My welcome into this home was filled with false pretense and suspicion. And look now. You are so quick judge this woman when she has come for forgiveness and redemption. And yet, you have no clue how your very sins have not only contributed to her misery, but blackened your soul to God’s love.” The Leader sat in angry silence as the Teacher’s words penetrated his cold and unforgiving heart.

            This loose paraphrase of Luke 7:36-50 vividly reminds us that when we are quick to judge, it is perhaps our own hearts that are the most at risk for God’s judgment! 

Divine Memories

It had taken longer to get there than we had imagined since the first military checkpoint had denied our entry. The bus driver said that he believed a more obscure checkpoint a few miles to the south would be more likely to let us through. As we lumbered along a deteriorated road I can remember imagining the many travelers who ventured to this region in the Judean hills so many years ago. Thankfully, the bus driver was right. We got our clearance, but not without a moment of angst as the soldier boarded the bus, his automatic weapon at the ready, and looked us over before granting passage. Our tour guide, however, was cautioned to remain with the soldiers so we continued into town without her.

The image was nothing new. Since arriving in the Holy Land, the presence of heavily armed security forces had become commonplace. The bus driver told me that since our tour guide was Israeli; the soldiers thought it was best she stayed out but that he thought the whole thing was basically stupid. “She’s perfectly safe,” he said while subtly laughing and disgustingly shaking his head. “It’s all political! A question of who’s going to be in control and they want us to know it. That’s all.”

As we pulled up in front of the ancient church, a young priest came out to meet us. His welcoming smile was a comforting blessing amid the tensions of arriving to this beleaguered city.

Entering the church was an odd experience. The small door, known as “The Door of Humility” is so small that everyone has to bow in order to enter this church. Yet even its presence is a reminder of the violent history of the region for one can see the outline of the original entrance in the wall around the door. Hundreds of years ago, the magnificent entry way was reduced to a small door to prevent looters from stealing the sacred objects from the church.

As we walked through the vast expanse of the sanctuary the light from high windows cast beams of colored light across the dusty space, giving it a strangely angelic look and the marble stone walls of this ancient hall echoed with the sounds of our footsteps. I remember a sense of awe in recognizing that this ancient church has stood for 1,480 years!

Our guide led us up to the side of the altar at the front of the church and through a door that led down a stone staircase into the sacred cave that lies below the ancient floor of this magnificent building.

The damp, musky feel of a cave permeated the atmosphere, but it was clear we were in no ordinary cave. The walls were adorned with magnificent Persian rugs and the whole place was trimmed with beautiful hanging lamps, ornate religious icons, and rich tapestries.

To the right, as we entered the sacred underground chamber, was a small alcove, only a few feet high, it looked somewhat like a fireplace except for the brilliant 14-pointed silver star inlaid in marble on the floor. I had seen the image before and was amazed that I was now gazing upon it with my own eyes.

In this small, secluded alcove in a natural cave that ancient residents used to house their animals, the star marked the spot where Christianity believes Jesus Christ was born.

We stood in silence until someone in our group started singing. “O Little Town of Bethlehem …”

In the peace of that underground chamber, suddenly it all made sense. God enters into the most contentious and stressful places of our lives to meet us as Jesus Christ.

September 11 .... Ten Years After

            The phone rang, jostling me out of bed on a morning when I was already oversleeping. My Mother’s panicked voice on the other end was my first awareness that something horrible was happening. “An airplane has hit the World Trade Center,” she said. At first, I assumed it was a minor freak accident. As we now know, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

            Minutes later, I had the TV on and watched in horror as the second plane smashed into the WTC tower and I knew the world changed forever.

            The rest of that morning was a frenzy of activity as I rushed to get to start my day while listening to NPR for the continued information of the deadly attack.  I was hanging on every word and praying for some degree of meaning, purpose, and understanding amid the chaos and confusion permeating lower Manhattan. Soon, however, my attention was pulled in different directions

            As I was leaving the house, local talk radio station called me into the stuido for a live interview about the unfolding scene in New York. Now, news reports were also coming in that the Penteagon was also a target and speculations the White House would be next were already circulating. Clearly, the whole nation was in shock and disbelief and the initial speculation was clear that Muslim terrorists may be the blame. Since I had done extensive study on Middle Eastern affairs and had personal relationships with Middle Eastern Arabs, the radio host wanted my professional commentary on the unfolding events.

            As I was concluding my radio remarks, the hospital called and requested my services to attend the tragic death of a child in the emergency room and comfort the grieving family. As I was arriving at the hospital parking lot, I listened horrifically to the live reports of the first tower collapsing. While I was praying with the grieving mother in the emergency room, an Emergency Room staff shouted out, “The second tower collapsed.” The world was truly changed. 

            It would be days before my beleaguered spirit came to terms with the catastrophe of that day. Without exception, it was a morning that has altered history forever.

            Yet, the way we choose to remember that tragic day will also impact history—for the positive or negative—depending on how we choose to remember.

            Amid the catastrophic human casualties that September morning ten years ago were peace, love, and authentic religious faith.

            As fear, hatred, and anger took over in the wake of the horrific 9-11 attacks, the terrorists won new victories. Likewise, as these destructive and dehumanizing emotions fueled the post 9-11 rage, both Christianity and Islam—religions that in their authenticity stand for peace—were largely usurped with by a religiosity of retaliation, intolerance, violence and fear.

            Now, nearly ten years later, not much has changed. Muslims continue to suffer unjust and inappropriate discrimination at the hands of professed Christians. Hatred and mistrust continue to prevent faithful dialogue, and efforts to seek peace, healing, and restoration. War rages on in Iraq and Afghanistan and innocent lives perish daily amid the violence and veracious human indignity of incivility and hate.

            Perhaps the most Christian way to remember the 10 year anniversary of September 11 is to commit ourselves to prayer, peace, understanding, and overcoming the evil of this world with the love God has for all, including those who we do not like or clearly understand— and yes, even those who truly hate us!

            These are challenging words that are frequently challenged under the self-protectionist guise of practicality and rationalizations of justified hatred. Yet, in ten years, what has such hatred gained us? A costly decade of warfare that significantly contributed to the collapse of the global economy? The untimely deaths of thousands of American soldiers?  A political system bitterly divided—dare I say hopelessly crippled in partisan rancor? Unrelenting hostility between Muslims and Christians?

            Honestly, I fear that the ongoing hatred, hostility, warfare, violence, and bitter distrust that has permeated our post 9-11 world has done more to fester the bitter wounds of that September morning and have prevented genuine, Godly healing! Perhaps our anniversary remembrances this year can change that.

            9-11 changed the world, but it need not change how the Gospel calls us to respond to the world. Perhaps, as we remember in the days to come, we can make it our focus to remember God’s priority for peace, reconciliation, and forgiveness. Then, on the 20^th anniversary of this tragic moment in human history, we will have proven that peace and love truly are the means to healing.