What is the Spirit?

“The Spirit is the core of the human being from which arises the decision to decide or decay, to live or die, to overcome or knuckle under.”

This is the ‘spirit’ in spiritual care.  This is the generic trans-religious interpretation of the human being that, I believe, connects the work of all faiths in the world.  And that sounds so bland and boring.  See how the Spirit is illustrated in Staff Sergeant Paul Worley of the USMC, awarded the Silver Star in 2010.  While in combat…

Worley didn’t even realize he had been hit until he saw blood: A round had struck his thigh.  “I was so full of adrenaline, it really didn’t matter,” he said.  He pulled down his trousers, patched up the wound-dismissing the platoon corpsman to help the more seriously wounded-and continued to resupply his men’s waning supply of ammunition and direct their fire.  On the radio, a lieutenant relayed that higher command wanted him evacuated. 

“I told them fuck no, that I was busy.” 

I believe we were made this way, with a Spirit at our core that makes or breaks us.  As a Christian, I accept that this is in the image of God’s Holy Spirit, that part of my Lord that pushes me beyond myself.  That is the part of the man or the woman that the chaplain can work with.  It is the part of us that deals with the ultimate things of life, the universe, and everything.

 

I do not have the authority to edit the words of a hero.

Death: The Christian Answer

If we are going to discuss death, we need to have some background on the Christian point of view concerning death.  In my faith, it is not the ‘forever good-bye’.  It is, rather, punishment for sins committed against God, but a death sentence that has been commuted to life eternal by the death and resurrection of someone else.

I stand up at funerals and share the promise of the gospel, that in Christ, death is but a doorway, a way station, until such time as we are all united once again.  It kind of sucks for those who are not Christians, but I am the advocate of a God of Mercy, not a God of Vengeance, so I think it takes a whole lot to take on death as punishment (but it can be done).

But unlike some of my colleagues, I do not share this as a scare tactic for mourners to get their act together before they get laid out.  I share this as hope for somewhere down the line, somewhere through the grieving process, somewhere when the feelings of the death have begun to integrate back into the person’s being.

I will be the first to admit, it doesn’t do much for the shock moments of death, for the traumas that follow losing someone, especially if you are carrying the burden of perhaps doing something that could have saved their life.  But it carries the possibilities that things can be okay again, someday.

 

Charlie Hebdo: Owning the Deaths

Bradley Cooper, in an interview about "The American Sniper", made a very interesting comment about art, not from the point of view of the artist, but the recipient.  When "art" is made, it is for the consumer to own and react to.  We are not taking about buying the artwork to 'own' it.  Ownership comes from interaction, from consideration, from a reaction informed by our connection to that artwork.  And the "art" of Charlie Hebdo led to mass murder. 


The sum total of my experience with Charlie Hebdo is a cursory internet search of cover images.  Now, I like satire.  And it ain't Mad magazine.  And it sure ain't Monty Python.  My idiomatic French is enough to be offended by what they are doing.  I have owned the "art" of Charlie Hebdo as far as I care to.  I've been provoked, and I, the consumer, do not find it to particularly appealing.


I have experience with people of my own faith who have, in the name of religion, come out in criticism of some piece of "art", whether photographs by Mapplethorpe, a magazine by Larry Flint, this movie or that book or such a video.  Whatever is being criticized, rarely have the critics seen or listened to or experienced the art in question.  There is no 'ownership'.  I wonder if the terrorists ever actually read Charlie Hebdo.  Or did somebody tell them what to think and what to do? 


Here is the real kick in the pants for me.  I have been trying to figure out why this has provoked my thinking.  It just clicked.  This is how Jesus died.  He was crucified for things people thought he had done.  He was killed for political expediency and by a conspiracy of the powers that were at that time who did not like what he had to say. 


I know God has a sense of humor.  My own vocation as a pastor is proof of that.  But is there a transcendent satire here

Charlie Hebdo: Dying for Art's Sake

There was a discussion on the radio this morning concerning a panel discussion on the role of art in the aftermath of the shooting of the Charlie Hebdo offices in Paris.  The one line that stuck with me from the discussion was along the lines of defending someone's right to express themselves even when that expression runs completely contrary to what you consider proper and decent.


The discussion went all over the place, from artists needing a sense of responsibility in their work so that they do not shock and shut down the audience they are trying to reach through acknowledging that it is the extreme edges of personal expression, those things that are done to shock and provoke, that bring about real conversations.


In the case of Charlie Hebdo, what they did to shock and provoke, what brought a deadly response, was universally agreed upon as wrong and abhorrent.  But it was also acknowledged that many people find their satirical work to be wrong and abhorrent-though not to the point of murder.


It does not take too much imagination on my part to think of a situation where I, as a pastor and faith leader, would be criticized as two-faced for 1. condemning an artistic presentation that I considered to be inappropriate, grotesque, or disgusting while 2. speaking my heart that the artist still has the freedom to express themselves in this way.


Maybe this simply goes to the question of what art is.  Yes, like defining 'art' is a simple question.  It comes down to a theology of judgment for me.  The day that I decide it is up to me to judge what should be expressed and what should not be expressed is the day I have stepped into Jesus' shoes.  And I cannot imagine a more arrogant moment than that. 


And that frees me to be passionate in my love or hatred for the art that I have the privilege of being exposed to.