Not the Kingdom You Were Expecting

Some days, there's a man with a sign standing on the southeast corner of the city hall lawn, where the road leading to my house dead-ends at Route 66. Sometimes, his sign alleges that abortion is murder  and sometimes it proclaims that Jesus is the only way to be saved from eternal damnation, but last week it was telling me to repent, because the Kingdom of God is near.

"The Kingdom of God is near," we are told. The words sound strange. From the perspective of a political science student living in a representative democracy in the early-21st century, a kingdom doesn't necessarily sound like a good thing. The word kingdom conjures up all kinds of images of brutal tyrants and plagues and little thatched huts. It doesn't sound like the kind of place where I'd want to live. Maybe "kingdom" doesn't mean what we think it does.

In Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52, we are confronted with a laundry list of parables explaining what this kingdom is all about. It's unlikely that Jesus really said all of these in one sitting, so we can think of this as a "Greatest Hits" list that the gospel writer put together. The parables may not have been meant to go together, but the picture they paint is of a kingdom that is very strange indeed — not at all like the kingdom we heard about in Sunday School.

In the first of these parables, Jesus says, "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of seeds, but when it has grown, it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches."

A mustard seed? Really? Jesus' audience must have thought they heard him wrong. When you think of a plant that you would use to represent a mighty kingdom, you think of something large and majestic like an oak or a cedar, not the mustard plant. In Jesus' day, mustard was a weed, and a scrawny one at that. If left to its own devices, it would consume your field. So, the Kingdom of Heaven is a weed. Hmm.

In the second parable, the Kingdom of Heaven is compared to "yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened." So, now the Kingdom of Heaven is a microorganism that looks dormant most of the time, but under the right conditions will disappear entirely, leaving only its effects visible. Curiouser and curiouser.

These are all strange ways of describing a kingdom, but Jesus isn't done yet. Skipping ahead a little in the text brings us to Matthew 13:44-52. Here, he fires off three parables in rapid succession. It's enough to leave you reeling. The Kingdom of Heaven is a treasure hidden in a field that someone finds, reburies, and sells everything they have to purchase the field. The Kingdom of Heaven is also like a merchant who sells everything he has to own just one pearl. The Kingdom of Heaven is also a net that catches fish of every kind, bringing them to shore to be sorted.

Never once does Jesus describe the kingdom of his father in the terms of an earthly kingdom. There is no ruler and no subjects in a traditional sense. No palaces, no walls, no armies standing guard. To think of the kingdom in those terms is to limit God, who far surpasses our puny abilities to understand the nature of the universe.

What then, is the Kingdom we hear so much about in church and on street corners? What is this paradoxical realm that Jesus is describing?

The Kingdom is a living thing — an organism that is invisible  but recognizable through what it creates. The Kingdom is hidden; buried, and must be uncovered; unleashed. The Kingdom draws everyone in, making no distinction between the differences we perceive. The Kingdom makes you desperate, drives you to leave everything you have so you can be a part of it. The Kingdom is insidious; a weed that takes over and spreads to consume everything. The Kingdom sounds impossible, but it is here and it is now. It is all around us and it is in us. The Kingdom is beyond our comprehension.

This is the Kingdom as it is, but not the kingdom we were expecting. It is dynamic and powerful. It is inescapable. The Kingdom of God isn't near: It's here. It's been here all along.

Minneapolis: The Right Wrong Man for the Job

In high school, I was not part of my church's youth group. I didn't exactly believe in God in those days. I was never confirmed and I certainly didn't attend any big Lutheran youth events. I was skeptical of the born-again mentality and the "rah-rah Jesus" crowd and I still am. So, imagine my surprise when I received a phone call from a beloved former pastor asking me to be part of the creative team for the 2012 ELCA Youth Gathering in New Orleans. Now, imagine my surprise when I considered the offer and said, "yes."

Next summer, some 37,000 high school-aged Lutherans will descend on the city of New Orleans for a week of spiritual excitement. And I, of all people, am helping to shape their experience. It blows my mind that I am currently sitting in a hotel room just south of Minneapolis, considering how to welcome and engage that many young people. The people in charge must not have heard about me.

I shouldn't make assumptions about the people who attend these gatherings and what they experience. From what I heard, the experience is powerful, even transformative. That's a lot of pressure being on the planning side of things.

Yet, I find my biases disappearing. The other members of the team come from all walks of Lutheranism across the country and are committed to making this an event that fires people up without being corny; excites people without being elitist. I hope that my unique perspective — as an outsider, as a doubter, as a Christian who hasn't quite figured out the Jesus thing — will help make this event profound and grounded in the realities of faith instead of what one member of our team called "cotton candy faith" (ie. mostly air).

The theme of the Gathering is "Citizens with the Saints," taken from Paul's letter to the early church in Ephesus. In Ephesians 2:14-20, Paul (or a later writer heavily influenced by the Pauline tradition) writes:

"For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, so that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone."

 In this piece of Scripture, I see so much potential. Here, we as a community admit that we are broken and split, but reconciled through Jesus' death. We have been outcasts and outsiders, but God has taken us in and given us citizenship. We have become members of the family.

In the next few days, the creative team will wrestle with how to bring this Scripture to life for tens of thousands of teenagers. The challenge excites me and I am eager to contribute in my own small way to the discussion. The future of the church rests with the youth and it is my honor to help guide that future through what these students see, hear, and feel at this gathering.

To look at my past, I would appear to be the wrong person for this job, but Christ has broken down the dividing wall and made me a citizen of a new nation. With God guiding me this weekend, I think I might just be the right wrong person for the job.

How Do We Punish Evil?

Medieval depiction of Charon ferrying souls to Hell, from Dante's Divine Comedy.

I watched the clock on Thursday morning, waiting for 11:11 am, when I knew a man was going to die. Richard Bible, 49, of Flagstaff, was executed by the State of Arizona by lethal injection and I was unsure about how I felt about it.

I spent the morning reading articles, trying to form an opinion. Bible had been on Death Row for more than 20 years, after being convicted of the molestation and murder of a 9-year-old girl in 1988. People were saying that justice was finally being served.

People like Bible make me sick. I can't imagine what could possess someone to commit such horrific crimes. I don't know if it there really is such a thing as evil, but if it exists, it must take the form of rapists and murderers. A little girl had been tortured and brutally killed. I can understand why people were calling for blood, for revenge, for justice.

And yet, at 11:11 am, I took a moment to say a short prayer. I wasn't asking for God to forgive this man or excuse his crimes. I prayed for his family and for the family of his victim, who had suffered for 23 years. And I asked God if this was right. Should we govern the world we are here to take care of on a system of "an eye for an eye?"

In Exodus 21:12, the law given to Moses explicitly states "Whoever strikes a person mortally shall be put to death." In Exodus 21:23-24, it is decreed that "If any harm follows, you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot." The law is clear and the punishment is severe, as it is today.

Yet, Jesus appears to contradict this, saying in his Sermon on the Mount, "You have heard that it was said, 'And eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also" (Matthew 5:38-39). Does Jesus really want us to be passive and do nothing when we're harmed? Wouldn't that just lead to a world where those who follow Jesus' teachings are oppressed and those who practice evil are free to do as they please?

Like so much of what Jesus says, this just feels wrong. Our judicial system operates on the basis of punishment. If you kill someone, the system kills you. A life for a life. People like Bible shouldn't be allowed to go free. It makes sense to punish them, but it won't return Jennifer Wilson. It won't replace her and it won't free her family of the anguish I'm sure they still feel over her loss.

I feel a sense of relief when men like Bible are punished. It feels like balance has been restored and yet, I can't revel in the death of a human being. I feel spiritually dirty when I catch myself thirsting for vengeance — like I'm cheering at the Coliseum, hoping to see a man's blood spilled.

I'm beyond confused. On the one hand, I think Bible got exactly what he deserved. On the other, I know that Jesus' way is one of love and grace for people who don't deserve it. Was the state justified in sentencing Bible to death? Am I right to feel good about it? Is this a fair exchange for the life of a 9-year-old that was cut short?

What am I supposed to believe, as a Christian-in-progress? How am I supposed to feel?