The Little Ones Were Crawling Into A Strange Glowing Ooze...

Yup, all from the same cosmic rays!

If you prefer your science fiction hard, look away now!  But I've always thought that the origin stories of comic book superheroes (and supervillains for that matter) are really interesting.  They might not be very scientific—heck, Stan Lee freely admits that he has no idea what a mutant or gamma radiation is but that he recognized that they sounded pretty cool—but I think it's fun to look at all the different ways super powers have been bestowed on characters over the years.  Because the last thing we need is more than one character having the same origin story, right?
Well...  I suppose there's the Fantastic Four, all gaining their powers from the same cosmic rays.

But that's not my favorite shared origin story!

My favorite shared origin story has to do with the Marvel character, Daredevil.  As a young man, Matt Murdock saw that a blind man crossing the street was about to be run down by a speeding truck.  He rushed into traffic and tackled the man as the truck swerved to avoid them both.  In the ensuing traffic accident a container of radioactive material is knocked loose from the truck, striking Murdock in the head, blinding him and heightening his remaining senses to superhuman levels.

Hey!  Where'd that cylinder go?

Ah, but what happened to the canister after it hit Murdock between the eyes?  Well...  it's not official because the heroes I'm about mention originated in an indie comic, not Marvel.  But...  if you look at the origin story of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, you'll see young man save a blind man from being run down in the street by a truck.  In the ensuing traffic accident a container of glowing green ooze (hey, that has to be radioactive, doesn't it?) strikes the young man in the head before bouncing off the pavement and striking a glass bowl with four turtles inside from the hands of a young boy.

Should someone call HAZMAT?  No?

Turtles, shards of glass—and a canister of glowing green ooze all end up in the sewer together.  The ooze causes the turtles to mutate, becoming humanoid, along with their rat ninjutsu-master.  So that one container of ooze is responsible for the origins of five (six if you include Splinter) heroes who can trace their origins back to that one container.

That's even more insidious than the cosmic rays that brought about the Fantastic Four!

There's something about the origin stories that remind me of the call narratives in the gospels—especially the more insidious origin stories, like the cosmic rays and the green ooze.  I think it has something to do with the way the disciples are suddenly, irrevocably changed.  I mean, think about it, Jesus is strolling along the shoreline and sees a couple of fishermen.  And he just kind of goes, "Hey you, yeah you, follow me!"

And they do.

They walk away from their jobs, their livelihoods, their families and follow Jesus.  And you have to wonder why, don't you?  In fact, many, many words have been written about the disciples and why they answered the call of Jesus and what that all means.  More and more I'm inclined to approach this story the same way that I approach Genesis.  The gospel writers aren't primarily telling a story about the disciples.  They're telling a story about God and God's relationship with humanity.  And so the sudden shift in the disciples shouldn't be any more surprising than Matt Murdock gaining super-senses or four turtles becoming crime-fighting ninja.

Because God's presence in our lives is even more insidious than green ooze!

Use your power for good,
Rev. Josh
012015




The scripture lessons for January 25th—The 3rd Sunday After Epiphany—are:

Jonah 3:1-5, 10

The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time, saying, "Get up, go to Nineveh, that great city, and proclaim to it the message that I tell you." So Jonah set out and went to Nineveh, according to the word of the Lord. Now Nineveh was an exceedingly large city, a three days' walk across. Jonah began to go into the city, going a day's walk. And he cried out, "Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!"

And the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast, and everyone, great and small, put on sackcloth. When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.

Psalm 62:5-12

For God alone my soul waits in silence,
   for my hope is from God.

God alone is my rock
 and my salvation, my fortress;
I shall not be shaken.

On God rests my deliverance and my honor;
 my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

Trust in God at all times, O people;
 pour out your heart before God;
 who is a refuge for us.

Those of low estate are but a breath,
 those of high estate are a delusion;
in the balances they go up;
 they are together lighter than a breath.

Put no confidence in extortion,
 and set no vain hopes on robbery;
if riches increase, do not set your heart on them.

Once God has spoken; twice have I heard this:
 that power belongs to God,
and steadfast love belongs to you, O God.

For you repay to all
 according to their work.

1 Corinthians 7:29-31

I mean, brothers and sisters, the appointed time has grown short; from now on, let even those who have wives be as though they had none, and those who mourn as though they were not mourning, and those who rejoice as though they were not rejoicing, and those who buy as though they had no possessions, and those who deal with the world as though they had no dealings with it. For the present form of this world is passing away.

Mark 1:14-20

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news." As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea — for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, "Follow me and I will make you fish for people." And immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.

The Lidless Eye

Maybe it's the poet in me, but I love the Psalms.  And I think my very favorite is in the lectionary for Sunday, Psalm 139.  That's the one that starts:

O God, you have searched me and known me.
  You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.

Maybe it's kind of funny that it's my favorite.  After all, that psalm kind of makes God sound like Sauron and his all-seeing Eye.  Or maybe Big Brother watching you.

Or this classic restroom prank!

But that's not how I read the 139th Psalm.  I actually find it comforting, not creepy!  For example, when I have the opportunity to pray with a group through the sharing of joys and concerns we frequently respond to each little prayer with words like, "God of Grace, hear our prayer."  When the people are done voicing their prayers out loud I like to end with this thought, "The Psalmist tells us that God knows what we are going to say before the words can even form on our tongue.  And so we know.  We know that God has heard our prayers, both those spoken out loud (or typed into Second Life chat) and those spoken in the silence of our hearts..."  I don't know about you, but I find that comforting.

But that's the pastoral perspective more than a geek perspective.

When I look at Psalm 139 as a geek, I'm struck by the idea of labels—of identity.  The word "geek" probably has Germanic roots, "geck" meaning "fool" or "freak."  The word eventually came to be synonymous with a certain kind of freak show act—one where people did insane things like bite the heads off of live animals.  (I don't condone that, by the way.)  I don't know how it came to mean somebody who loved something so much—be it comic books or video games, or the work of J.R.R. Tolkien—that they're considered socially retarded.

But the first person to watch someone wax poetic about the work of Jack Kirby and say, "What a geek!" can't have meant it as a compliment.

And despite the whole geek chic phenomenon, that pejorative still at the heart of what it means to be a geek.  I know I've quoted her before, but I still think that Felicia Day said it best:  

The substance of what it means to be a geek is essentially someone who’s brave enough to love something against judgment.  The heart of being a geek is a little bit of rejection.

So, what happens when it's you that people are comparing to the freak that can only make a living biting the heads off animals?  What happens when it's you that Julie Smith is accusing of being:

...a bright young man turned inward, poorly socialized, who felt so little kinship with his own planet that he routinely traveled to the ones invented by his favorite authors, who thought of that secret, dreamy place his computer took him to as cyberspace—somewhere exciting, a place more real than his own life, a land he could conquer, not a drab teenager's room in his parents' house.

The only positive thing you can do is stand up and define yourself as something worthwhile.  As someone who grew up Christian, I was able to do that by turning to scripture like Genesis 1:27 or Psalm 139 and define myself as created, declared good, and unconditionally loved by God.  So when I read this psalm, I didn't see Sauron or Big Brother.  It's more like reading that my best friend and biggest fan will always, always be there.  It's like hearing the truth of Fred Rodgers's ministry:  God loves you just the way you are.

That truth made it so much easier for me to do what every geek ends up doing.  You see that people are going to judge you for loving what you love.  And you love it anyway.  And then you stand up and say, "Yeah, I'm a geek.  And I'm proud of it.  And I don't care if you judge me for it."

God loves you just the way you are.
Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
011315

The Lord forgives everything, but I'm just a prophet…

I find the ministry of Paul as it is revealed in the Book of Acts and in his own letters strangely comforting.  It's full of trials and tribulations and horrid church politics and bitter arguments within the church leadership...  I mean, Christians have had problems being the church together from its inception.  And I find that oddly comforting.

I mean, there are so many differing traditions and interpretations within post-modern Christianity that I think we'll always have disagreements.  Reading about the very similar disagreements in the early church somehow gives me hope.

Take Baptism for example.  Even Protestants and Catholics agree that it's a sacrament, but there are all kinds of things about Baptism that we can argue about.  Some Christians believe that we are born sinful, and therefore infants must be Baptized ASAP or risk going to hell.  Other Christians believe that Baptism involves an important personal commitment, and therefore you shouldn't be Baptized until you're old enough to make such an important decision for yourself.  In most traditions, once you've been Baptized, you're Baptized forever, but the Mormons will re-baptize you to show a commitment to their movement or as part of a healing ritual.

So I find it interesting when I read in the Book of Acts that Paul once found a group of Christian converts in Ephesus and asked them about their experience of the Holy Spirit when they became members.  And they said, "This is the first we've heard of the Holy Spirit."

So Paul asked them, "Well, what kind of Baptism did you have, then?"

Sounds like a legitimate question to me!  And to them, too, apparently, because they immediately said, "The kind that John the Baptist did."

And Paul told them that John baptized for the remission of sins and repentance, but that he also taught the people that should believe in the One who would come after him--in other words, to believe in Jesus.  And so Paul Baptized them in the name of Jesus, and the Holy Spirit descended on them and they did all the awesome and powerful Holy Spirit things.  And all was cool.

As a geek, I look at that passage from Acts and I can't help but think about the plot of a video game that has the reputation for having one of the best storylines--with one of the best surprises--in the history of gaming.  And while I'm going to do my level best to talk about it in generalities, please consider this a Spoiler Alert:  I intend to talk about Bioshock: Infinite.  If you haven't played it through yet, and you haven't had the plot spoiled yet, proceed with caution!!


Ok, so, one of the most interesting and disturbing things about Bioshock: Infinite for me as a Christian geek is the fact that the difference between our hero and the arch-villain--literally the only difference--is the fact that one of them decided to be Baptized and the other didn't.

And it's the hero who did not.

Both hero and villain were soldiers.  Both were a part of the horrifying brutality of the Wounded Knee massacre.  But the hero decided to wallow in guilt as he descended into a pit of addiction to alcohol and gambling.  The arch-villain accepted Baptism and was reborn as a megalomaniacal despot.  It's a classic story of absolute power corrupts absolutely--and yet the turning point in the character's development is... Baptism.

Which begs the question, what kind of Baptism?

We don't know much from the game about what comes after, but the pastor who Baptized the arch-villain appears to be an itinerant frontier type.  There was certainly no education about what Baptism means before it was offered, and I suspect that he was left to his own devices afterwords.  Jesus is not mentioned once, unless you count a reference to "the blood of the Lamb."  Every question leading up to the event is about sin, including the reference to the Lamb.

So...  it's a Baptism for the remission of sin, but not in the name of Jesus.  It sounds like what Paul describes as the Baptism of John--the kind that doesn't include the Holy Spirit.

What I'm trying to say is that at best, the Baptism he was offered wiped clean the personal sins up until that point.  And his response to that grace was to use it to rationalize even greater evil acts in the future.

That's not what Baptism is supposed to be.  That's not the proper response to the grace of God.  And it's certainly not a sign that the Spirit is present.  And it does not fairly represent what Christianity is supposed to be about.

Ironically, the hero, who refused Baptism, more closely represents what being a Christian is like.  It's a journey.  One where you constantly try to live up to the grace of God--and live down all those things that you have to be guilty about.

Baptism isn't just about cleaning your sins, in other words, it's about repentance--literally turning away from the bad and back towards the good.

That's really the difference between our hero and our arch-villain.  The hero is repentant and the arch-villain is completely unrepentant.

It really is just that simple.

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
010615

The scripture lessons for January 11th—The 1st Sunday After Epiphany—are:


Genesis 1:1-5
In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.

Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

Psalm 29
Ascribe to God, O heavenly beings,
   ascribe to God glory and strength.

Ascribe to God the glory of God's name;
   worship God in holy splendor.

The voice of God is over the waters;
   the God of glory thunders,
God, over mighty waters.

The voice of God is powerful;
   the voice of God is full of majesty.

The voice of God breaks the cedars;
   God breaks the cedars of Lebanon.

God makes Lebanon skip like a calf,
   and Sirion like a young wild ox.

The voice of God flashes forth
   in flames of fire.

The voice of God shakes the wilderness;
   God shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.

The voice of God causes the oaks to whirl,
   and strips the forest bare;
and in God's temple all say, "Glory!"

God sits enthroned over the flood;
   God sits enthroned as ruler forever.

May God give strength to the people!
   May God bless the people with peace!

Acts 19:1-7
While Apollos was in Corinth, Paul passed through the interior regions and came to Ephesus, where he found some disciples. He said to them, "Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you became believers?" They replied, "No, we have not even heard that there is a Holy Spirit." Then he said, "Into what then were you baptized?" They answered, "Into John's baptism." Paul said, "John baptized with the baptism of repentance, telling the people to believe in the one who was to come after him, that is, in Jesus." On hearing this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. When Paul had laid his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came upon them, and they spoke in tongues and prophesied — altogether there were about twelve of them.

Mark 1:4-11
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

Fear Is The Path To The Dark Side

Epiphany is one of my favorite Christian holidays.  It's also one of those words that sounds like something only a sesquipedalian would love.  But the truth is that without "epiphany" you'd have to spend a lot of time describing a certain kind of thought and feeling.  It's a revelation, a new thought, a moment when something becomes clear.  But it's not a gradual thing, not slow, dim realization.  It's a eureka moment.  A lightening bolt from on high.  It's a light bulb flashing to life above your head.

The Christian holiday of the same name is when we celebrate all those sudden, unexpected realizations in the story of Jesus—all the epiphanies that Jesus, son of Mary was and is much, much more than his humble beginnings would seem to indicate.

While Epiphany celebrates all of those revelations, we usually focus on the arrival of the Magi with their three gifts and their intention to give the newborn King of the Jews homage.  Nothing quite says, "This toddler is a Very Important Person" than having foreign dignitaries show up on your doorstep with lavish gifts and promises of fealty and service!

The political setting for the story always reminds me of Star Wars.  I can't help drawing parallels between Caesar and Palpatine, between Herod and Vader.  Imagine if you will that the Galactic Empire is not the only empire out there in that far, far away galaxy.  Imagine that an ancient enemy of the Old Republic still borders the Empire.

Now, imagine that this bordering empire has their own group of Force sensitives.  An order with the same political and religious clout as the Jedi—or the Sith.

Furthermore, imagine that a small delegation of that order suddenly drop out of hyperspace within sight of the Death Star.  They dock and ask for an audience with Lord Darth Vader—and when they get it, they say that they have sensed a disturbance in the Force indicating the birth of the Chosen One, the true King of Naboo.  And then they ask Vader where they can find the child so they can promise their political support to him.

Can you imagine?

So Vader accesses all the old information—ancient Jedi prophecies concerning the birth of the Chosen One—and tells the delegation which system the Chosen One is supposed to be from.  And then Vader asks them to come back and tell him where they find the Chosen One, so he can swear his service to the child, too.

The delegation goes and finds the child.  They lavish expensive gifts on him and pay him homage.  Then, warned in a vision, they avoid any "Imperial entanglements" on the way home.  Warned in another vision, those responsible for the welfare of Luke and Leia spirit them away—Luke to Tatooine, of course, and Leia to Alderaan.

When the delegation doesn't return to the Death Star, Vader does what any dread Lord of the Sith would do when faced with such a threat to their power.  He takes a Star Destroyer full of Imperial Stormtroopers to the star system in question and he kills every male child under the age of two.  Problem solved.

Ok, so, this is where the metaphor breaks down.  Luke Skywalker is no Jesus Christ.  Although, in the end, Luke defeats the Emperor through non-violence if you think about it.

Speaking of non-violence, let me share a little epiphany I had about, well, Epiphany.  The Magi had a great deal of wealth with them.  And the country was full people who'd been taxed into the ground—and then when they couldn't pay, their land, their homes would be taken away.  What I'm trying to say is that, warned in a vision that Herod was an evil bastard, the Magi probably could have raised an army and started a war.

But that's not what God wanted.  God wanted them to avoid a conflict with Herod and simply go home by another way.

And I think that says something important about both God and Jesus.  Don't you?

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
123014



The scripture lessons for January 4th—Epiphany Sunday—are:

Isaiah 60:1-6

Arise, shine; for your light has come,
    and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
For darkness shall cover the earth,
   and thick darkness the peoples;
but the Lord will arise upon you,
   and his glory will appear over you.
Nations shall come to your light,
   and kings to the brightness of your dawn.
Lift up your eyes and look around;
   they all gather together, they come to you;
your sons shall come from far away,
   and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses' arms.
Then you shall see and be radiant;
   your heart shall thrill and rejoice,
because the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you,
   the wealth of the nations shall come to you.
A multitude of camels shall cover you,
   the young camels of Midian and Ephah;
   all those from Sheba shall come.
They shall bring gold and frankincense,
   and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.

Psalm 72: 1-7, 10-14

Give the ruler your justice, O God,
   and your righteousness to a ruler's heir.
May the ruler judge your people with righteousness,
   and your poor with justice.
May the mountains yield prosperity for the people,
   and the hills, in righteousness.
May the ruler defend the cause of the poor of the people,
   give deliverance to the needy,
   and crush the oppressor.
May the ruler live while the sun endures,
   and as long as the moon, throughout all generations.
May the ruler be like rain that falls on the mown grass,
   like showers that water the earth.
In the ruler's days may righteousness flourish
   and peace abound, until the moon is no more.
May the monarchs of Tarshish and of the isles
   render the ruler tribute,
may the monarchs  of Sheba and Seba bring gifts.
May all monarchs fall down before the ruler,
   all nations give the ruler service.
For the ruler delivers the needy when they call,
   the poor and those who have no helper.
The ruler has pity on the weak and the needy,
   and saves the lives of the needy.
From oppression and violence the ruler redeems their life;
   and precious is their blood in the ruler's sight.

Ephesians 3:1-12

This is the reason that I Paul am a prisoner for Christ Jesus for the sake of you Gentiles— for surely you have already heard of the commission of God's grace that was given to me for you, and how the mystery was made known to me by revelation, as I wrote above in a few words, a reading of which will enable you to perceive my understanding of the mystery of Christ. In former generations this mystery was not made known to humankind, as it has now been revealed to his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit: that is, the Gentiles have become fellow-heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.

Of this gospel I have become a servant according to the gift of God's grace that was given to me by the working of his power. Although I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given to me to bring to the Gentiles the news of the boundless riches of Christ, and to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things; so that through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places. This was in accordance with the eternal purpose that he has carried out in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have access to God in boldness and confidence through faith in him.

Matthew 2:1-12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

'And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
   are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
   who is to shepherd my people Israel.'"

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

More Christmas Power for Santa!

My father is Santa Clause.  My mother tried to hide it from us when my brother and I were children, but it's true.  Why else would the tags on our Christmas gifts from Santa be in her handwriting?

But my father is Santa.  Everyone recognizes him.  Even in the middle of the summer, when he's working part time at the Aquarium, small children approach him with wide eyes and ask him "What are you doing here?"  He tells them that the reindeer like to come down to visit with the penguins—after all, penguins are from the southern hemisphere!  Even adults recognize my father as Santa Clause.  I once saw a photograph of my father posted by a friend of a friend of a friend (of a friend, maybe) on Facebook.  Somebody had whipped out their phone and taken a surreptitious pic of him at a gas station because they were so amused to see Santa pumping gas!

Don't get me wrong, I know that he's not the only one out there.  But it's also more than a simple physical resemblance.  There is a very real, "Yes, Virginia," sense in which my father is Santa Clause.

I think maybe a big part of it is that he believes in magic.  "Look into the eyes of a child who believes--truly believes," he'll challenge you, "and try to tell me that magic doesn't exist!"

Magic.  Magic is one of those sticking points between geekdom and certain branches of Christianity.  Certain, loud branches.  And of course the louder those branches yell, the more they drive away my geek brothers and sisters.  Which is a shame on so many levels.

So what are those branches yelling about?  Well, it all comes out of a conservative, literalist interpretation of the Bible.  There are several places in the Hebrew scriptures that prohibit divination, speaking with spirits, and casting spells.  As I understand it, the Hebrew word used in the rules literally means "to whisper," but modern English translations either use the word "necromancy" or simply "magic."

But what was the purpose of those rules?  The purpose was to distinguish Judaism from other religions in the area, religions that regularly made use of divinations, conversing with spirits, and/or spellcasting.  Everyone believed in all of those things, but in order to be Jewish, you didn't make use of them.

Then, of course, there's the New Testament passage concerning Simon the Magician.  In that time and place magicians were kind of like snake oil salesmen—they made their living performing deeds of power.  The same kinds of deeds that made Jesus famous, except, of course that Jesus (and his disciples) did those things for free. Simon witnessed the power of the Holy Spirit.  He was so impressed that he approached Philip and offered to pay him to lay on hands and impart the Holy Spirit!  Philip told him "no," admonishing that Simon was looking at it all wrong.  Money isn't the proper motivation!

Conservative, literalist Christians look at those passages and read the word "magic" and conclude that they must abhor anything that even makes a passing reference to magic or—God forbid—portrays magic as a good thing.  These are the people who see Dungeons & Dragons as demonic and Harry Potter as "of the Satan."  Personally, I think that's taking it a little too far, even if I did lean toward a more literal interpretation of scripture!

I don't see any harm in D&D or Harry Potter, clearly.  I certainly don't think that playing the cleric is the same thing as worshiping Baal or that admiring Harry's moral fiber will seduce me away from the Christian faith.

What it comes down to is that Call Lightening and Accio are no more real than a Tribble.  They aren't magic to me.  I think it was Doug Henning who differentiated between the illusion—the trick—and that moment of pure amazement that comes just before you try to figure out "How did he do that?"  That moment of pure amazement—that's magic.

Or the look in the eyes of a child who truly believes in Santa as they talk with my father.  That's magic, too.

I find that Christmas still holds that kind of magic for me—not so much Santa (sorry, Dad) but rather the holy parts of the holiday.  The story of the Incarnation, the birth of the Messiah, gives me that kind of amazement.  I still get the shivers when I hear Linus VanPelt tell Charlie Brown what Christmas is all about.  I find that I still have a pure, childlike love in my heart when I hear The Ghost of Christmas Present singing that wherever you find love, it feels like Christmas.

Merry Christmas,
Be good to each other,
RevJosh
122514

Simply A True Myth

In an earlier post I talked a little bit about a reoccurring theme that pops up in many hero journeys—the idea that an ordinary or even unvalued character turns out to be the most important person in the story.  I talked about how it's a great place for everyone who's ever known rejection to relate to the hero and feel some of that same importance for themselves.  And let's face it, who among us has never known rejection?  Who doesn't want to be the Chosen One every once in a while?

Harry Potter living with the Dursleys.  Scrawny young Arthur as a Page known as "Wart."  Garian hidden away on Faldor's farm and raised by "Aunt Pol."  Luke Skywalker growing up on a moisture farm on Tatooine—I mean really, that's as close to an actual dirt farmer as you can get, right?

There's something that kind of rings hollow about the geek version of that theme, though.  The idea is that maybe the little ol' ostracized geek is actually vitally important because Harry was abused and look at him, he's the Chosen One!  But when push comes to shove, most of us aren't actually holding our breath for an owl to deliver our invitation into the wider wizarding world.  (Those of us who are actually so mentally ill and delusional as to have lost our grip on reality are actually very few and far-between—but that's a post for another day, perhaps.)


What I'm trying to say is that if this aspect of the hero journey is all that we have to lift ourselves up, we're in trouble.  Yes, it's awesome to watch Harry go from the Boy Who Lived Under the Stairs to the most important wizard in the world.  But it doesn't mean that I'm important.

Unless it turns out that I'm actually a powerful wizard.



Nope.

But check this out:  Once upon a time there was a little boy who loved to read.  In fact, he may very well grown up to be the most well-read man in human history.  He placed a great deal of value in mythology--in hero journeys.  And then, one day, a couple of friends took him on a long walk and convinced him that Christianity is the world's most important myth because it actually happened.

And that's how C.S. Lewis converted to Christianity.

The point I'm trying to make is that when I read the scripture and see that God sends an angel to the epitome of normal and unimportant—a young lady named Mary—it's actually very important.  Not just to the story, but to humanity.

You see, God could surely have saved humanity from on high, and all on God's own.  But God chose to involve Mary.  God chose to become human in the person of Jesus.

God chose to involve us in our own salvation.

And that doesn't just mean Jesus.  It doesn't just mean Mary.  It means that we all can and should be involved.

What I'm trying to say is that every one of us—even little ol' ostracized geeks—really are important.  We can't just sit around and wait for God to save us.  Apparently God doesn't save us without our own involvement.

Everything we do is important.  Because every choice we make either makes the world a little bit better, or a little bit worse.

It really is just that simple.

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
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The scripture lessons for December 21st—The Fourth Sunday of Advent Year B—are:
2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16—Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26—Romans 16:25-27—Luke 1:26-38

The Temple of Nerull

I think that one of the keys to my geek theology is a sense of conversation:  Christianity may have some things to say to geek culture, but geek culture also has some things to say to Christianity.

I try to uplift the fun positive things that they say to each other as well as the challenging things.  And if I'm honest with myself, I've been thinking about what I'm doing in that duality—the uplifting & the challenging.  Or to put it in church language, the pastoral and the prophetic.

The geek perspective on Isaiah 40:3-5 feels like it's on the challenging / prophetic side.

A voice cries out:

‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,

   make straight in the desert a highway for our God. 

Every valley shall be lifted up,

   and every mountain and hill be made low;

the uneven ground shall become level,

   and the rough places a plain. 

Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,

   and all people shall see it together,

   for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.’ 

As a geek, when I read that I can't help but think of a stereotypical Dungeons & Dragons campaign.  The kind that starts with one psychotic death-worshiping cultist in the background, spouting rhetoric from a street corner and ends with the band of intrepid heroes making an all-out assault on their evil subterranean temple.

And it makes me wonder—is that how people see Christians like me?  Is that the prophetic word that geekdom has for Christians?  That ours is a hollow rhetoric barely masking a greater evil?

It's not that great a stretch, I suppose.  One need only look to the Branch Davidians or Heaven's Gate to see where Messianic expectations start looking like barely disguised evil.

There is a prophetic word here for Christianity, but believe it or not, I think that the message is that we've failed at evangelism.

No, really.

I know that the word "Evangelical" has come to be synonymous with a brand of Christianity that's particularly concerned with your salvation.  Which, if we're all honest with ourselves, comes off as simply judgmental to a large portion of the population.  And if judgmental at best and barely disguised evil at worst is the message Christianity is bringing across then we've failed.  Miserably.

Because the message Isaiah is brining us here, is one of hope.  He's speaking to a trampled, ostracized, conquered people.  I started off giving you just Isaiah 40:3-5 to make a point, but a more natural place to start might be with the beginning of the chapter:

Comfort, O comfort my people,
   says your God. 
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
   and cry to her
that she has served her term,
   that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
   double for all her sins. 

A voice cries out:
‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord...

The idea that the Lord is coming isn't supposed to be about judgement in this case—it's more like last week's urge, need for someone to come and fix our broken world.  It's actually a promise that the Lord will come and that when it happens that trampled, ostracized, conquered people will be restored.

Centuries later, when that same people were trampled and conquered by the Romans and kept underfoot with the collusion of their own secular and religious authorities, a man named John came walking up out of the wilderness.  He was a wild man, very much like a street-corner preacher in a sandwich board, with one key difference.

People were listening.

We're talking about a time and a place where a trampled and conquered people yearned, no needed, the Lord to come and save them.  And so people were looking at John and wondering if he was the one who would save them.  Some were even saying that John was actually the prophet, Elijah, resurrected and come to save them from the Romans.

John was clearly a threat.

And so the authorities came and asked John directly, "Who do you think you are?"

And John said, "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness."  If poetry is saying the most you can with the fewest words, John was definitely a poet.  With that one sentence John managed to say two important things.  "I don't claim to be the Messiah who will come to overthrow the Romans," is the first thing.  The second thing is, "But He is coming.  You can count on that."

Yeah, that's right.  John was kind of awesome.  He said what was in his heart, despite the fact that it might make him dangerously unpopular in certain circles.  And you know what?  There's a word for someone who loves something against judgement.  So I'm gonna go ahead and say it:  John was kind of a geek.

More than that, though, the fact that the heart of what it means to be a geek has to do with rejection means that we have a unique ability to know what it's like to feel trampled and conquered.

And so, for me, this message of hope is especially powerful.

And that's why, if the rest of geek culture hasn't received the same message, I say that Christians like me have failed.

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
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The scripture lessons for December 7th—Second Sunday in Advent Year B—are:
Isaiah 40:1-11—Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13—2 Peter 3:8-15a—Mark 1:1-8