The Light Shines in the Darkness

Dear People of Christ Church,
This week I’m reeling a little from the horrifying rhetoric coming out of certain corners of Christianity and American politics. Whether Jerry Falwell, Jr. exhorting the students of Liberty University to carry guns to “end those Muslims before they walked in and killed us” or Donald Trump wanting to bar Muslims from entering the United States, it seems like whatever level of “too far” I think I’ve heard one week, the next week it goes further.

That’s not my Christianity and not my country. As Shane Claiborne pointed out in a response to Falwell, Jesus carried a cross, not a weapon. When Peter moved to defend him from the Romans and cut the solider’s ear off, Jesus said no. Always, always, the way of Christ is the way of non-violence. I don’t pretend to always live as Jesus invited us, but I hope to recognize it when I see it in others, and hope that I turn away from vengeance when I find it in myself. The power of peace and love is what makes resurrection happen, the power of God in Jesus and for us. We are called to repent, to turn away, from the violent logic of the world that says that you just need to be faster with your own gun before someone else comes at you with theirs.

As Jerry Falwell, Jr. demonstrated last week (as have any number of domestic terrorists who call themselves Christian), Christianity as a whole, not just individuals, has need of repentance and conversion. Just as peace-seeking Muslims don’t recognize their faith in ISIS/Daesh, I don’t recognize my Jesus in Falwell, and I certainly don’t recognize my faith in those who would exclude or promote violence against Muslims. Whether the Crusades, or the Inquisition, or violence perpetrated against Native Americans, there are many examples when our faith, too, has failed to live up to the invitation of Jesus to love.

Again and again, I keep coming back to that reading we hear as part of the first Sunday after Christmas—“the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” I need to keep telling myself this. It is too dark otherwise not to keep lifting up the light. I have to remember that the violence of anti-Muslim hatred—even when perpetrated by those who call themselves Christian—will not win.

The darkness now, though, is very dark. I read a facebook post from a Muslim activist, Sofia Ali-Khan, who talks about how the rhetoric is no longer ignore-able. She invites allies to check in with the Muslims they know, to learn, to stand in solidarity. The causes of big political hatred can seem beyond us, but the reality is that hatred is transmitted person to person, and the place where hearts are changed is from person to person. That could be a gentle “Well, no, all Muslims don’t believe in terrorism” when a friend seems to imply otherwise, to a quiet smile at a woman in a head scarf at the grocery store. These are not earth shattering gestures, but they hold up light in a terribly dark time.

That’s what’s at stake at Christmas—the light coming to be born in this darkest time of the year (literally as well as metaphorically). We are working to make a world for that light to shine as well as looking for ways to allow that light to shine in our own hearts, in quiet and peace.

What does that look like for you these days?

Blessings,
Sara+