Category: Grace

The Truth Shall Set You Free

On March 12, 2025

When I was teaching courses on the Bible at Elmhurst College, John 8:32 was a wonderful opening to what religion was all about: “The truth shall make you free.” Enrollments had shifted to the Social and Natural Sciences, reflecting the cultural shift that truth had to do with facts and the ability to use and control all sorts of things: institutions, markets and even nature itself. So it was very counter cultural to suggest that Jesus was not thinking of truth as facts but the relation between ourselves and other people, nature and God. It had to do with life rather than death, harmony rather than division. For this reason I don’t do very well on a Bible quiz dealing with people and places.

Christian writings often appeal to Genesis 2 to describe how things were meant to be, before they were torn apart by deception and falsehood. This idyllic picture can be helpful even though one need not take Genesis 1-2 as a literal description of the origin of things. So consider the image: The newly created humans know the truth: they know that they are human and not God, that God is God and may be trusted; and that freedom and life are found in loving one another and God. It may be called Paradise because of the harmony between all. The humans trust one another and there is no fear, even though they are naked, i.e, defenseless. But when they seek the knowledge of good and evil, which belongs only to God, the harmony is broken and they are afraid of one another and of God. In that state, they must protect themselves from one another (therefore they put on clothes) and hide from God. Note, in that situation they are no longer free but are governed by fear and the need to defend themselves. From this perspective, the truth which brings freedom is the truth that restores relations between humans and God. In other words, truth is the means to repair the damage of deception and falsehood.

But things change. We are now at a point where it is necessary to affirm that truth also has to do with facts and that whatever our intentions, messing with facts can cause a serious break in relations with nature, one another and with God. This is not surprising. Facts tell us about specific things, but also about the relations between things. If I say Cleveland is in Ohio, that means that it is east of Chicago. But that’s an easy one. When your wife asks the question: “Where were you last night?” this seemingly factual question could prove to be a very important relational question.

Human discourse requires that we tell the truth about facts. Family life, business, education, history, science, health and yes, politics, are all about getting the facts straight. All my life it has been suggested the politicians sometimes misrepresent things, shade the truth, and even say things which are false. But I have never known a president who willingly and without shame, tells us so many false things as the current president. It first appeared that he just had a penchant for exaggeration or making sweeping statements. But then it was declared that what he said were “alternative facts.” It took a while to understand this, but it is hard to accept is as normal or right.

Insisting on falsehoods is marked by two things. The first is that it is not just exaggeration, but a deliberate attempt to create a new reality or alternative world. By misrepresenting oneself one theoretically becomes what one hopes to be—a successful business man, a great deal maker, and even a candidate that never loses. All the limits and setbacks which most people have to accept are dismissed. All the adjustments one has to make living with the people in the real world are unnecessary. Life is defined any way one chooses. It really is an alternative world, which can only be maintained by continually defending it and adding on extensions to the original falsehood. The whole thing is a house of cards. When it finally falls apart there is a sense of betrayal, like unto the exposing of false idols.

The second aspect of living in an alternative world is that it requires accomplices and enablers. In the micro-world of the family, the whole family has to adjust and go along. In larger communities, those who are supposed to be the guardians of reality in all its forms must decide to accept the aberrations imposed by the alternative world. Take for example, the attempt to create an alternative history of America, where the facts of slavery, segregation and repression are suddenly never to have happened, or at least in their true form. We are supposed to somehow work out a new relation with African Americans without any reference to the real history, which is banned because it makes some uncomfortable and allows others to perpetuate an alternative history, as in the attempt to redefine the Civil War by saying that it was about States’ Rights or economics. The problem with this is that it misrepresents reality and thereby perpetuates the original inequality. White and black people are not seen as who they are, or what they have experienced, or what is currently the state of America. The truth is swept aside and replaced by false claims. Truth, as respect for facts, is thus betrayed.

The consequences of insisting on falsehoods and trying to live in a bubble of make believe are obvious. One is that it initiates a continual process of defending what is false in order to perpetuate the original falsehood. Some states have now resorted to using the power of laws to force people from challenging the falsehoods. With our President it began with arguments about crowd size at his first inauguration, and culminated in the false claim that he won the 2020 election. This was followed by the false claim that January 6 was not an attempt to overthrow the election. Four years later it required pardons for hundreds of people convicted of crimes relating to January 6, since their convictions repudiated the claim that the event was a peaceful protest. At each point he sought to create an alternative world and in each case people around him were forced to play the game. Elected officials, party leaders, religious leaders, news media chose to take up residence in this fantasy world rather than resist and acknowledge the truth. Most recently, in February 2025, he repeated the false claim that the U.S. spent 350 billion in support of Ukraine. But to everyone’s surprise, the President of France would not accept this and corrected the President in the White House: in fact the figure was closer to 110 billion, while NATO allies had contributed 130 billion. Yet he repeated the false claim when he berated Mr. Zelensky. So it goes, on and on, to perpetuate an alternative world.

When a President insists on misrepresent the truth, those around him are forced to accept what is not true. Even though so many defer in silence or share in confidence that they don’t believe the fabrications, the damage is done. They are forced to lose their integrity in order to be loyal and keep their jobs.

The larger consequence is the way disagreements over facts lead to breaks in relations between people and groups. All these years of maintaining false claims creates a general breakdown in political discourse. Those in the president’s orbit no longer may say what they know to be true. The culture of false claims therefore sets people against one another, at all levels from family and friends to political opponents to world leaders. No wonder things fell apart in the Oval Office on Feb. 28. Mr. Trump wants to create an alternative history regarding the war, where Mr. Putin is not an aggressor, and move on to business regarding precious metals. But the man sitting next to him was trying to save his country from destruction, which includes loss of thousands of soldiers and civilians, cities laid waste and the unimaginable, 20,000 children being abducted. It is hard to get past the refusal to deal with these facts. This is why we need to tell the truth. False claims distort and malign people. We must tell the truth because it is the first step toward right relations. Recall that in the South Africa Peace Process, the process toward reconciliation began with telling and owning the truth regarding what happened.

There was a time in Protestant theology when it was very fashionable to make a distinction between facts and broader values and relations. So, one could point to Jesus as the One who brings the truth about salvation, which has little to do with the facts of this world. That distinction may or may not have been appropriate in the 1960’s and 70’s as I struggled to find a point of connection with college students. But it is not appropriate now. Creating an alternate world of false facts only isolates and divides. And that means, even if it is not the real intent, that division and war never end. On the very eve of Lent, it is worth remembering that Jesus’ announcement of the presence of the Rule of God began with the call to repentance. And what is repentance other than telling the truth about what is, about what we all have done, and about the consequences of our actions. In this world, telling the truth can be painful. Of course it makes us uncomfortable, but since when is our comfort the standard for what we say. Only the truth about what has happened in our history, about what is happening in Ukraine and Russia, or Israel and Gaza, can set us free, no matter how uncomfortable or painful it may be.

Lent: The Power of the Story of Jesus

By Peter Schmiechen

On February 13, 2025

In Family, Grace, Theology

When I was a kid, Lent was a very special time. This is the church season that lasts for forty days leading up to Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week and ending in Easter. Back then, we did not practice Anointing with Ashes on Ash Wednesday, that was something Catholics did. But we had to go to church every Wednesday evening for six weeks. As I remember, it was a communal celebration of the story of Jesus. He was always at the center doing things like healing the sick, teaching, telling stories and getting into trouble. Around him were his disciples and lots of people who wanted to follow him, but kept doing the wrong things. Then there were people who did not like what Jesus was doing and last but not least there were Romans who were in charge with lots of soldiers. A great cast of characters.

So every Sunday and Wednesday my Dad, the preacher, would present some episode of Jesus interacting with one or more of these people. Some of them, like the disciples, seemed to want to follow him but could never get things straight and did the wrong things. James and John wanted to do the right thing, but then asked to rule over people and Jesus really scolded them. Late in the story Peter denied knowing Jesus and Judas betrayed Jesus, who was eventually arrested and crucified. As a congregation of listeners, we were asked to see ourselves in this story and learn something about good and bad, but especially see the contrast between Jesus and all these characters. So in one case we might learn about the selfish son who asked for his inheritance and went away only to lose it all and end up tending pigs. That’s quite graphic. Or, as already mentioned, James and John had trouble getting the message. When they thought Jesus might come to worldly power, they wanted authority to rule over others. And of course there were bright spots where Jesus taught us how to pray, or told us what we needed to do to be blessed; like the merciful, or the pure in heart, or the peacemakers. The challenges were great, as in the story about the guy who had lots of money but loved it more than following Jesus. Then Jesus surprises us by saying it will be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God. As kids we were not sure what that meant, other than it sounded like our day-dreaming about being rich didn’t fit in with following Jesus. That became all the more clear as it became apparent that Jesus was faithful to God, even to the point of suffering and dying.

As communal theatre, we were brought into the story, identified with all sorts of characters, whether they were good or bad, loyal or disloyal. Each week we saw another form of virtue or human failing and we were put in the shoes of one of these figures. Sometimes it was about how things will work in the Kingdom of God. The parable of the laborers in the vineyard always provoked outrage. You may recall that this is the parable where workers start at different times of the day, but at day’s end, they all get the same pay. At Sunday dinner we argued about that because it wasn’t fair. I think Dad was glad we were arguing about something important but he had to tell us to stop fighting. Lost in all the yelling was the idea that in the Kingdom we are not treated as the world treats us according to very limited views of what a person deserves. What happened was that we learned by seeing ourselves in all the characters, wondering what we would have done and, if we were listening, what we would do now: will we be merciful, peacemakers and faithful.

I often think of those days—it wasn’t just the services but the time between them as well since the images were impressed on our minds. I think it all represented a different form of piety. As I mentioned, it was a very communal process. Being Christian meant being members of the congregation and that meant showing up for Lenten services. Faith meant being faithful to God in terms of following Jesus. Such faithfulness was always seen in the context of my family, consisting of a brother and sister, parents, grandmother and great aunt, structured around the life of a Protestant minister and the seasons of the church. But I also lived in another world which presented other kinds of challenges. Five days a week I went to a large grade school on the north side of Chicago, where the students were split between Catholics, Protestants and Jews. None of my friends at school or on the block where we lived belonged to our church. I walked the commercial streets and saw the bright lights of movie shows and commercial shops. When my friends and I walked past bars and looked through the open doors we wondered what it was like in there. I would take the L—the elevated train system—which ran through the backyards of very poor neighborhoods, I saw such crowded conditions which I could not comprehend. One summer I ventured farther from our neighborhood to a park on my bike, where I was knocked down by an older boy who then rode off with my bike. My Father was very upset and took me to the police station where it was duly recorded but I never saw the bike again. When he mentioned this at church I was surprised to find I was some kind of hero. The event heightened the difference between the larger world and our church life, especially the intense practice of Lent. There, portrayed for all to see, was the fidelity of Jesus suffering on the cross. It was fairly clear to an impressionable schoolboy that there was a difference between this message of the faithful Jesus and the messages received from the public world around me. At the time I had no idea how to resolve the tensions, but I knew they existed. Jesus made it clear that I was living in two worlds and that I could not serve two masters. What was not clear was how to resolve that and I guess I am still working on it

That world has changed in important ways. We all know about the decline of organized religion, the closing of churches and loss of members. But consider some major changes in the way we think about religion. One is that for many people, the practice of religion is an individual matter, involving a single person and God. Or as is often said: “I’m interested in spirituality.” What this can mean is that individuals use worship and the resources of organized religion to support and strengthen their personal life. It is not a matter of building up the church and its mission, even if one goes to church now and then. Religion is to support my personal journey and, as a result, one selects those things that will benefit my spiritual development. So I hear a lot of journey talk: we are all on a journey, seldom together, and church is there to help you make your way. Why is this a problem? Well, for one thing, when the focus shifts to the individual’s journey, then participating in a congregation struggling to exist in a crazy world becomes less important. For another, the person on the journey is in charge. He/she is no longer called to be a follower and take up the way of Jesus, but to select from a market place of religious practices what he or she needs and wants.

Images of being on a journey are very common and appear across the religious spectrum. Some of them are good: they allow us to connect with people by respecting differences between people and where they are at. People find themselves at different places along the journey of life. And of course the most famous devotional book in Protestantism is Pilgrim’s Progress, which conceives the life of faith as, guess what: a journey. My concern about the term is that it isolates believers from one another. You have your journey and I have mine. Most important, I fear it tends to view Jesus as the teacher/guide along the way who provides aid and points to the way. When this happens, it minimizes the broad affirmation that Jesus is more than a travel guide, but the one who transforms us and joins us into a new spiritual life that is best described as new life in him. This explains the preference for talking about rebirth and how Jesus is living water or the bread of life. If you want some backup for this, consider the work of E. P. Sanders, who concludes that the most distinctive theme in Paul’s writings in the New Testament is that of participation in Christ. In other words, Christian faith is about being part of the life of Christ and that means participating in the community of Christ. Another helpful reference would be William Evans’ study of the Reformed tradition (i.e., Protestants influenced by John Calvin rather than Martin Luther). He concludes that the distinctive thing about this tradition is being united with Christ, and that union involves the community of Christ. Now, I don’t want to overdo this. There is a place for each believer to ask about the state of his/her soul, to consider ways in which the gifts of Christ change, support and elevate the individual. In the gospels, Jesus does and says things that speak to that all the time. But it is always in the context of taking up one’s cross and following Jesus.

Let me put it this way: for several decades, books on purpose have been very popular in prompting people to bust out of confinement to narrow or negative goals. But whose purpose and what purpose are we talking about. Is purpose just a psychological concept to help people expand their vision or improve their lives according to our cultural standards—some of which are the source of our problems? Our culture associates happiness with acquiring more things, making more money and moving up the social ladder, with little regard for whether this leaves lots of people with little access to such goals. So when we talk about purposes or goals, which goals do we have in mind? Those of the Kingdom or those of a consumer driven world? By contrast, I understand the gospel to be a call to be transformed by the grace of God, not a self-help strategy.

In an article in the New York Times, David Brooks discussed how people use personal stories to define themselves. He then asked “Yet if the quality of our self-stories is so important, where do we go to learn the craft of self-narration? Shouldn’t there be some institution that teaches us to revise our stories through life, so we don’t have to suffer for years and wind up in therapy?” (3) Is not the answer to the question, for Jews and Christians, the synagogue and the church? Let’s unpack that. First, by this I mean that our self-stories reflect interests, values and commitments we inherit and create by ourselves. They may embody what is good about our culture and our lives, but they also embody some of the bias, self-interest and corruptions of a broken world. If this is so, the question then becomes: by what norms and standards are we going to evaluate our self-stories? What is needed is a new point of departure to enable us to move beyond our culture wars and social-political alignments. Unless this happens, the craft of evaluating our self-stories does not produce much change because we are confined to private bubbles, claiming innocence and repeating the same old stories without a new point of departure.

Lent offers something quite different. By hearing the story of Jesus we are confronted with the fact that we still have not resolved the tensions between the Rule of God and the ways of the world, with all its brokenness, violence and warfare. What Lent declares is that Christianity is not a three step program or a process we manage. It is a crisis. And it is created by Jesus when he tells us we can’t serve two masters. We must choose. The choice is between repentance and trust in God in contrast to some combination of our values and the powers of the world. Now here’s the hard part: Repentance as turning to God and trusting the Rule of God are not a work that earns us salvation. Salvation is a gift. That’s why the story of Jesus is a call to lose your old life and be born again, or to center your life not in the world’s ways but in Christ. In the end, the choice is to receive life by grace.

(1)Cf. E.P. Sanders, The Historial Figure of Jesus, (London: Penguin, 1993).

(2)Cf. William B. Evans, Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in American Reformed Theology, (Eugene, OR., Wipf and Stock, 2008).

(3) Cf. David Brooks, “Self-Awareness May Be Just a Mirage,” New York Times, September 16, 2021, A23.

A Favorite Verse

By Peter Schmiechen

On November 22, 2024

In Grace, Nature, Theology

On my opening page is a verse from Psalm 104 in the Jerusalem Bible. Allow me to share with you why it is so decisive for me. But first, here is the complete Psalm, which may make it obvious.

Bless Yahweh, my soul. Yahweh my God, how great you are!
Clothed in majesty and glory, wrapped in a robe of light!
You stretch the heavens out like a tent, you build your palace on the waters above;
Using the clouds as your chariot, you advance on the wings of the wind;
You use the winds as messengers and fiery flames as servants.
You fixed the earth on its foundations, unshakable for ever and ever;
You wrapped it with the deep as with a robe, the waters overtopping the mountains.
At your reproof the waters took to flight, they fled at the sound of your thunder,
Cascading over the mountains, into the valleys, down to the reservoir you made for them;
You imposed the limits they must never cross again, or they would once more flood the land.
You set springs gushing in ravines, running down between the mountains,
Supplying water for wild animals, attracting the thirsty wild donkeys,
Near there the birds of the air make their nests and sing among the branches.
From your palace you water the uplands until the ground has had all that your heavens have to offer,
You make fresh grass grow for cattle and those plants made use of by man,
for them to get food from the soil: wine to make them cheerful
oil to make them happy and bread to make them strong.
The trees of Yahweh get rain enough, those cedars of Lebanon he planted,
Here the little birds build their nests and, on the highest branches, the stork has its home.
For the wild goats there are the mountains, in the crags rock badgers hide.
You made the moon to tell the seasons, the sun knows when to set;
You bring darkness on, night falls, all the forest animals come out:
Savage lions roaring for their prey, claiming their food from God.
The sun rises, they retire, going back to lie down in their lairs
And man goes out to work, and to labor until dusk.
Yahweh, what variety you have created, arranging everything so wisely!
Earth is completely full of things you have made:
Among them vast expanse of ocean teeming with countless creatures,
Creatures large and small, with the ships going to and fro
And Leviathan whom you made to amuse you.
All creatures depend on you to feed them through the year;
You provide the food they eat, with generous hand you satisfy their hunger.
You turn your face away, they suffer, you stop their breath, they die and revert to dust.
You give breath, fresh life begins, you keep renewing the world.

Glory for ever to Yahweh! May Yahweh find joy in what he creates,
at whose glance the earth trembles, at whose touch the mountains smoke!
I mean to sing to Yahweh all my life, I mean to play for my God as long as I live.
May these reflections of mine give him pleasure, as much as Yahweh gives me!
May sinners vanish from the earth and the wicked exist no more!
Bless Yahweh, my soul.

Ever since I saw this translation of Ps 104, I was hooked. In lively, poetic language it invites you to see all the wonders and terrors of creation. In its variety and wise order, “Earth is completely full of things you have made.”(v. 24) At times Ps. 104 brings to mind Gen 1, though my hunch is that the Psalm came first, since it is more poetic, less formal and shows less interest in logical order. It also avoids the sweetness of Walt Disney and refuses to gloss over instances of nature in tooth and claw. Our life, suffering, or death are placed in dependence of the God who gives or stops the breath of all living things. There is no apology or retreat from that cluster of affirmations so essential to the Jewish world view: All things are created by God and they display wondrous variety and order. There is no attempt to cover up frightening stuff or only talk about what we might think is the good stuff. And, this is interesting, what was once created continues to exist only by the sustaining power of God. The world is not a wind up clock. God is not beyond the world, uninvolved or unaffected by what happens. Finally, this is our intended home. We are not to long for a spiritual existence void of work or physical sufferings. We are a part of this world, capable of rejoicing in God, just as God rejoices in the wonders of creation.

Ps. 104 is in the form of dramatic poetry with wonder filled images. Can such metaphorical images be a basis for descriptions of God, the world and human life? In my life time, one school of thought has insisted that the Hebrew mind was simply not interested in what we would call the nature of things, especially in terms of philosophical analysis. This meant that the Hebrew Bible was interested in the history and the salvation of Israel but not discussing God or the world in technical terms. Now, the issue here is not the use of poetry or metaphorical language, since both forms of speech might convey something to be true in a descriptive way. For example, liberals object to Gen. 1-2 as a literal account of creation not because it uses poetry but because it does not accord with our view of the created order. So what are we to do with Ps. 104?

Some might be put off by the suggestion that the world is surrounded by water—an image which reappears in the flood story of Noah, where the flood occurs because the waters of the deep rise to cover everything. Or, were the large sea monsters (Leviathan) really created to amuse God? Or again, one might ask why there is no rationale for giving or taking away the breath of life: are we at the mercy of divine whims or is there some clear purpose to the divine providence? These are legitimate questions and we should note that they assume that poetry in praise of God can convey descriptions of God and the world.

For myself, I have never been convinced that material like Ps. 104 speaks only to the heart and makes no claims about God or the world. The Psalms affirmed God the creator of all things and that humans were created for life with one another, nature and God. That such affirmations are embedded in poetic language of praise only makes them more powerful, since they are statements about God and the world bound up with faith and love toward one another and God.

If, on the other hand, the Psalms do not give us statements about God and the world, then a different kind of problem is created. Where are we going to find descriptions of God and the world to fill in the picture? If you know Christian history and theology, you are probably laughing. In an effort to give the Psalms a surer foundation, Christians in every age have borrowed language to fill in the void in the hope of giving the Psalms a surer foundation. Too often, they turned to Greek philosophy, which relies on the sharp distinction between the real and unreal, the infinite and finite, the spiritual and physical. For example, the great debate over the Trinity basically was a clash between Platonic versus Biblical assumptions regarding God. Could the Infinite God, who created all things actually enter this world of finitude and fallen creatures. Arius said No, and Athanasius said Yes. The modern variation on such a view is the attempt to protect the majesty of God from the way God is portrayed in this Psalm. God is the absolute and infinite, is above and beyond the created world, does not need to be entertained by monsters in the sea, nor is God willing to get involved in the complications of this messy world. God created everything but now lets it run and is watching, as the song says, from a distance.

At other times, elements from non-Christian views crept into the church to compromise the Psalmist’s perspective. In the early church opposition came from Gnosticism, which held that this world is fallen, prone to decay and death. The solution is to escape to the ideal realm of truth and light. This is made possible by the secret knowledge given by a divine messenger. The world is not our home but the problem. The other great option in the ancient world which nullifies Ps. 104 is cosmic dualism, which offers a simple explanation for the presence of good and evil. The answer is that there are two gods, one good and one evil. But the Psalmist will have nothing to do with this kind of polytheism.

These are the kinds of things on my mind when I read Ps. 104 and yes, that says something about me. But they are also a part of our culture: on the one hand, the world is a mixture of good and bad stuff and the best we can do is stay close to the good and avoid the bad. Then along comes Ps. 104 and shocks us with a powerful set of affirmations. There is one God, not two or many, in constant warfare. This one God creates the heavens and the earth, things majestic and wonderful and the sorrowful and sad. There is no attempt to divide the world between good and evil, nor any hint that we are spiritual creatures exiled to planet earth. Human existence is not to be explained by using two separate categories of spirit and matter, since physical things appear to be enlivened by spiritual power, yet are still made of dust. You can’t imagine how much religion that excludes. Then there is the insistence that creation is not a once for all deal, but whatever exists continues to exist only by the power of God. That certainly is an invitation to some interesting discussions. And finally, there is a total disregard for placing God on a pedestal beyond this world, free from whatever happens and totally unaffected. God takes pleasure in the creation and rejoices in it. Certainly, not all questions are answered, but it is clear that the rich poetry makes multiple claims about God and the world.

All this brings us to the ending. Verse 33 proposes that singing is the appropriate response to the God who has created all things, including us. Singing wakes us up, pierces the heart and elevates us to a higher level. It is important because when done from the heart it is not utilitarian but offered as a gift to God. It’s not elevator music. When needing to praise God, Deborah sang a song, Hannah sang her song and Mary expanded on it. David is said to have been good at singing to the Lord. There is no purpose to singing to God except for the praise and love of God. It reveals one’s heart, which is where your treasure is.

Then there is the whimsical idea of playing for God all my life. As far as I know, the Jerusalem Bible stands alone in substituting the word play for the word sing in v. 34. The word play can refer to playing musical instruments, children playing games or young and old playing in sports. Even professionals play the games. Bart Giamatti proposes that play takes on a new and special meaning in the modern world: play is that free and spontaneous activity, striving toward personal fulfillment, in contrast to all the required activities and work, which for so many have become repressive and void of meaning. (Cf. Giamatti, Take Time for Paradise, (New York: Summit; 1989) Some people work harder at their play because it is free and gives meaning to life. In such activity the individual or group gives expression to what is truly desired, authentic and fulfilling. Thus play becomes the quintessential expression of one’s self (heart, mind and soul). This modern use of the word play was certainly not on the mind of the Psalmist, but it may have been on that of the translator. To play for God is to give to God the free expression of one’s heart. It is done spontaneously without regard to what is required by forces outside oneself. It is to love God. And to do that all one’s life. To ask how one can do this all one’s life is already to miss the point. It is to gather together all things in the love of God, so that the varied and wonder filled life created by God is given in praise of the Creator. Such action points to both the Shema: “Hear of Israel: The Lord is your God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might” (Deut. 6: 4-5) and Jesus’ summation of all the commandments by affirming love of God and love of neighbor. (Mark 12: 31).

Last but not least is the ground breaking affirmation that our reflections give God pleasure, “…as much as Yahweh gives me.” In one simple verse, without much fanfare, the Psalmist excludes the possibility that God is so perfect that God is unaffected by mere human beings. God, who created all things, takes pleasure in the wonders of the world, knows and grieves our sufferings, and rejoices when we rejoice. You matter to this God.

Psalm 104 is like a wakeup call, but one needs some time to comprehend it with heart and mind. This world is not all there is. We are not alone, forced to find whatever meaning we can in more material things or by abandoning them altogether? I suspect the writer of this Psalm knew people who lived and worked in a world where God did not matter, or just as scary, never dreamed of finding goodness or meaning in this world. Here is the writer’s response. There is no holding back or fear of unanswered questions. In our time, when secularism crowds out reference to God, or references to God seem pointless, these words are a great example of middle speech. Indeed, singing and playing for God might be most appropriate for mean times.

Love and Justice

By Peter Schmiechen

On October 25, 2024

In Family, Grace, Love, Politics, Theology

In 1961 my wife, Jan, and I joined CORE, the Congress of Racial Equality. We were 23 and I was in seminary in St. Louis. Core was committed to breaking down the walls of segregation. The organizing committee consisted of about ten people, holding meetings Sunday evenings. They were all professional people, older than we were. One young man by the name of Clay later became a U.S. Congressman. We didn’t know much about the racial problems in St. Louis or about how to change things. So we listened. I was especially interested in the interplay between theory and strategy.

Mainline Protestants had developed a consensus about the priority of love. Love can be defined in many ways, from satisfying our needs to love of another or God without regard for oneself. Given the priority of Jesus giving his life for service of God and neighbor, Protestants leaned toward thinking of the highest form of love as self-sacrifice for God and others.

But how does love as self-sacrifice relate to the struggles of justice which involve conflicting self-interests and struggles of power, or even restraining evil doers to protect the defenseless? And of course, many wanted to know how such self-sacrificing love related to the clash of national interests which demanded citizens to join military action against another state. One solution was to argue that the church was bound by the standard of love, while the state was obligated and permitted to use power to resist evil and achieve justice. But that left some questions. For example, were believers as Christians obligated to be pacifists? Or, could Christians utilize power in politics or in the pursuit of justice in society? My Father, a pastor, leaned strongly toward pacifism, although he supported WWII. Yet he did not know what to make of political action, which routinely involved power. His caution also extended to the direct action programs in the civil rights movement. As a result, the split between love and justice involved theoretical issues and personal decisions.

In the face of this impasse, Reinhold Niebuhr had presented a bold alternative. He declared Christians must chose both: love as self-sacrifice was indeed the highest ethical standard but Christians were also obligated to pursue justice and protect the defenseless. But here’s the catch: In most cases, justice in this world can only be achieved with various levels of coercion. This was obvious for Niebuhr in WWII, but long before that he discovered that achieving justice in social struggles involved some form of coercion, as in the case of removing the practices of segregation. Then, having shocked all his liberal religious friends by arguing some degree of coercion is permitted, he turned and argued that non-violent coercion was morally and practically superior to violent coercion.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. took this idea and developed a strategy for change, based on non-violent coercion. Other groups, such as CORE, followed in developing effective strategies. In our small group meetings we were asked to think about applying non-violent force to change segregation. This meant we would interrupt business at “Whites Only” lunch counters at Woolworth’s, but not do physical harm to people or property and not respond in word or act with violence if something happened to us. We were also told that we could be arrested. That caused us some pause. We had never been arrested and we had no idea what effect such would have on Jan teaching in a public school or my being in seminary. We knew that our parents would not be pleased about our getting arrested, or even just participating. After weeks of discussion and soul searching we decided to go ahead.

As I recall, the sit in succeeded in disrupting business as usual at the lunch counter. Some white people were not very happy and said so. A reporter took our names and we were listed the next day in the newspaper. But no one got arrested. This of course was small stuff compared to the sit-ins and demonstrations that would come across the south where demonstrators were beaten and some were killed. Soon the City Council introduced a proposal to require public places to be open to all people. This brought an interesting twist. At the CORE meeting prior to the vote, someone asked by anyone knew a respected member of the Council. To everyone’s surprise, the student in the back row (me) raised his hand and I was asked to call him. He was a member of the church my Father had serviced in St. Louis. But I had last seen him when I was 8 years old. Somewhat nervous I called him and we had a good talk and he said he would think about it. He voted for the change. Somehow, his own moral compass and his friendship to his pastor prompted him to reverse course. Even in the rough and tough politics of City Hall, love and friendship still displayed great power. We continued to be a part of the group until we went off to the east for further study.

During that time, I heard Dr. King in St. Louis. One statement stuck with me: he said he was not asking us to love black people but to refrain from lynching them. That always reminded me that the issue was not an attempt to suddenly reach the highest level of moral achievement (loving one another, or the white fear of intermarriage) but justice as freedom from violent and repressive practices. Segregation was and is a form of terrorism because it devalues some people. It is state sponsored violence. Those that deny that sin can be embedded in the social practices and laws of society need a history lesson. People were suffering and dying. Right then. So what were we going to do about it? Appeals to love seldom did much to change systemic racism and violence. Dr. King offered an alternative: An incremental plea based on a non-violent strategy to reduce violence against blacks and facilitate the possibility of living together. Now this may not sound like much, but back then it was a huge step forward.

There was no doubt that non-violent coercion was a use of force. At that lunch counter we prevented people from eating there. The sit in took money away from waitresses and Woolworth’s. We could claim it was not violent but it still was coercion. Was it justifiable? For Dr. King (and Niebuhr) it was justifiable in light of the suffering and threat to life. Read Dr. King’s Letter from Birmingham Jail to get a sense of his deep disappointment when religious leaders told him he should be patient. Patience and appeals to ethics had not changed much. The same can be said when “thoughts and prayers” are extended to the victims of gun violence today, or when only condolences are offered to women denied medical relief by force in the face of rape and incest. The disregard for suffering knows no bounds. That is why Dr. King sought a third alternative of non-violent coercion in the cause of justice. It is less than self-sacrifice, though many have been sacrificed in the process. Acts of non-violent coercion are a form of justice that spares us the terrible consequences of violence and perhaps embodies the hope of reconciling love. In spite of all the resistance and suffering, even Dr. King could dream.