Herod's Song and Theodicy

Back around Palm Sunday, somebody posted a link to the "Jesus Must Die/Hosanna" clip from the 1973 movie of Jesus Christ Superstar. From there I went through several versions of that scene and others, including a number of "Herod's Song." There are several good versions, but, as is often the case, I like a version where high school students do it very well. This one is from New Ross (from the names, I'm guessing it's the one in County Wexford, Ireland).

(There are several professional versions linked at YouTube, if you prefer.)

Anyway, the song is a clever development of the line at Luke 23:8. "Herod was very glad to see Jesus; he had  been wanting to see him for a long time, for he had heard about him and had been hoping to see him perform some sign." But Jesus did nothing and said nothing. And it occurs to me that as a rule, the miracles of Jesus are responses to the faith of people in some kind of need, not merely magic tricks to convince the people to believe in him. So when Herod says things like, "Prove to me that you're divine: Change my water into wine," he's got it backwards. He has neither the need nor the faith for Jesus to respond to.

One of the great issues that stands in the way of faith is the problem of evil: if God is loving and omnipotent, why does this happen? Sometimes it is asked by people of sincere faith who have just suffered some great loss. Sometimes it shakes or destroys their faith. Sometimes, on the other hand, it can be asked sneeringly, by someone who is trying to cast doubt on the faith of others. In those cases, it is like Herod's Song; and we can reply to the scoffer that God is under no obligation to answer your demands.

Would Herod really have believed if Jesus had performed a miracle? Talking to John the Baptist didn't convert him. He might have been surprised and impressed, but he doesn't seem to have been interested in the gospel, just in spectacle.

Herod's Song reminds us that God does not perform on command from us. The whole story of Jesus' suffering and death reminds us that God does not remove pain and sorrow from this life. But Jesus' resurrection promises us that all earthly pain will end and God can give eternal life.

Happy Easter!

I realize the for many readers, even as I post this, Easter Sunday is past. That means, of course, that it is Easter Monday.

Indeed, in my Church, Easter Week is treated as if it were a single celebration. So it's Easter all week; and there's a 50 day period, a week of weeks in which we continue to live and worship in the glow of Easter. (Jewish readers may think at this point of Shavuot.) All this is by way of saying that the greeting in the title of this post is not belated.

For those of us who are Christian, this is the high point of the year. Christmas is joyous indeed, but the birth of Jesus occurred in order for him to be able to die and rise. And it is that death and resurrection which shows him as our Lord and Savior and promises us our own resurrection and everlasting life through faith in him. That is the central message of Christianity.

We do not deny suffering and death. We do not imagine that God will, or is obliged to, keep us from suffering — any more than he kept Jesus from suffering — but we have the joy, even in the midst of our suffering and troubles, of knowing that through Jesus, God shares his life with us — a liife that will never end, a life in which, after death and resurrection, there will be no more pain and sorrow.

This is a belief which we hold in faith. Non-Christians may raise doubts and objections. There are classic responses (apologetics) which we find satisfying, but no one is forced into belief. We are persuaded, and we believe that God gives us this belief as his free gift. We can recognize the questions and doubts, but we find that we still believe, that we cannot not believe.

For those who cannot believe in that core message of Christianity — that Jesus is risen and he is Lord — we invite you to believe that Life and Love can triumph over the "little deaths" of life — loss of love, loss of friendship, loss of job, loss of ability to do things we have enjoyed — that while there is life there is hope, and that there will be something which can give us a new joy, that the loss of one joy is not the end of all joy.

So happy Easter to all.

Happy Passover …

to all my Jewish readers. May all people come to live in the freedom from slavery which this holy day celebrates.

The nineteenth of April is also the anniversary of the Battle of Concord and Lexington, where in 1775 the Massachusetts citizens turned back a British force seeking stockpiled weapons of the Minutemen. This is generally regarded as the start of hostilities in  the American Revolution. For the dedication of an obelisk on the anniversary in 1836, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote "Concord Hymn."

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 

Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,

Here once the embattled farmers stood,

And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;

And Time the ruined bridge has swept

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,

We set to-day a votive stone;

That memory may their deed redeem,

When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those spirits dare,

To die, and leave their children free,

Bid Time and Nature gently spare

The shaft we raise to them and thee.

The first stanza is still familiar at least to some New Englanders, and the day is commemorated with a holiday on the third Monday of April in Maine, Massachusetts and, I believe, Wisconsin.

Retreat — December 2009, cont'd.

In the introductory meeting with my retreat director, Sister Barbara, she suggested that I and the others she was directing should try, during the retreat, to be in the presence of the loving God. (Good advice for anytime.) The next morning, she suggested that I begin reading the Gospel of Mark as a way of becoming acquainted with Jesus — that I should pay careful attention to what he does, says, finds important, feels, notices — and that I should pray for the grace to know, love, and follow him.

By the end of the retreat, I had got as far as Mark 9:1. I noticed him praying, calling followers preaching, calling sinners, healing, protecting his followers, being down to earth, angry with those who refused to listen and opposed his message of God's love.

She also suggested some other passages, from Luke, for me to read and reflect on.

At one point I mentioned a particular person who I felt had undermined me at an important point in my life and who had recently died. Sr. Barbara suggested something she called a "wisdom dialogue," in which I say what bothered me and try to imagine how he would respond. It would be a dialogue aiming at some sort of mutual understanding. I think it is a strategy for what other people call "healing of memory." And I guess it worked, because the incident no longer bothers me as it used to, and I no longer feel as upset with him as I used to.

In prayer times, I occasionally tried to have similar conversations with Jesus. I'm not sure how accurate every word that I thought he would say is as an expression of his thinking. There were some good points, though. At one point the scary questions occurred to me, "Have I given my life to you, Lord, or have I been living for myself all along? Do I really want to be with you?"

There was a question also of feeling God's presence, versus realizing God's presence. I had been operating under the assumption that I was supposed to have some kind of special feeling, but I came to realize that God's presence is a reality regardless of emotion. This is important, because it tells me I can be truly praying even if I don't have some special feeling of God's nearness at that moment. I don't have to consider that I'm not praying.

All in all, I'd say that the retreat was worthwhile, that I got some good ideas about how to pray. Unfortunately, when I got back home, within a couple of days I was back into my old pattern of daily life, where I didn't set aside a block or blocks of time for the sort of Bible reading and prayer that I had been doing. Obviously, I had to be doing other things most of the day, but a half hour would do — only I didn't plan my days, and so I never (or rarely) made the time to do it. Avoidance is so easy.

Perhaps we can say it was a good foundation that I failed to build on.

Seth the Waiter — A Farewell of Sorts

Last Friday, before the chamber music concert, I went as usual to the Scollay Square restaurant for dinner. After I was seated, Seth informed me that he now has a full time job. He is working in constituent service for his state representative, and will rarely, if ever, work on Fridays at the restaurant. He may work on Mondays and Saturdays. Since I'm very unlikely to be in Boston for dinner on either of those evenings, it could well be that I won't see him again.

This probably final encounter seems to have meant something to him as well. At one point late in the meal he came to my table and said, "Well," and then couldn't think of something appropriate to say. Later he said he'd like to know what books I was reading, and gave me a slip of paper on which he had written his work e-mail address (which gives his last name).

He did his work as a waiter very well. Perhaps he became "too friendly" for purists, who think that a good waiter never has a personal conversation with a patron. But his service was so good that after a couple of times there, I had to tell the manager how good he was, and I'm sure my satisfaction at having him for a waiter showed when he came to my table. I was very pleased when he showed an interest in what I was reading, and talking briefly about the books was something I was happy to be able to do.

So, no more encounters with Seth, although I'll probably send him an e-mail once in a while. But there are good memories.

Back Again

I'll try to post soon about my time off as well as other things. But next week will be busy, so we'll see how much I get to.