Tuesday, March 04, 2008
From AscensionNYC
Tuesday in the Fourth Week of Lent
by Elizabeth Khan
Psalm 46:1-8
Ezekiel 47:1-9, 12
John 5:1-18
Water. Think about this most quotidian of substances. It has the power to give life, and to take it away in a wave of destruction. It is so soft that you may not even feel a drop of it that lands on your hand, but so powerful that it can carve the Grand Canyon out of the earth. It is also a theme that runs through today's readings. In the forty-seventh chapter of Ezekiel, Ezekiel is taken on a little tour of the river that runs from the Temple. He marvels at the changes in its course: Deep here, shallow there. Salty here, fresh and abundant there: "On the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for food. Their leaves will not wither nor their fruit fail, but they will bear fresh fruit every month, because the water for them flows from the sanctuary. Their fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing" (Ezekiel 47:12).
Thus, God provides health and life. In the gospel according to John, there is a pool called Bethesda, to which the blind and the paralyzed come, hoping to be healed. One day, Jesus visits and spots a man "who had been ill for thirty-eight years" (John 5:5). He asks the man if he wants to he healed. How can he, replies the man, if he cannot even walk into the water? There is no one to carry him, and when he tries to make his way down, others keep obstructing his path. Jesus says to him, "Stand up, take your mat, and walk" (John 5:8). The man does as Jesus tells him, and he is healed. The religious authorities are not pleased with Jesus' transgression of the law against work of any kind on the Sabbath. They are so displeased that they even seek to kill him.
At this point I thought of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the young German Lutheran pastor who realized very early that the Nazi regime boded ill not just for Germany, but for all of humanity. I have been reading much about his works and his life lately, and what struck me most was his absolute determination to follow Christ, even to the point of — breaking His commandments.
How can this be? Christ, of course, commands his followers to love their enemies, to turn the other cheek, never to resort to violence. Bonhoeffer, however, became involved in a plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler. He had been a pacifist up to this point. He wrestled mightily with the theological implications of such an act, but in the end, came to this conclusion: If someone is "driving a car into a group of innocent bystanders, then I can't, as a Christian, simply wait for the catastrophe and then comfort the wounded and bury the dead. I must try to wrestle the steering wheel out of the hands of the driver."
And that is what he did. He broke the law given to him by his religion, because he knew that doing so would save lives. Unfortunately, the plot was unsuccessful, and Bonhoeffer was executed for his role in it. Yet even during the last months of his life, spent in prison and in a concentration camp, he believed that God was looking out for him. He wrote a poem for New Year's Day of 1945 that expressed the hope that survived through all his despair that God would still be his "refuge and strength, and a very present help in trouble" (Psalm 46:1).
Psalm 46:1-8
Ezekiel 47:1-9, 12
John 5:1-18
Water. Think about this most quotidian of substances. It has the power to give life, and to take it away in a wave of destruction. It is so soft that you may not even feel a drop of it that lands on your hand, but so powerful that it can carve the Grand Canyon out of the earth. It is also a theme that runs through today's readings. In the forty-seventh chapter of Ezekiel, Ezekiel is taken on a little tour of the river that runs from the Temple. He marvels at the changes in its course: Deep here, shallow there. Salty here, fresh and abundant there: "On the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for food. Their leaves will not wither nor their fruit fail, but they will bear fresh fruit every month, because the water for them flows from the sanctuary. Their fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing" (Ezekiel 47:12).
Thus, God provides health and life. In the gospel according to John, there is a pool called Bethesda, to which the blind and the paralyzed come, hoping to be healed. One day, Jesus visits and spots a man "who had been ill for thirty-eight years" (John 5:5). He asks the man if he wants to he healed. How can he, replies the man, if he cannot even walk into the water? There is no one to carry him, and when he tries to make his way down, others keep obstructing his path. Jesus says to him, "Stand up, take your mat, and walk" (John 5:8). The man does as Jesus tells him, and he is healed. The religious authorities are not pleased with Jesus' transgression of the law against work of any kind on the Sabbath. They are so displeased that they even seek to kill him.
At this point I thought of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the young German Lutheran pastor who realized very early that the Nazi regime boded ill not just for Germany, but for all of humanity. I have been reading much about his works and his life lately, and what struck me most was his absolute determination to follow Christ, even to the point of — breaking His commandments.
How can this be? Christ, of course, commands his followers to love their enemies, to turn the other cheek, never to resort to violence. Bonhoeffer, however, became involved in a plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler. He had been a pacifist up to this point. He wrestled mightily with the theological implications of such an act, but in the end, came to this conclusion: If someone is "driving a car into a group of innocent bystanders, then I can't, as a Christian, simply wait for the catastrophe and then comfort the wounded and bury the dead. I must try to wrestle the steering wheel out of the hands of the driver."
And that is what he did. He broke the law given to him by his religion, because he knew that doing so would save lives. Unfortunately, the plot was unsuccessful, and Bonhoeffer was executed for his role in it. Yet even during the last months of his life, spent in prison and in a concentration camp, he believed that God was looking out for him. He wrote a poem for New Year's Day of 1945 that expressed the hope that survived through all his despair that God would still be his "refuge and strength, and a very present help in trouble" (Psalm 46:1).
By gracious powers so wonderfully sheltered,
and confidently waiting come what may,
we know that God is with us night and morning,
and never fails to greet us each new day.
— Dietrich Bonhoeffer (translated by F. Pratt Green)
