Author Archive: Craig

André Trocmé, a genuine protestant

Today, 5 June 2018, marks the anniversary of André Trocmé’s death in 1971.

André and his wife Magda, served Jesus in the French village of Le Chambon for fifteen years. During those years of service their village and parish because known as “the republic of Le Chambon” because of their persistent resistance to the Nazi violence against Jewish people. It is estimated that over 2500 people found safe refuge through their village, as the villagers took seriously their calling to be a city of refuge,” a sanctuary.

 

André was equally concerned for the victims and the perpatrators of violence. Jesus had arrested André’s anger and channeled his passions through deep convictions regarding the sanctity of life and the great value of a soul evidenced through the Cross of Christ. But still, André Trocmé was known as a “dangerous pastor.” Author Phillip Haille, opens a window on the struggle André and the village of Le Chambon faced:

World War II, between the Axis and the Allies, was a public phenomenon; military, journalistic, and governmental reporters made it abundantly available to the public. It impressed itself powerfully and deeply upon the minds of mankind, both during and after the war. The metaphors that descried it have a flamboyant cast: the war itself was a “world war,” with many “heroes”; there were “theaters of war,” and soldiers who participated in major “campaigns” received “battle stars.”

 

No such language applies to what happened in Le Chambon. In fact, words like “war” are inappropriate to describe it, and so are words like “theater,” While the story of Le Chambon was unfolding, it was being recorded nowhere. What was happening was clandestine because the people of Le Chambon had no military power comparable to that of the Nazis occupying force, or comparable to that of the Nazi conquerors. If they had tried to confront their opponents publicly, there would have been no contest, only immediate and total defeat. Secrecy, not military power, was their weapon.

 

The struggle in Le Chambon began and ended in the privacy of people’s homes. Decisions that were turning points in that struggle took place in kitchens, and not with male leaders as the only decision-makers, but often with women centrally involved. A kitchen is a private, intimate place; in it there are no uniforms, no buttons or badges symbolizing public duty or public support. In the kitchen of a modest home only a few people are involved. In Le Chambon only the lives of a few thousand people were changed, compared to the scores of millions of human lives directly affected by the large events of World War II.

 

The “kitchen struggle” of Le Chambon resembles rather closely a certain kind of conflict that grew more and more widespread as the years of the Occupation passed….

 

But the people of Le Chambon whom Pastor Andé Trocmé led into a quiet struggle against Vichy and the Nazis were not fighting for the liberation of their country or their village. They felt little loyalty to governments. Their actions did not serve the self-interest of the little commune of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon in the department of Haute-Loire, southern France. On the contrary, those actions flew in the face of that self-interest: by resisting a power far greater than their own they put their village in grave danger of massacre, especially in the last two years of the Occupation, when the Germans were growing desperate. Under the guidance of a spiritual leader they were trying to act in accord with their consciences in the very middle of a bloody, hate-filled war.

 

And what this meant for them was nonviolence. Following their consciences meant refusing to hate or kill any human being. And in this lies their deepest difference from the other aspect of Word War II. Human life was too precious to them to be taken for any reason, glorious and vast though that reason might be. Their consciences told them to save as many lives as they could, even if doing this meant endangering the lives of all the villagers; and they obeyed their consciences.

 

Lest Innocent Blood Be Shed: The story of the village of Le Chambon and how goodness happened there. Philip Hallie, 1979.

Both André and Magda Trocmé and their nephew Daniel Trocmé have been included by Yad Vashem as the Righteous among the Nations. As well the whole village of Le Chambon has been honoured by Yad Vashem, only the second whole community to be honoured in this way.

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Prayer Resistance

Why is my soul so resistant to the Lord when I come to pray?

Here’s a clue from Henri Nouwen:

The resistance to praying is like the resistance of tightly clenched fists. This image shows the tension, the desire to cling tightly to yourself, a greediness which betrays fear. The story about an old woman brought to a psychiatric center exemplifies this attitude. She was wild, swinging at everything in sight, and scaring everything away from her. But there was one small coin which she gripped in her fist and would not give up. In fact, it took two men to pry open that squeezed hand. It was as though she would lose her very self along with the coin. That was her fear.

The man invited to pray is asked to open his tightly clenched fists and to give up his last coin. But who wants to do that? A first prayer, therefore, is often a painful prayer, because you discover you don’t want to let go. You hold fast to what is familiar, even if you aren’t proud of it. You find yourself saying, “That’s just how it is with me. I would like it to be different, but it can’t be now.” Once you talk like that, you’ve already given up the belief that your life might be otherwise; you’ve already let the hope for a new life float by. Since you wouldn’t dare to put a question mark behind a bit of your own experience with all its attachments, you have wrapped yourself up in the destiny of facts. You feel it is safer to cling to a sorry past than to trust in a new future. So you fill your hands with small clammy coins which you don’t want to surrender.

You still feel jealous of the fellow who is better paid than you are, you still want revenge on someone who doesn’t respect you, you are still disappointed that you’ve received no letter, still angry because she didn’t smile when you walked by. You live through it, you live along with it as though it didn’t really bother you … until the moment that you want to pray. Then everything returns: the bitterness, the hate, the jealousy, the disappointment and the desire for revenge. But these feelings are not just there; you clutch them in your hands as if they were treasures you didn’t want to part with. You sit rummaging in all that old sourness as if you couldn’t do without it, as if in giving it up, you would lose your very self.

Compassion as radical criticism

 

 

 

 

 

Walter Bruggeman on the compassion of Jesus.

Jesus in his solidarity with the marginal ones is moved to compassion. Compassion constitutes a radical form of criticism, for it announces that the hurt is to be taken seriously, that the hurt is not to be accepted as normal and natural but is an abnormal and unacceptable condition for humanness. In the arrangement of “lawfulness” in Jesus’ time, as in the ancient empower of Pharaoh, the one unpermitted quality of relation was compassion. Empires are never built or maintained on the basis of compassion. The norms of law (social control) are never accommodated to persons, but person are accommodated to the norms. Otherwise the norms will collapse and with them the whole power arrangement. Thus the compassion of Jesus is to be understood not simply as a personal emotional reaction but as a public criticism in which he dares to act upon his concern against the entire numbness of his social context. Empires live by numbness. Empires, in their militarism, expect numbness about the human cost of war. Corporate economies expect blindness to the cost in terms of poverty and exploitation. Governments and societies of domination go to great lengths to keep the numbness intact. Jesus penetrates the numbness by his compassion and with his compassion takes the first step by making visible the odd abnormality that had become business as usual. Thus compassion that might be seen simply as generous goodwill is in fact criticism of the system, forces, and ideologies that produce the hurt. Jesus enters into the hurt and finally comes to embody it.

 

Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination, Second Edition, 2001.

Do small things with great love.

Waiting for Spring ~ Central Park, March 2018

 

While preparing for the talk coming up this weekend, I’ve been reflecting on a favourite saying of Mother Teresa, “Do small things with great love.” Our stewardship of the stuff of Creation must be rooted in the love of Jesus. Without confidence in His love our efforts become slavish and our patience becomes apathy. Soon we easily reduce ourselves to the roll of consumers. But, we are consumed.

 

 

In our great affection for celebrity we are as mindless as the kids that want to be famous. Why? They do not know. How? Most cannot imagine small things first. We are too limited. So we look only for what seems great and worthy of applause. We confirm by our longing that we need to be loved. Our hearts need a thaw. We need the Spirit’s spring and warmth to remind us that though we are a small thing in the universe we have not escaped the affectionate eye of the Father.

 

In 2017 a group of musicians, artists, scholars, and pastors gathered in New York City to collaborate. The Porter’s Gate Worship Project has released some wonderful music since then. Here’s another: Little Things with Great Love. Jesus often spoke of little things, acknowledge the little people, and always acted loved.

 

 

 

In the garden of our Savior no flower grows unseen

His kindness rains like water on every humble seed

No simple act of mercy escapes His watchful eye

For there is One who loves me

His hand is over mine

 

In the kingdom of the heavens no suffering is unknown

Each tear that falls is holy, each breaking heart a throne

There is a song of beauty in every weeping eye

For there is One who loves me

His heart, it breaks with mine

 

O the deeds forgotten, O the works unseen

Every drink of water flowing graciously

Every tender mercy You’re making glorious

This You have asked of us:

Do little things with great love

Little things with great love

 

At the table of our Savior, no mouth will go unfed

And His children in the shadows stream in and raise their heads

O give us ears to hear them, and give us eyes that see

For there is One who loves them. I am His hands and feet

 

 

 

Craig’s List for Reading in Summer 2018

 

As students in our crowd head out I’ve usually made a recommendation of some books that may prove helpful for growth.

 

Read a book. I’m shocked still, and perhaps I should not be, but I keep hearing from students who get to graduation and haven’t read a book.

 

Did you know people who read books live longer?