What Nolan's Batman Movies and Jesus Have Taught Me About How To Respond To The Terrorist Attacks in Denver

First let me apologize if you find this opportunistic or inappropriate and forgive me for adding to the noise…

This morning I took a dozen of my youth to see the Dark Knight Rises, but not before I was awoken by a phone call from a concerned parent.  She asked if I was still planning on taking the youth to see the film in light of the terrorist attack this morning in Denver.  I think she ultimately called me to think outloud, so I quietly ‘uh-hu-ed’ along as she pontificated that it’s probably safe because we were going to a morning viewing.  Safe.

I was thoroughly entertained and satisfied by the film except for the scene where the antagonist, Bane, holds the Gotham Stock Exchange Hostage.  In this scene, him and his henchmen murder about a thirty people in cold blood.  With the events of last night swirling around in my brain, I found it disturbing and terrifying.  I caught myself looking around the theatre a few times both imagining what it must have been like for those souls in Colorado and feeling for my own sake afraid and unsafe.  Safe.

Who promised us this safety: that every time a tragedy shatters our feelings of security we demand answers?  Why do we think that watching 24-hour news cycles and finding out what kind of parents the killer had will put the pieces back together?  Why is it so important that things go back to normal?

Wake up my friends.

Evil exists in this world.  And if we learned anything from Nolan’s last Batman movie it’s that some people ‘just like to watch the world burn.’  Sometimes bad things happen and there is no rhyme or reason, no plot or motive, no way to prevent it from happening, no way to promise it won’t happen again, it just simply exists.  But this is the way it is for most people in this world.  Whether its people dying and being mutilated by war lords and militias or epidemic diseases without cures or hurricanes or tornadoes or psychopaths or alcoholism or pedophilia or drought or starvation… Evil exists in this world.  And as long as there are varying levels of hate, greed, jealousy, inequality, prejudice, pollution, exploitation, bitterness, lust, disease, and sloth, it is here to stay.

Some people get the benefit of going longer periods of time being ignorant to evil’s presence but sooner or later a tragedy will strike and it will find you.  But the damned thing is, somebody in this modern world promised us safety.  They told us suffering is bad and the quicker we can alleviate the discomfort the better.  And so when tragedy strikes we look at the talking heads like some kind of crew on sinking ship directing us to the lifeboats.  Perhaps, we tweet about demanding better gun laws or we tell everyone to carry their own guns so that when it comes we can be ready.

But deep down we all know that the truth is, no amount of government, wealth or artillery will protect you from tragedy, suffering, and our inevitable deaths.  The one thing that we all have in common is our suffering and its aim is to teach us compassion and tolerance.  You cannot fix suffering, you can only run from it or turn and face it, embrace it and begin the process of grieving, which is the way we heal.

Please stop watching television.  Please stop demanding answers.  Please stop trying to go back to the way things were.  We have become a society of numb and lonely people.  We complain about being enslaved by Facebook, our smart phones, and our individualized busyness.  We complain that our kids are too addicted to video games and have become increasingly desensitized to violence.  So why do we want things to go back to ‘normal?’  Why is this uneasiness we feel so bad and our feeling of apathetic numbness so good (or maybe it’s a blinding stress and busyness)?    

Sure, to be aware of the world’s suffering is full of tension and causes us to reevaluate our values and our priorities.  But I believe, as I watched people be murdered on screen today, this morning’s events put me back in touch with reality: Violence is evil.  I should be uncomfortable with it.  This doesn’t mean that there is some silver lining to the terrorism, that it was good that it happened because now we can all appreciate what we have, blah blah blah, etc etc etc.  No, this morning’s event was senseless and unexplainable. 

However, what we are today is conscious.  So the question I wish to pose is: How are you going to respond?  Are you hoping that something else will come along and trick you into believing you are safe again?  Are you going to choose despair or apathy and hopefully time will lull you back into your ignorant and idle bliss?  Or are you going to use this as a time to be present to the suffering in this world?  Will you choose to suffer with everyone you know and those you can imagine, learn more deeply the story of the human condition, discover the ways you are perpetuating the cycles of evil in this world, repent, forgive, forgive everyone because they are just like you and be more charitable to your fellow human?

WE CANNOT CONTROL EVIL.  The only thing we CAN control is whether or not we choose to participate in perpetuating it.

Grieve well my friends.

Pray.  God is near.

Shalom.  

The Weakness of Superman

A few weeks ago I blogged about some thoughts I had about Superman (The Paradox of Superman)... The blog turned into fodder for my sermon that preached based on 2 Corinthians 12:2-10 yesterday.

Here is the audio as well as the manuscript I was preaching from.  

(They are different because I didn't bring my manuscript up to the pulpit because I'm a terrible reader) 

Audio:

Manuscript: 

In case you don’t know me too well, I’m a bit of a comic book nerd.  I have several comic book toys in my office and my most beloved toy is my Superman toy from the Kingdom Come series.  It was a gift from my dear friend and mentor Dixon Kinser.

More than reading comic books, I love the debate of comic books, the dialogue, the arguments that come out of them: DC vs. Marvel, who is the best X-men character, who is your favorite Avenger... and the most classic of all comic book arguments, Superman vs. Batman.  Now to be fair, I totally understand why people love Batman, he’s dark, conflicted, damaged and sexy.  And I think we like connecting with a hero we can identify with.  I mean, Superman is an alien from the planet Krypton.  He’s faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, he can fly, his morals seem impenetrable.

However, the reason I feel compelled to love Superman is in the difference between the alter egos:  Batman is Bruce Wayne, Superman is Clark Kent.  Now when Bruce Wayne wants to become a superhero he puts on a costume and becomes the Batman.  On the other hand, Clark Kent is actually Superman.  The cape he wears is the blanket he was wrapped in when he was sent to earth.  His costume is Clark Kent.  What’s even more interesting is the kind of human that Superman is: he’s frail, shy, and unsure of himself.  Clark Kent is weak.  Many have argued that Clark Kent is this way because that is how Superman sees humans.  Superman sees us as weak.  But here’s the thing that ultimately gets me, even though we are weak Superman still feels compelled to save us. 

In Matthew chapter 5, we read Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.  He begins the sermon with what we call the beatitudes:

Blessed are the meek

Blessed are the poor in spirit

Blessed are the peacemakers

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness

Blessed are those who grieve

It is these people, Jesus says, will inherit the earth and will reign in the Kingdom of God.  Jesus looks upon the weak and desperate and says this is what my Kingdom is founded upon.  Why?  Why if you were going to build a kingdom would you build your foundation on the weakest members of society?

It’s because the kingdom of God is different kind of kingdom.  For thousands of years the Egyptian, Roman, Babylonian, Chinese, English, and even our own American empires, rose and fell on war, wealth and power. But the Kingdom that Jesus is building is a entirely different kind of empire.  Instead of accumulating and destroying it is about setting to right the brokenness of creation.  The kingdom of God is an empire of our togetherness.  All the ways, in which we work to separate ourselves and hurt one another, Jesus is working to heal.  It is the thesis of our daily prayer: your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

And I have always looked at the beatitudes as if Jesus is talking about ‘those people,’ those that are meek, poor, and hungry.  But I think it is better read the way Eugene Peterson translates it: blessed are you when you are meek, poor, and hungry.  The beatitudes are an invitation to embrace our weakness.  If you have ever grieved you know this is the only way to heal.  When we choose to be meek we no longer continue the escalation of violence.  When we hunger and thirst for righteousness we clearly identity what is unjust.  When we are poor we begin to trust God’s provision and see that there is plenty to go around.  Embracing our weakness is the only way for heaven to become one with earth.

Fast forward a couple of decades and we see an exasperated Paul desperately trying to keep his church together.  You see Corinth was a deeply Greek culture, a place where philosophy and knowledge reigns supreme.  Teachers were held to the highest of pedestals.  People in Corinth aspired to be great teachers, however, if they couldn’t cut it as a teacher, they at least wanted to follow a great teacher or for lack of better term, be a disciple of a great teacher.  Following a great teacher was your identity, it gave you status and authority.  But it wasn’t enough that you followed a good teacher; you had to follow the best teacher.  Therefore it was your job to stifle other groups, to discredit them and to destroy their credibility.  So when Paul established the church in Corinth, it didn’t take long for this value to make it’s way into the church.  In 1 Corinthians we read about people already beginning to follow other leaders like Apollos, who are claiming to have secret knowledge about Jesus, special divine experiences and are splintering the church. So what we find in Paul’s second letter to the church in Corinth is responses to people asking Paul to give them something to tell others about how great it is to follow Paul.  

And Paul, who I believe is the guy he is talking about going to the third realm of heaven (whatever that means), says, ‘I have indeed experienced God in a very profound way but I don’t come back with this experience with anything to boast about.  Instead I am more than ever profoundly aware of my thorn in my flesh.’  You see the closer to God Paul found himself, the more aware of his weakness he became.

I find myself often times uttering phrases like, ‘I wish people would just respect me,’ or ‘I want to be a great leader.’  But when it comes time to do the work of dealing with my foolishness or my shortcomings, I would rather keep showing off my strengths.  And I don’t think I’m at all alone in this.  We live in a culture that hides our weaknesses and celebrates our strengths.  Get on Facebook for just a couple of minutes.  What you have is a constant stream of boasting.  Look how awesome this meal I made was.  Look how awesome my new job is.  Look how awesome my vacation was.  Look how awesome I am.  But if you have ever got on Facebook with any amount of loneliness or insecurity, you know all of this boasting only drives you deeper into a place of isolation and insignificance.

Where is the space in our world for weakness?

What if Superman came to earth and instead of disguising himself as weak, exploited himself in front of humanity, constantly boasting of his strength?  Would anyone even feel significant enough to be saved?

A few years ago I was on a men’s retreat with my last parish.  And in case you don’t know anything about men’s retreats in the Episcopal Church, there’s quite a bit of drinking to go along with the fellowship.  At about ten o’clock that evening, a man who I have come to respect very deeply, stood up and announced that at seven o’clock there was going to be a meeting, an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and anyone who wanted to come was welcome to come.  Since many of my closest family members are alcoholics and I’ve seen how AA has been so beneficial, I decided it would be good for me to go.  That morning I experienced the most profound glimpse of the Kingdom of God.  I wept as I watched man after man, our society’s symbol of strength and power (masculinity), stand up and confess that they were powerless over alcohol.  And I wept because I longed for the space that I could shamelessly admit that I too am powerless and weak.

Paul says, “in my weakness I am made strong.”

Do you actually believe that?

What kind of space are you creating?  Is there space in your life for yourself and others to boast of weakness?  Do you have space and time to grieve, to rest, to be silent, to want something bigger than this world?  Are you building the Kingdom of God or are you too busy building an empire or your own strength?

May you know your weaknesses.  May you desire healing in the name of Jesus.  And may it give you peace.

Shalom.

The sermon is property of:
St Paul's Episcopal Church
Murfreesboro, TN
www.stpaulsmboro.org