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FACING EVIL

A Meditation for the Christian Holy Week

March 30, 2021

At noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). (Mark 15:33-34)

In October, 2001, I had the privilege of being deployed to New York City to assist with the recovery from the September 11 attack on the World Trade Center. One of my responsibilities as a chaplain was to accompany family members to the site where they witnessed for the first time the crude crematorium where their loved ones died. I will never forget the reaction of one woman. A graduate of the University of Berkley in California in the 1960s, she struggled to comprehend the absolute horror of what was in front of her. As she stared at the still smoldering ruins of the Twin Towers she kept saying to herself, over and over: “It’s evil. It’s evil. It’s evil.” It seemed as if she mentally had no category to help her comprehend the awfulness of what she was witnessing.

According to Mark’s description of Jesus’ crucifixion, darkness enveloped the area when Jesus was hanging on the cross. The darkness began at noon- the brightest time of the day—and lasted until 3:00 PM when Jesus finally expired. Was this a solar eclipse? Perhaps, but three hours is a long time for an eclipse. It is better to understand the darkness metaphorically. I’m not suggesting that the darkness wasn’t real; I believe it was. But light and darkness are a universal metaphor for good and evil. Jesus’ words, spoken in Aramaic and recorded for future readers in the original language, reinforce this understanding. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

According to the writer John, God is light; in him there is no darkness at all (I John 1:5). Jesus himself claimed, I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. (John 8:12). Now, the “Light of the World,” the One who had come from God (John 13:3), the Holy One of God (John 6:69), the One who had no sin (I Corinthians 5:21) was now enveloped in darkness, abandoned by God, experiencing the full power of unmitigated evil. The Father, who loves the Son (John 3:35) and confides in Him everything he does (John 5:20) now abandons his Son to face the darkness all by Himself. The special relationship that exists within the Trinitarian Godhead has been ripped apart by the power of evil.

It is impossible to overstate the horror of this text. The horror of the Berkley graduate at the sight of the smoldering World Trade Center ought to be the horror of the believer that dares look at the Savior dying on the cross: “It’s evil. It’s evil. It’s evil.”

The Apostle Paul reminds us, God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (I Corinthians 5:21). The horrible cross from which we turn our gaze away is also a wondrous cross. By his wounds we are healed (Isaiah 53:5).

The wonder of that horrible cross goes beyond our personal. When Christ experienced the full power of evil in that noontime darkness, he was experiencing all the evil of this world. Christ was experiencing the power of evil that motivates terrorists to hijack a plane full of civilians and force it to crash into a skyscraper. He died for the evil that led to slavery in our nation based simply on skin color. He died for the evil of Jim Crow. He died to redeem systemic racism and generational poverty. He died to redeem a world that struggles with global warming. He died for a world that experiences earthquakes, tsunamis, and nuclear meltdowns as happened in Japan on March 11, 2011.

Sometimes the sheer evil in this world overwhelms me. With the Psalmist, I look heavenward and cry, “How long?” My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long? (Psalm 6:3). How long will you defend the unjust and show partiality to the wicked? (Psalm 82:2). How long will the wicked be jubilant? (Psalm 94:3). I long for a world where justice reigns and God’s shalom (peace) is experienced by all. But so often all I see is the darkness of evil. At such times I need to remember that Jesus experienced a darkness deeper than I will ever begin to understand. I need to remember that He faced the full power of demonic evil, alone, on Calvary’s cross. This is the Christian hope. The darkness of the cross is not the final word. Having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross. (Colossians 2:15). The principalities and powers of darkness are not in control of this world. They have been defeated, replaced by an Easter lightening (Matthew 28:3) and a Creation garden (John 20:1-18) where the tomb is empty and tears are dried. The powers of darkness and evil, both individual and social, have been faced head-on and have been defeated. “Hallelujah! What a Savior!”

WINDMILLS AND TORII GATES

February 23, 2021

“Windmills and Torii Gates.” Two massive structures from two very different countries representing two very different cultures Windmills are early factories. They harness the energy of the wind and use it for flood control or for milling grain. Windmills can be found throughout the world, but are often identified with the Dutch. Two thirds of the country of the Netherlands lies below sea level. They used windmills to pump water out of the low farmland and back into the sea. During the Industrial Revolution windmills were replaced by new sources of power, including the steam engine, the internal combustion engine, and electrical power. Windmills have made a comeback in recent years,and travelers may well spot “windmill farms” on their journeys.

Torii gates are unique to Japan and the Shinto religion. They are often found at the entrance to a sacred shrine. They have only one purpose: to separate the sacred from the secular. When a pilgrim walks through a Torii Gate, she enters sacred space. This blog is about the connection between Windmills and Torii Gates. The connection between the secular world of factories and human cultural development (Windmills) and the sacred space of religious belief, faith, and the Divine (Torii Gates). I choose these two symbols because they represent two cultures that have had a formative influence on my life. I was born in Grand Rapids, Michigan, a center of Dutch American culture. I was raised in the Christian Reformed Church, a faith community with deep roots in the Netherlands. Thirty-seven years ago a group of pastors and elders representing this faith community laid their hands on me in a small town in South Dakota, ordaining me into my life’s work as a Christian minister. Dutch Americans, symbolized by the secular Windmill, placed on my shoulders the mantle of representing the sacred.

For twelve years I lived out this vocation in sacred spaces, serving Christian Reformed churches in South Dakota, Michigan, and Texas. Then, at age 39, my life took a dramatic turn. I began living out my spiritual vocation in the secular environment of the United States Navy, where I commissioned to serve as a Chaplain. I was now both ordained and commissioned. My ordination represented my spiritual calling, symbolized by the cross on the left lapel of my uniform. My commission was to live out that vocation in the secular world of the United States Navy, represented by the rank on the right side of my collar. Ordained (sacred) and Commissioned (secular). My task was to bridge the divide between the two, to bring the sacred into the secular spaces of ships, aviation hangers, and the war zone in Iraq.

For twenty years I lived out of this dual identity and responsibility. For seven of those twenty years I was stationed in Japan, land of the Torii Gates. Japanese culture, symbolized by the religious Torii Gate, has also been a formative influence on my life. I am now retired, living in Holland, Michigan, within walking distance of DeZwaan(“the swan”), the oldest authentic, working windmill in the United States. This 300-year-old windmill, which was heavily damaged in World War II, was moved from the Netherlands to Holland Michigan in the 1960s and restored to its previous working condition. Every year in May I enjoy the city’s “Tulip Time” Festival, when tourists come from all over the world to view the massive plantings of these Dutch flowers and enjoy the authentic Dutch dancers in the streets and the Dutch food available in both the restaurants and on the streets.

But I am no longer completely at home in this world where I began my life. My service in the Navy gave me the opportunity to see the world, and to live cross-culturally in Japan. I now live cross-culturally in Holland, Michigan. I am now a citizen of the world. I write from that perspective. I write as a world citizen. I write as someone influenced deeply and appreciative of many cultures, including my own Dutch American culture. I write as someone who was ordained to represent the Christian faith in a multi-faith environment. I write about Windmills and Torii Gates.