I was working out at the gym the other week and happened to see a conversation on ESPN that fascinated me. Three sports' journalists were discussing the recent (very recent at that moment) death of longtime Penn State football coach Joe Paterno. One theme dominated their spirited and lengthy conversation - How should Joe Paterno be remembered? What should his legacy be? The debate was mildly interesting. But what really grabbed my attention was the simple fact that they, and so many others around the country, were having that discussion and had framed the question this way. By now most of us have heard of, and may have even forgotten already, the child sexual abuse scandal at Penn State. If you are unclear on the details here is a summary: link. Joe Paterno, the beloved coach and mentor, icon of football and grand vizier of Penn State was fired in the fall. He was fired for doing the bare minimum in reporting the horrific allegations brought forth against Jerry Sandusky. 

The journalists were wrestling with difficult issues - what were the ethical demands of the situation? Did Joe Paterno do what was legally necessary?  But the deeper question they were touching on was this:  How do we measure and judge the legacy of a human being? Now you can see why I found this topic so important. It is a question we all ask, should ask and must ask at various times in our lives as we evaluate people's actions - and not just other people's, but our own.

The problem set before them was, should Joe Paterno's legacy be defined by decades of quality coaching or by one possibly weak response to an issue of justice? One of the reporters seemed reluctant to tear down all of Paterno's accomplishments because of his failure to take more definitive action. One of them was adamant that this proved that the man was not the lord of Happy Valley that many made him out to be. My goal is actually not to claim to have the definitive view on this, though my opinions will be fairly clear. I am not going to try to be comprehensive or to present sympathies with all sides of the arguments. My primary goal is to point out several things about legacy and ethics that we should learn from this discussion. Specifically, I have observed 3 related instincts that surfaced during the societal discussion, instincts that I am glad we still show as human beings.

Instinct for ethics:  The fact that we would have this discussion at all as a society demonstrates that deep down we have strong priorities. We worship sports in our culture and the people in them. But something deeper surfaces when a story like this occurs. Suddenly the life work of a man and his sport can seem very insignificant when placed next to something of true consequence. I love Sport and think there is a great deal of value to it. But isn't it striking that decades of being good at a game do not amount to much if you have possibly failed at the most important things? We do this all the time on a much smaller scale - we risk the legacy of truly meaningful things in order to chase after things that may or may not have significance. This is as true for a pastor or stock broker as it is for a football coach. This does not diminish the importance of work and even play in human life, but it does tell us that human nature does not evaluate all decisions equally. Whether you were good at calling blitzes, in the end, pales when compared to such an issue of justice, to that one moment when faced with a decision of dire consequence.

Enough isn't enough:  When it comes the the weighty significance of those moral decisions we face, enough is not enough. I have heard a few people say that Paterno was unfairly treated because he did what was necessary, but these folks are in the vast minority. Again, our instincts about legacy tell us that men and women are not remembered well for the times when they did just enough to get by. The great men and women (in Christianity - the servants) are remembered well for going above and beyond the circumstances that threatened them. It bothers us that Paterno did 'just enough' or 'only what was required.' Laws are, of course, related to morality. But deep, robust ethical actions always go above and beyond the mere laws of the land. Occasionally they even break the laws of the land in order to pursue a higher law. Enough isn't enough. We yearn for a higher morality in our heroes.

Speaking of Heroes...:  Our truest heroes are still the ones whom we want to admire. We may sympathize with the moral decision of Paterno - we cannot easily judge that we would have done better in his shoes. But we wish we would have. And this says a lot about our natural sense of ethics. We may admire him for many things and we may sympathize with his decision in this case. But most do not admire his decision. We don't strive to emulate him in that moment. Admiration is another level all together. Even in our hollywood and sports idol culture we still yearn for and demand 'real' heroes to follow, people who demonstate courage and boldness in the face of life's biggest questions and opportunities. In this sense, I hope we continue to look beyond Joe Paterno for other people who can give us a legacy of courage to live up to. 

I want to be the first this year to wish you:

"More than a Merry Christmas!" Or maybe "May your Holidays Be Soul-piercing!" Or "Have a Throne-Crushing Christmas!" Or "Epic Christmas to All!"

A few days ago I was discussing our church's Live Nativity with other church leaders. Every year we put on a nice performance that tells part of the Christmas story and is infused with familiar Christmas hymns and songs. We spend the month leading up to the Nativity recruiting folks to dress up as wise men, an angel, shepherds, Mary and Joseph. We always come to a point when we look at our sign-up sheet and see what spots we still need to fill. This year someone said, "we still need an angel for Sunday night." The conversation then turned to naming the people who might be available to do this. Inwardly, I began to find it very humorous. The only people we brainstormed as qualified candidates were...teenage girls. That may not seem funny to you, but in that moment I was suddenly tempted to start suggesting large, middle-aged men. I eventually shared this and someone else caught the humor and added, "yeah, maybe someone with a beard." 

That image makes me laugh every time I think of it. I love the absurdity of an imposing figure booming out in a commanding voice over the quiet manger scene, his tiny, feathered wings shaking on his back and his golden, bedazzled halo swaying on his head.

But why does this seem absurd?

Our idea of the Christmas story is shaped by many things. Perhpas no image shapes our imaginations more than classic nativity scenes, complete with shepherds, stable, cute animals and an angel that usually, more or less, looks like a teenage girl. But when I read the story in the Bible it seems no more absurd to imagine a bearded angel than a teenage girl - it's just that we are used to the latter. Our perception is the result of decades of decisions dictated by our culture. We're so strongly conditioned to it, in fact, that the thought of a man-angel with facial hair makes us giggle or even makes us uncomfortable. 

That is why returning to scripture for the birth stories is so essential - to be shaken out of our culturally shaped slumber. Of the approximately 150 verses that comprise Jesus' birth stories there are about 3 (or 2) that are directly about this one moment we try to freeze in time every year. In the Bible the birth itself is almost an afterthought compared to the incredible angel visitations, songs of praise and dangerous conditions that sweep in and out of the story before and after Jesus' birth. And nativities don't even really portray that moment; they portray a conflation of several pieces of the narrative. Nativities have always served a purpose: to teach the elements of the Christmas story in a single image. We speed up the time frame and combine different parts in order to reach this memorable picture. We can recall so much of the tale because we know there are wise men and shepherds and a poor mother and father.  Nativities, therefore, have purpose. But that purpose is limited.

The birth story in the Bible is full of twists and turns with crushing moral decisions, narrow escapes from bloodthirsty tyrants and suprising prophesies of a world turned upside down. Our society's version of the nativity is staggeringly ironic because it attempts to instill us with peace. Yet one of the central themes of the Bible stories is that, though the world may look the same on the outside, God is rending the heavens and reshaping history and is coming down to us. It is actually quite difficult to read peace into the stories. Several characters recognize this - Joseph receives disturbing visions and warnings to escape and flee as a refugee to Egypt. Mary sings of a radically changed world where rulers are brought down and the humble are lifted. Zechariah ('who is that?" We ask.) proclaims that the rising sun will come from heaven and shine on those living in the darkness of death. And a random man named Simeon holds the baby Jesus in God's temple, leans over to Mary and whispers an ambivalent portent, "This child will cause the rise and fall of many...and a sword will pierce your own soul, too." These are strange and even frightening events for those who live them. The tranquility of the nativity scene is not necessarily wrong. But it is incomplete. The stories surrounding Jesus' birth are epic and full of danger and mystery and the promise of the rising and falling of kingdoms and souls.

The drama of the universe, the struggles of humankind, the redemption of the world have all converged on one tiny, quiet moment. God is enacting an ultimate plan. The vast sweeps of history and time rush through the earth. Yet, as C.S. Lewis said, "The whole thing narrows and narrows, until at last it comes down to a little point, small as the point of a spear - a Jewish girl at her prayers."  May you not only feel the peace of Christmastime, but the excitement, too. May you be overwhelmed as Mary, Joseph and others were at the mysterious and risky nature of God's unfolding plan. May you revisit the birth stories this year and hear them as for the first time. And, as you hear them, may you hear, pulsing beneath the lull of hymns and the soothing firelight of the manger, the rumblings that signal that God is turning the world inside out to rescue the ones he loves. 

In other words, I hope your Christmas is more than 'merry.' May it be filled with visions and dreams and the possibility of bearded angels.

The Christmas season is here. Think of all the images and events this season brings to your mind. These few weeks leading up to Christmas are about preparing for family events, wishing for soft snow and dancing to familiar holiday songs on the radio while hanging greenery in our homes. This time is about eating wonderful food with other people, finding just the right gifts for loved ones and celebrating the joy of tradition with nativities and fragrant Christmas trees. And, of course, it is about realizing our desperate need and deepest longing for the redemption and restoration of our depraved and tragic lives and world.

Were you with me until that last one? In Christian tradition the word 'advent' describes the weeks leading up to Christmas day. Traditionally, they have been not just a time of celebration, but also of reflection on our human condition - namely, our need for a savior. The word 'advent' means 'coming'. It is all about longing and anticipation. But don't make the mistake at this point of assuming that longing is such a bad thing. Longing can lead us to despair. But it can also lead us to our truest hope. The difference is where we place our faith.

Advent is the great recognition that God sent his Son into the world while it was still a mess. It is also a time to remember that, even though christians know where to place their hope - in Jesus Christ - that hope is still yet to be fulfilled. So we not only remember with anticipation the great story of Christ's coming, but of Christ's coming again. While we do reflect on our need for God - the brokeness of the world, the unfulfilled longings in our hearts, the mistakes and sins we commit - we also reflect on how God has and will fulfill that need. The christian meaning of this season is the anticipation of salvation. The celebration of redemption comes out of our experiences of the darkness into which God has and will come again to shine his light.

I still have not come across a better display of this than a video that my friends made for a seminary course. Take a quiet moment to watch the whole thing. May you see that our greatest hope is not born out of the moments when we dance around the Christmas tree to Jingle Bell Rock. It is born in the moments when, surrounded by deepest darkness, we hear the whisper of a longed for voice - be ready, O sleeper, for though night surrounds us now, it is nearly time for the dawn.

We often misunderstand something about the Christian faith - it is sometimes more like a Caravaggio and less like a Baroque.

Wait. What?

Maybe when you have read about the miracles in the Bible you have had this reaction: if only I could see something like that happen, then I would have (more) faith. Have you ever thought that before? I have. We wish for something more, for some more concrete certainty that will banish the doubt from our minds. If you are not sure what I mean or do not think that this happens to most of us, think of it this way. Have you ever said to yourself, if only  _______  would happen, then I would be happy?  But is this ever really true? Could one thing make the difference between true joy and discontentedness? Almost never. Yet we often live with this view of happiness, thinking that if there were just one more thing in our favor, then we'd be happy. And we often live with a similar outlook on faith. We have this all backwards.

Did you ever think about how many people must have witnessed Jesus' ministry? This would include not only his teaching, but also his public miracles. Yet so many of them walked away from him, were skeptical of him or even worked to kill him. We can only come to one of 3 conclusions about his miracles -  1) The miracles told of in the Bible did not happen. This means that all those who did believe in him and those who wrote about him were delusional.  2) Those who rejected Jesus saw the miracles, but did not perceive any significance in them unless it was to confirm their suspicion of him.  3) The miracles did happen, but faith is required to believe in their meaning - even when they were witnessed firsthand.

This is why if only I could see that happen, then I would believe is tragically backward. Jesus told his listeners in so many words (see John chapter 10 for example) that seeing miracles and wonders is not enough to create faith. Rather it is faith that creates the possibility of seeing miracles for what they are - signs. Signs must be read a certain way and they always point to something other than themselves. Jesus' miracles were not just to instill faith in people - in fact they seemed to instill faith very inconsistently. His miracles were to demonstrate who Jesus is. The types of signs he performed confirmed his mercy, power and harmony with the hopeful visions of the prophets. His miracles also demonstrated the nature of the Kingdom of God. Most of all, they pointed to the fact that he was who he said he was, the Son of the living God. But none of that can be seen simply by being impressed with some kind of marvel. It is understood through eyes of faith.

On the radio yesterday I heard part of an interview with Andrew Graham-Dixon. No, I had never heard of him either. He has just completed a biography about the renowned painter Caravaggio (16th and 17th centuries). You can listen to the interview or read the transcript of it here. A caller asked him if she were right that Caravaggio's works reveal that he had religious 'doubt'. She pointed to the way he paints Christ and saints as very human. He doesn't paint them 'emanating any divine sense', she said. Graham-Dixon's response was amazing. He said, " In a Baroque painting [the style that Caravaggio inherited but from which he broke away], if a miracle takes place, a fricassee of angels will appear stage left, possibly carrying the Madonna aloft in their arms. Caravaggio does not paint miracles like that. But I think you'd be wrong to think that he doesn't paint miracles at all." In my view it is not that the Baroque painters were wrong. They often were trying to paint spiritual realities into a scene, not paint a scene exactly as it would have looked to physical eye. But Caravaggio captured something that is possibly even more true. Graham-Dixon illustrates this by describing a painting to the caller. To get the full effect of what he says first read the Bible story in Luke 24:13-32. Then look at the painting here. 

I am not suggesting that miracles do not happen with heavenly choirs and flahses of stars. I believe they sometimes do. But rarely can a miracle increase or secure our faith. Instead, it is faith that gives us eyes to see the miraculous for what it is. Sometimes we find God not in choirs of angels or blazes of light, but in shadows.

This month's Christianity Today magazine arrived today and as I skimmed through it I came across an article with a fabulous titile:

"Intercultural Fiesta Fail"

The article is not online yet, but will be shortly, I would think. The article has some excellent points and one statement stands out particularly. Leslie Fields writes, "We are one in Christ not because we are one and the same, but because Christ is the same." This is the testimony of the New Testament writers. Paul writes frequently and beautifully about the unity that Christians have (1 Corinthians 12, Philippians 2, Ephesians 2, and Galatians 3 to name a few). But Fields' article reminds me to ask the question, "From where does this unity come?" Too often we believe that it comes from sameness. But unity and sameness are distinct concepts in the Christian life. We have unity not because we look, talk, act or share history or culture with someone. We have unity because there is "one Lord, one faith, one baptism" (Ephesians 4:5). This point should not be overlooked because our tendency is to search for only a superficial unity which can be found in ourselves. But Paul has better news.

The better news is that unity is found outside of ourselves - in Christ who unites us. When we talk about crossing racial, cultural and economic lines it is encouraging to know that there is something beyond us ("above all" Eph. 4:6) that can bring us together, something with power greater than our own. But 'better' news doesn't mean 'easier' news. For just expecting people to mold into copies of ourselves is the easy way out. But even Paul emphasizes later in Ephesians 4 that there are diverse gifts that God gives his people. It is hard work to get past superficial displays of unity into the true and messy relationships of Christian unity. The really good news is that those diverse gifts should all work to bring the Church into "unity of faith" (Eph. 4:13). Our diverse gifts and backgrounds can all work together to serve the same Lord.

One of the reasons this is a difficult lesson for many of us is because many (not all) of us reading this come from culture where we do not reflect very much on our culture. In fact, many white Americans do not feel that they really have a culture. I spoke recently with someone from my churchabout a time when he was given a packet of materials from the company he worked for. The information outlined essential things that business people needed to understand when they worked with their business partner in other countries. He said the learning was fascnating. But the most incredible part was the section about the United States. How strange to see your own country's quirks and nuances on display like that!

This kind of reflection has powerful value when we approach cross-cultural relationships. We need to know where we come from first. We face many dangers when we do not know ourselves and are simply not as effective. In other words, you need to know yourself in order to know deeply others who are different. What is your cultural inheritance? What values were you raised with? What we must not do is demand a false sameness in our relationships. We also must not claim that we do not have a cultural perspective of our own. Instead we must work for a deep unity that comes from above ourselves and know ourselves. How do you know yourself? That is another huge topic. Suffice it to say for now that as John Calvin taught, we know ourselves best when we strive to know our God.

One of the reasons this article jumped out at me was the timing of it. This Sunday, our Urban Entry class will be discussing these very things at 10:00am in the Front Street conference room. Email me if you have questions or would like to join us  dan@thepresby.org.