Easter Vigil - TONIGHT is THE night!

 Tonight is THE night!

Tonight is the night!

It is a chorus we hear echoed throughout the Easter Vigil,

And Easter Vigil is a special service indeed.

It is rare we get an opportunity to share in this kind of a service.

It’s an ancient rite that can be traced back to the earliest generations of the church.

It’s a service that took place at night and in darkness,

Not only for the symbolism that surrounds it,

But because many from the early church worshipped in secret.

It is a service that takes place as darkness closes in outside, and the light from within brightens.

It is a service that reminds us that death still lurks outside the door,

But in the promise of an empty tomb, we no longer fear that death.

In fact, we celebrate the promise in the face of death and darkness.

That is the beauty of the Easter Vigil,

Death closes in on Good Friday,

And we come back to find death still lingers, yet life has escaped its clutch,

And that light and life grows and grows in spite of death and darkness.

Therein lies the beauty of the Easter Vigil.

Yet I am sure many of us have never experienced it,

and even tonight our version is much abbreviated.

Traditionally it would last into the very early hours of the morning.

Having just come home from our deployment,

I wouldn’t have entertained this service at all

If not for C, and our experience in Norway together.

I won’t speak for C,

But I’ve never been North of the arctic circle.

Upon our arrival, we didn’t see much of the sun for the first month.

Even when daylight broke through the darkness, the sun rarely breached the mountain tops.

And even when it did, it was often so cold we would often escape to the warmth of a tent or a stove

Forsaking the light, for the sake of the warmth we found in the darkness.

And while it was a beautiful country, the dark and the cold was a constant reminder

That even in the midst of a training mission, we faced some very real risks.

Whether it was rewarming our bodies after plunging through the ice of a frozen lake,

Starting a fire with our hands exposed to the cold for the sake of handling matches and kindling,

Or melting snow and drying clothes by the fire to ensure we were managing liquid inside and outside of our bodies,

There was a threat around us at all times.

I believe we became accustomed to it.

As the days went by, we became more and more comfortable being in the midst of the harsh environment,

And we came to enjoy the unique nature of that land, the climate, the country, and the culture that surrounded us.

But we weren’t just surrounded by the cold and darkness of the weather while we were there,

Ironically, Lent began shortly after we’d arrived.

I marked many with an ash cross upon their foreheads, symbolizing our mortality and the promise of our baptisms,

I used the same bowl to hold the ash that I used to baptize you tonight, Caleb.

Another reminder of the connection between the life we are promised, and death, which still lingers amongst us all.

So, when C came to me to ask if he could be baptized, it broke my heart to inform him I could not.

You see, we don’t traditionally baptize anyone during lent.

We don’t do weddings either,

Because it is a season of penitential reflection.

But tonight,

Well… TONIGHT is the night!

And I truly love Easter Vigil, and I couldn’t think of a more appropriate time or way to celebrate C’s baptism,

And most of all the promise we find in that empty tomb!

Because as we gather here together around a fire,

We do it in defiance of the darkness that gathers.

We come into a church, darkened like a morgue,

Because that is exactly what the church was, is, and always will be.

It is the site of his death and burial, and it is upon his tomb we build the altar and celebrate that promise.

From the church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, to a snowmobile sled in Norway, to here and now; TONIGHT.

We gather in defiance of the darkness and death outside,

We taunt death and darkness as we bury our brother in Christ; C.

In the water, three times, just as Christ was buried for three days,

We eat of his body and blood, and then after we have revived this place from the death that has haunted it

-from the floorboards to the rafters-

We will receive the blessing of our Lord, and we will walk out into that darkness,

Carrying the light with us into that dark world.

THAT sisters and brothers, is the promise of THIS night!

In the book and the film, The Road, by Cormac McCarthy

There are many horrible and disturbing scenes throughout the post-apocalyptic tale.

Cormac McCarthy was well known for the dark brutality of his stories,

But much of his storytelling loses sight of the beauty and light in the midst of his dark narratives.

One of the most beautiful examples was in that story; The Road.

At the ending of the story, the two protagonists; a father and son

Have said goodbye to one another, as the father breathes his last words of advice to his son,

In hopes his son can survive in the brutal post-apocalyptic world alone without his father’s protection.

Having been stalked and hunted by other groups trying to survive by preying on others,

the boy takes his father’s pistol and prepares to continue on the road.

At that moment, another survivor approaches the boy who points his father’s gun at the man’s chest.

Upon learning that the lifeless man at the boy’s feet was his father, the man tells the boy

“Maybe you should come with me?”

The boy points the pistol and asks “Are you one of the good guys?”

“Yeah, I’m one of the good guys, now why don’t you put that pistol away?” replies the man

After discussing the boys options, the boy again asks “How do I know you’re one of the good guys?”

To which the man honestly replies “You don’t, you’ll just have to take a shot.”

The boys continues to inquire about the man’s family, and what things he has or hasn’t done to survive in that harsh world, but his final question for the man is ironic and simple;

He asks, “Are you carrying the fire?”

“Am I what?” comes the man’s reply

“Carrying the fire” the boy repeats

“You’re kinda weirded out aren’t ya kid?” says the man

“Well, are you?” cautions the boy as he raises the pistol again

“Yeah, I’m carrying the fire” assures the man

“And I can come with you?” asks the boy

“Yes you can.” Replies the man as the story concludes

Tonight, we lit a new fire,

At the entrance of the sanctuary,

In the Paschal Candle that was lit from that fire,

In the hands of each and every one of you,

In your hearts as the words were read from our ancient stories of salvation,

In C as he took his place among all the saints in the church triumphant,

In this meal we are about to share,

And I hope and pray that TONIGHT, this very night,

We all,

Each and every one of us take at least a very small ember of that fire,

If not a blazing torch,

Out into the darkness of this world in defiance of the sin and death we have not yet fully escaped.

Reassuring others that we are carrying the fire.

A fire ignited on a cross,

A fire that we have lit together once again on this most holy of nights,

Just as Christ’s Church has done for over 2000 years.

Amen

Sources: 

McCarthy, Cormac. The Road. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2006.

Disclaimer: My thoughts are my own and do not represent the Department of Defense, US Navy, USMC, or the Navy Chaplain Corps. 

Convicted: A reflection on the film Top Gun Maverick

 

“Here I am; send me!” Isaiah 6:8

There are plenty of critiques of Top Gun, Top Gun Maverick, and of course; Tom Cruise out there. My intention here is not to critique any of the above, but to draw some attention to some themes in the movie that I found to be powerful nods to survivor’s guilt. For starters, my kids wanted to see the film, but I wouldn’t permit them to see it until they saw the first one (yeah, I fast forwarded through a few scenes, and discouraged them from ever “flipping the bird”). It was imperative for them to understand the relationship between Maverick and Goose, particularly Goose’s family. Having grown up on the film -as a child of the 80’s- it was the initial inspirational nudge that planted the seed of military service. The earlier film seemed to lack a bit of emotional authenticity in my eyes, but in the later film; Top Gun Maverick, it picked up the theme as a literary device. Captain Mitchell, although years removed from the incident, still carries the guilt of LT Bradshaw’s (Goose) death. During both films it is reiterated time and again, that the death of his friend is in no way his responsibility. All logic and reason proves this to be a fact, yet it is a fact that Mitchell cannot accept for himself, even if he knows it to be true. 

So herein lies the tragedy of survivor’s guilt. Many of the Marines I served with in 2005 still harbor a range of combat related challenges; post traumatic stress, moral injury, and survivors guilt. To explore those other issues would take more time than I would like to hash out here, but  they are all very unique, and have a tendency to bleed into one another. The consistent theme for those of us who carry the guilt of our survival, is often tied to the missed opportunity to have taken the slightest detour from our actions on that particular day. Without going into details, I am one of those. I have carried the guilt of the death of one particular Marine with me since 2005. I confessed where I had gone wrong up and down the chain of command, to which I was always told that I could not logically draw a direct conclusion that I carried the sole responsibility for his death. Regardless, I still carry it today, and I am fairly certain I will carry it with me to my grave. That sense of guilt has fueled many of the paths I have taken in my life. I left the Marine Corps, and another vocation as a police officer to pursue ministry, which in turn led me to the United States Navy Chaplain Corps. This call and vocation was strikingly odd to many of my fellow Marines, not to mention police I served alongside. I wasn’t their stereotypical “holy roller,” although my faith life was always a big part of who I was.  

Ever since coming back to the military, I have often publicly declared an additional vow taken on, one outside of the oath we take, and the vows of my ordination. I vowed to God and myself when I came back to the military, that I would care for every single Sailor and Marine in my care, to the very best of my ability. I vowed I would care for them the way I would want my own children cared for, if they ever put on this uniform. I have been told this is an issue of maintaining personal boundaries, and that it is unhealthy to bring such things home. I have also been told that it is unsustainable, yet I have continued to pursue my call in this manner, because my personal convictions will not allow me to function in any other way. 

So, this leads us back to the film, and three particularly powerful scenes for me. They are also scenes that I think others may relate to, and for others still who have loved ones who’ve suffered the same, it may shed some light. After Maverick’s credit card is declined, he is humiliatingly thrown out of the bar. Yet, as he picks himself up from the sand and begins to walk away -laughing off his shame- he hears the familiar rendition of “Great Balls of Fire” being played by his old friend’s son; the new LT Bradshaw “Rooster.” I cannot watch the scene without the painful lump in my throat rising up. Whether it is a song, a sound, a sight, or a voice, these are things that impact many of us. Whether you like Tom Cruise or not, his gaze in this scene -along with his expulsion from the bar and the gathering of pilots- captures the reality for so many. There are few moments more isolating than the feeling that no one else can even begin to comprehend the immense tension between being drawn to that pain, yet simultaneously wanting to run from it. In the moment I saw that scene, I saw myself in a grocery store on many occasions, caught off guard by a song, or someone who looks eerily similar to one of our fallen. There are few moments as lonely as that. 

“It’s the only look I’ve got.” -Maverick

There is a flip side to all this, however. Cruise, and the writers also captured that moment as well, whether intentional or not. They capture the vow that I spoke of, because throughout the film, Maverick demands that the command look at the young pilots as more than cannon fodder, he demands they be valued as he sees them; someone’s children, just as he cannot see Rooster in any other way. When he sees Rooster, he still sees the little boy sitting on top of the piano as his father and Maverick jovially sang and played. 

On my first deployment as a Chaplain, I reassured my wife that there was nothing to worry about, after all, “I’m just a Chaplain.” I will never make that mistake again. The night before I left, I took my family to the beach for one last night together. I remember saying my goodbyes, and I remember telling my children I would care for my service members the way I would want them cared for. Most of all, I remember the support of my wife. 

After Maverick is named team leader of the movies climactic mission, a role he was never intended to take on, he goes to the same bar he was kicked out of, to say goodbye to his new love interest; Penny Benjamin. Now, let me be clear, I hate the Navy whites (both summer whites and the chokers) because I find them to be the most impractical uniforms imaginable, but this scene captures a distinct moment. My Penny Benjamin, who is not only gracious enough to be my wife, but one of my biggest motivators, always reminds me to never lose sight of why I do what I do. While on my last deployment, something terrible happened, and it was my sincere fear when I called my wife that she would demand I leave that location immediately. There were ways I could leave, and although I didn’t want to, I also couldn’t lie to my wife. After confessing I was in the location she had seen in the news, she asked if I was going to stay. Upon giving my answer, I feared her retort, yet with tears in her voice she reassured me “I knew you would. That is why you are there. It is why God has put you where you are, so take care of them.”

Upon leaving Penny on the beach with a long embrace, the music carries over into the next scene as a carrier slices through waves. Maverick stands below deck, looking out across the ocean, asking for Goose to find a way to guide him; “Talk to me Goose.” This scene is the nail in my coffin, because it speaks to where I find myself in this call. I am a pastor, with extensive education and experience, put in a role to lead and care for Sailors and Marines because of that “expertise,” yet this scene encapsulates my own dependence on so many others. Rear Admiral Solomon “Warlock” Bates, is a character that I believe tragically escapes the attention of most movie goers. He doesn’t have many lines, but in this scene Warlock seems to speak for Goose, as he calls to Maverick from outside of view. “Captain Mitchell” he exclaims, as Maverick turns around and the two stand face to face. “This is where you belong” Warlock confidently assures Maverick. Not instructing pilots on North Island off the coast of Southern California, or holed up in a hangar in the Mojave desert. 

I am blessed to have had so many amazing “Warlocks” in my still short career as a Chaplain. My previous Command Master Chief, my senior mentor, my junior mentor, numerous colleagues, friends, and service members I have served beside. In this scene I have seen them all, not suggesting, but reminding me of my vow, my conviction. I long for another deployment, because that is where I belong. I don’t long to be away from my wife and children, but I am convicted to care for those who stand on that line because of what they have shown me, in their love and support. 

What I have concluded from all the reflections in this movie, is that survivors guilt does not have to be an impediment, but a reminder of the gift of this life, and the responsibility we have to use it as the gift it is. Not a day goes by I don’t wrestle with the guilt of those deaths, but not a day goes by that it doesn’t remind me of why I am here, and that fact that this is “Where you belong.”

I’ve never done this before, but I would like to dedicate this entire rant to my mentors, my all time CMC (you’ll always be MY CMC), and my wife. You are the ones who’ve always pushed me to follow the courage of my convictions, and you’ve pushed harder than ever these past few months. You’re all the voices that I hear when I lift up my eyes to the heavens and proclaim “Talk to me, Goose.”

Disclaimer: My thoughts are my own and do not represent the Department of Defense, US Navy, USMC, or the Navy Chaplain Corps. 

References

Kosinski, Joseph. 2020. Top Gun: Maverick. United States: Paramount Pictures.

My Little Corner of The Vineyard

 Luke 13:1-9

Vårnatt i hagen, by Nikolai Astrup 1909 (PD)

At that very time there were some present who told him about the Ukrainians whose blood Putin had mingled with the ruins of their capital city. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Ukrainians suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all the other Ukrainians?”“Or those ten who were killed while waiting in line for bread, by indiscriminate artillery fire – do you think they were worse offenders than all the others living in this world?”

I rarely prime the pump for a sermon this way, but after this past week, I wasn’t sure how I couldn’t. It’s too close to home, or maybe it just isn’t close enough? If the mothers of those whose blood had been shed this past week were our neighbors – rather than distant figures only seen from our living rooms thousands of miles away – what would we tell them? When they ask us why this has befallen them, their nation, and their children?

Because sisters and brothers; This WAS NOT according to God’s plan! This did not happen for a reason! This is not God’s will, And it isn’t an “ACT of God!” There is no good “why” for this travesty that has befallen the people of Ukraine. 

This is the very question that the people are asking Jesus in the Gospel today. They are asking for sound reason as to why tragedy, and horror befall some people. They don’t want to just know why it befalls others, but they want assurance that their righteousness will protect them. Because they want to know that God will repay their righteousness with God’s protection.  Almost as if God is some sort of mafia Don, that deals in the currency of righteousness. 

Its ironic, and it is why the response evoked is so uncomfortable, 

For the crowd in the story, 

For Luke’s audience, 

And for us as well. ~

Luke’s audience was made up of Gentiles, Many of whom were accustomed to making sacrifices in exchange for certain favors. Many had converted from cultic traditions, which had a rolodex of deities. If you needed a healthy harvest, you made sacrifices to a god that took care of crops. If you needed victory in battle, you made a sacrifice to Mars, And if you needed a good batch of wine from this years crop of grapes, you made a sacrifice to Bacchus. For love, Venus. A sea voyage, Neptune, And so on, and so forth. 

So, for Luke’s audience any relationship with a deity is dependent on its transactional value. It’s actually quite a pagan tradition, one that has very sadly bled into our own faith quite often. We aren’t much different from Jesus’ audience, When we do good, we want to know what’s in it for us. We want to be certain, that we will not only be rewarded, but protected. So when we see travesty befall another, we justify the reasoning for such calamity. It isn’t for the comfort of those who suffer, but the one observing such suffering. It is us, seeking the comfort that travesty will not befall us. 

Jesus offers no such certainty, only assuring us of one certainty; life is certainly full of uncertainty. ~

Jesus’ response is a testament to how far we have fallen from how he saw that word; “repentance.” He responds to their inquiry about these tragedies with a word of warning; “No, they were not worse sinners than any other, but I tell you; unless you repent, you will all perish, just as they did.”

Now, if you think my sermon started pretty abruptly, you should ask yourself how Jesus would’ve kicked things off with a reply like that?! It sounds harsh, but it is because we do not fully understand the intention of repentance anymore than Jesus’ audience did then, just as we don’t understand sin. Repentance and sin are pretty loaded words for us Lutherans. Those words conjure up images in our heads of floppy bibles being waved from pulpits by slick haired preachers pointing fingers, But these are not terms meant to evoke fear of condemnation, but a coaxing away from the true plight of sin, turning towards something greater. 

Sin is simply that which separates us, from God, from God’s creation, and from one another. Anything that distracts us from being part of the those relationships which God created us to be part of to begin with. Repentance, or Metanoia, is literally a turning. Turning not only away from sin, but towards something, 

Something greater than us. But that is what makes it so hard, because that turning requires us to turn away from ourselves, putting God, and others before ourselves. ~

Jesus ties it all together today with the parable of the fig tree, an analogy that has been lost over time. He uses the fig tree to illustrate that turning away he is calling for us to model. Because a fig tree is a terrible tree if left to its own devices. Fig trees have a terribly invasive root system, and if left unchecked, the root systems will invade the roots of other trees, killing them by attacking neighboring trees roots below the surface. Those fig trees with the deepest roots have the worst fruit, and destructive root systems – damaging sidewalks, buildings, and barriers. 

It is a lot like sin; self serving, destructive, detrimental to our own growth, and adverse to the production of the good that can be produced. But the farmer in this parable offers a solution; He proposes a technique used to this day, not only digging around the roots, but in Jesus day they would wall in the root system with brick or stone so the roots would only grow downward, not outward. And in order to feed that limited root system, those walls would be filled with rich manure forcing the good nutrients upward and outward, Producing healthy fruit by turning the tree away from it’s own interest, in harmony with the other figs and plants in the vineyard. Because it is with the aid of the gardener we can turn away from ourselves, and exist in harmony with the other that resides in the vineyard. ~

I wish I could refrain from making the connection, but I am convicted by it, Because this past week I have wept as I watched the roots of one invade and strangle another. I’ve watched from across the vineyard, perhaps many of us have. I’ve watched as I have wondered aloud if their roots cannot travel this far. And as I have watched its roots strangle the life out of another, sitting a safe distance away; A whole globe away, I realized how deeply connected I am to that tree struggling to survive the attack of its neighbor.

I watched on Wednesday when President Zelinsky showed a video of the attacks on his country. It was a graphic video, raw and violent. And I have seen the horrors of war, as a Marine, and as a Chaplain, But when I saw the lifeless body of a little girl lifted onto a gurney, and the hysterical weeping of a little boy searching for arms to protect him; I saw my own children. 

Sisters and brothers, that is what God saw, that is what God sees, and that is what God will see, until we finally realize that the vineyard is not as big as we have come to believe. God came to the vineyard once, because we called out to God to deliver this vineyard. So help me God, I believe Christ is still working on that vineyard, But that work came at a price, because that gardener was nailed to one of those trees. The life of the whole vineyard comes at a price, but first we must recognize the value that God holds for the entire vineyard, not just our little corner that feeds our own roots. 

Amen

~

The hymn of the day today is the hymn This Is My Song.

The tune for the hymn is Finlandia, by Jean Sibelius. The music was written in 1899 in response to the Russian policy of Russification, which was intended to abolish cultural identities and administrative autonomy of any non-Russian minorities within the Russian empire.

This policy of forced cultural assimilation was systematically enforced on Finland, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Latvia, Poland, Lithuania, Moldova, and the largest country in Europe today; Ukraine. Sibelius' musical piece was a response to that forced assimilation back at the turn of the 20th century, by a Finnish composer as a covert form of resistance. Finland was a country made up of 98 % Lutherans in that day, with 70 % still claiming to follow the Lutheran tradition there to this day.

Russification is the policy that is still a central motivating factor in Russian foreign policy today.

*This is my personal blog. Thoughts and opinions are my own and are not necessarily those of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the U.S. Navy, Navy Chaplain Corps, or the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.

Pick up YOUR cross.

Isaiah 50:4-9 and Mark 8:27-38

Andrea di Bartolo, Way to Calvary 1400 PD

It has been a pretty odd week. 

In the midst of the normal day in and day out, a significant day was solemnly marked this week. 

I was asked to participate in a command 9/11 ceremony, offering the invocation and benediction. 

That fairly standard task, that all chaplains are asked to do quite frequently took a different toll on me than it would under the normal circumstances. 

I found myself sifting through my own emotions and memories as I attempted to craft a prayer that would hold significance to those of the same faith, those of different faiths, and those with no faith tradition they called their own what-so-ever. 

On top of it all, my children came home from school with questions. 

In contrast to other years, they seemed to be hearing a lot more about September 11^th than they had ever heard before. 

They started to ask questions, like; 

“What is 9/11?”

“What happened on September 11^th?”

And “What is Patriot Day?”

On the eve of the September 11^th Ceremony I was to participate in, I had prepared my uniform and printed out my prayers. 

After reviewing everything carefully my family and I sat down for dinner, and amidst the chatter at the table, my kids began to once again discuss 9/11. 

Their reactions were sometimes more somber than others, sometimes even taking an inappropriate turn. 

They’ve heard us talk about 9/11, and I believe they had an idea about it. 

They have seen pictures, watched videos, and throughout the week we’d seen tributes on the television about it. 

But they still didn’t seem to fully grasp or understand it. 

It’s a foreign concept to me, and I think many of us, who just take it for granted that 9/11 is a scarring memory, etched into our heads and hearts universally. 

With so many junior sailors, officers, and students in this command, I have become increasingly more aware that many who’ve raised their right hands and donned the cloth of our nation don’t even have a memory of that fateful day. 

In conversation about it with my children, and so many others, I have come to realize it is not a day that they can “Never Forget” because they have no memory of it at all. 

More and more over the years I have heard that proclamation; “Never Forget” or “Always Remember” morph from a shared burden we all carry together, to a demand imposed on others. 

If one’s profile picture is not changed on social media, or we do not publicly broadcast our whereabouts on that fateful day, we are somehow opposed to those who do suffer so publicly. 

In light of my own emotions, the events of this week, my children, and the texts for today, it has haunted me how we carry this cross. 

Andrea Booher, 19 SEP 2001 FEMA Photo Library PD

Today’s text finds Jesus with his disciples, asking them to identify his role and place in society, and among his followers. 

Peter’s confession of faith is a well-known episode in Jesus’ ministry. 

Peter and the other disciples advise Jesus that he is seen as the return of one of the prophets in days of old, and perhaps even John the Baptist. 

Upon proclaiming that Jesus is the Messiah, Peter and the others are sworn to the secrecy of Jesus’ identity, before Jesus saves the bad news for last. 

What is most interesting about the text, and the texts we couple with this one, is that none of the disciples or Peter identify Jesus as Isaiah, or “the suffering servant” from our first lesson. 

I know that text particularly well. 

It was one of the first Hebrew texts I ever translated in seminary. 

I wrote an extensive paper on this lesson. 

It is a pretty graphic portrayal of a Prophet, speaking out to his people. 

He is speaking out not only to them, but in support of them.

He is attempting to strengthen them, support them, and allow them to grow as God’s people. 

In response he is brutally punished and silenced. 

This isn’t the end of the plight of the suffering servant, in the next song of the suffering servant, it becomes even more graphic. 

In the fourth act, the people become the voice in the song, announcing the servant’s death and their own responsibility for it. 

There is a tone of remorse in the voice of the author, and there is much debate in academic circles just who the servant was; an individual prophet like Isaiah, 

Or the collective nation of Israel. 

It matters both a little or lot, depending on the context of its use, 

But for today, the most significant thing is the fact that the vulgar brutality described mirrors the foreshadowing of Jesus’ own humiliation and death. 

An image Jesus alludes to in the Gospel today. 

Scattering the hopeful optimism of his followers that he will usher in a new age of what they see as justice and God’s intention for the world. 

Jesus foreshadows his own suffering, but the worst part is he in fact invites more suffering. 

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will save it.”

That one portion of the text has just been a recurring quote in my head this week, over and over again; 

Take up THEIR cross and follow me. 

Jesus isn’t asking us to be crucified on his cross. 

He isn’t asking us to suffer in the same way he did. 

He is asking us to “set our faces like flint” as Isaiah says, essentially staring down our pain, our grief, our bondage to sin, hatred, and anger. 

He is asking us to steer our ship into the storms of our worlds. 

Photo by Author

So, we did a thing in my house. 

We watched the events of 9/11 play out on old footage online. 

We told our children the stories from that day. 

My wife and I wept, and my children remained confused. 

Confused about what emotions they should or shouldn’t express. 

And in this moment, I leaned on Jesus’ Word. 

I approached the questions and confusion realizing that this is not my children’s cross. 

They are no more familiar with the events of September 11^th than I am with the events of December 7^th 1941. 

They cannot know what that NYC skyline meant to our collective nation, so we closed the lesson with a video montage we found of iconic movie scenes where the WTC could be seen in the background. 

They’ll never know how that day wounded me, or their mother, or our nation. 

They have no memory of what was lost that day. 

But what is more, just as I could not know December 7^th the way my grandparents or my great Uncle who blazed the trail I would follow when he responded to those attacks by enlisting in the USMC

They too cannot fully understand 9/11. 

My great Uncle rarely spoke of his experiences leading to WWII, or his role at Peleliu and Okinawa. 

But it was a cross he bore all his life, from that black and white photo of a young Marine surviving a brutal fight with a squad sized company of other Marines. 

He didn’t ask me to bear that cross for him, 

Perhaps it was due to his stoic nature, or post-traumatic stress?

But maybe, just perhaps, he knew this would not be the last cross young men and women would have to bear?

Perhaps he knew that a young Marine recruit would be standing at attention before a BN commander, announcing to a full company of Marine recruits that they would now be charged with carrying their own cross; 

A twenty-year multi front war. 

There are many crosses we must bear, and God help us all, who are we kidding when we demand others never forget?!

How does one even forget such a day as that?

But those who never knew it cannot be expected to carry that cross, nor should we want them to, 

Because this world is still broken, flawed, and damned by what we’ve become. 

The next generation will face their own crosses, so who am I to ask them to carry mine?

Unless we do better, we will continue to build the crosses that our children and their children will carry. 

Jesus doesn’t demand we carry his cross, he only demands we carry the ones we are faced with, 

But the crux, the hope, the grace, the resilience can be found clearly in the fact that in the midst of being called to carry our own crosses, the only one not carrying their own in that story is Jesus the Christ. 

He carried it for us, and the promise is that he will be the one taking it onto his shoulders when we believe we can go no farther. 

Amen

Skin in the Game

 

Mark 1:4-11

6 January 2021 Tyler Merbler CC
2021 Storming of the Capitol building.

On Wednesday, my Sailors had the tv in our waiting room tuned into C-Span. 

As I finished up a counseling session, it was eerily quiet in the building where I work. 

It is usually pretty lively and busy, but something was off. 

Everything looked normal, until I realized that the picture of the Senator speaking had a note at the bottom of the screen which read “recorded earlier.”

What I came to discover was that some type of forceful entry had occurred at the capital building. 

I didn’t even realize how bad it had gotten, until the Chaplain I work with, and I both turned on the tv’s in our offices

-Something we rarely have the time or desire to do at work-

Between the three televisions, we were all tuned into a different news networks, 

Looking onward in horror and shock. 

I became enraged, and one Sailor asked aloud how many of those protesting even knew how to wear the flack jackets and equipment they had clumsily draped over themselves. 

“They’re all a bunch of posers” came the reply of another. 

As the eerie quiet seemed to seep into the corners of the entire base, we too quietly left the building. 

It was odd how quiet my corner of our nation was in that moment, as I called an old friend I had served with as a Marine. 

He was standing by at the capital, preparing to repel the assault that had driven into the halls, and the chambers of our government. 

My friend has worn the cloth of this nation all his life, and as I was peacefully driving home, begging him to be safe and telling him how dearly I loved him, I felt as fake as those on the steps of the capital; helplessly and uselessly doing nothing. 

As helpless as I felt, when I got home, I watched in horror, with clenched fists, shouting at the television that those who were sacking the seat of our government had no right to do such a thing, because they have no skin in the game.

Domenico Ghirlando, Baptism of Christ 1486-1490 PD

Today is the Baptism of our Lord, even in the midst of all that is going on, ESPECIALLY in the midst of all that is going on. 

Today is the day that we not only recognize and celebrate the baptism of our Lord; Christ Jesus, 

But it is also the day that we hear Mark’s account of the incarnation. 

No baby, cattle, shepherds, or creche in this scene. 

It is only a muddy filthy little creek. 

I’ve been there, and I will tell you, it is not only about the color of chocolate milk, but it’s just about as thick as chocolate milk too. 

Mark’s gospel begins with the baptism, which many refer to as the “baptismal incarnation.”

It has led some to claim that Christ truly becomes the embodiment of the Divine, not in the nativity scene, but in those waters and in that moment. 

That is a debate best left for another day, but today there is one thing for certain; in that moment, God -in and through Christ Jesus- shows that God indeed has skin in the game. 

We are baptized into the death and resurrection of Christ Jesus, but one of the most asked questions in the church is why is it so necessary for Jesus to be baptized?

This again is another question, to which many debates and answers are offered up, but I think the answer to that question can be found in that incredibly disgusting water. 

Photo by author; Jordan River 2014

During my trip to the Jordan River on the celebration of the Baptism of our Lord, the tour bus parked on the Israeli side of the river as I guzzled down a Dasani bottle of water. 

I chugged it down like a frat boy with a beer at a Friday night party, as we exited the bus. 

When we got to the river, I was filling up the bottle with Jordan river water as many other seminarians looked on and laughed a little bit. 

We had all grown exhausted of the trinkets and souvenirs pushed on us at each location we visited. 

Dirt, rocks, pottery shards, necklaces, trinkets of all sorts, are sold all over the place. 

Each of those sacred sites are like a religious Disneyland, so everyone becomes a little jaded and cynical about what others seem to find worth taking home. 

So, it was no surprise that my retrieval of that disgusting water seemed silly to some. 

After spending time at the Jordan, we got back on board the bus, and one of the friends I had made asked directly “Are you really going to take that home with you? It’s kind of silly isn’t it?”

“Maybe…” I told him, “but it’s kind of a cool reminder that Christ was baptized in a river so full of filth of every kind, to include our own sin.”

You see? We are baptized into something holy, while Christ is baptized into something vile. 

The Christ is baptized into our filth, our sin, our shame. 

In fact it is such a vulgar and filthy commitment, that the very heavens and universe itself are driven apart, into a schism, divided by the injection of something fully holy, into something fully and completely vulgar. 

Jesus Christ shows us that yes, truly, God has some skin in the game here. 

The Baptism of Christ, 
Master of the St. Bartholomew Altar 1500 PD

I’m still not okay with what happened this week. 

And each time I watch the videos and pictures from what transpired, I become angered and I find myself accusing others of having no skin in the game. 

But I can’t control what they invest of themselves, into this nation, or into this mission we are called to share in by God, to love others as Christ loved us. 

I can’t demand that they invest more into what we hold sacred; the hallowed halls of our institutions, the history of this nation, the rule of law and constitution that serve as the framework and guiding light for how we live and are held accountable. 

I can, however, be more diligent in ensuring that I hold myself to those standards. 

I can display my pride for my nation and my allegiance to it, by honoring the colors of my nation in the face of such actions, or carrying that constitution in the pocket of my uniform, ensuring I am aware everyday, to that with which I pledged and continue to pledge my loyalty to daily. 

I can look for opportunities to serve, not only my nation but also my community, investing of myself in those places most uncomfortable and unclean. 

Likewise, I should most certainly and most importantly do the same with my baptism, remembering daily the promise made to me when I wash my face, just as Luther prescribed. 

But also remembering it is not just a reminder of the skin God put into the game, but the skin God calls me to put into the game as well. 

I need to live out my baptism daily, which is as much, and so much more of a challenge than honoring my nation, 

Because one day, this nation will fall, and this past Wednesday we were reminded of how vulnerable we are to such a thing. 

I do not celebrate that fact, nor do I ever want that to be a sight my eyes or the eyes of my children ever behold. 

But when that day comes, God will still have skin in the game, 

Just as God always has; 

When Adam desecrated the sanctity of the garden, 

When Cane desecrated the sanctity of human life, 

When the sanctity of the very seat of God -the Temple- was sacked and destroyed. 

Throughout God’s story and human history, things that we hold sacred and holy have been desecrated, 

It doesn’t make it right, and it most certainly doesn’t make it acceptable, 

But we need to do more than ask ourselves what others are doing about it, 

And we need to ensure, that whatever we do about it, it is through the lens of the highest allegiance we hold in our Christian lives together; 

The promise God makes, and calls us to in our baptisms, 

A banner colored into our own skin, with the dye of Christ’s blood +.

I pray we all can still see something sacred and beautiful in this nation, as we clean up the mess that has been made and sweep up the carnage from those halls that were sacked,

but we must never see that cross through the lens of any flag, that cross is meant to be the lens that colors all other things we love, 

Because God was the One who first taught us how to love, loving each and every one of us, above the colors of any nation. 

Amen

Image of the stained glass window,
showing George Washington at prayer,
located in the Capitol Prayer Room
US Government PD

These views are mine, and do not represent the DoD, DoN, or Chaplain Corps.