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| "Sidewalk #kintsugi on the #UWS" by Howard Freeman, on Flickr |
Election season 2016 is over. We are all feeling the election hangover today; those who rejoice and those who weep are united by two things: 1. Surprise (for good or ill) at the outcome; and 2. Sleep-deprivation after staying up too late watching the returns. I have spent all of my remaining energy today committing myself to grace and curiosity and hope. For either candidate, today would have been the "open door" day - you've been elected, the door is open, now is the time to show us what you're made of. Now is the time to surprise us for good. I don't know what the next four years will look like. I am trying to keep my wits and my humility about me, in the event that these four years bring unexpected good for our nation and common good. I am trying to keep my cynicism in check, in the event that this presidency crashes and burns and takes many down in its flames. Above all, I am confident that these next years will teach us a lot about government, about our nation, and about ourselves.
Because the campaign has already been a time of great learning. It has been a season of great revelation.
This election has shown us the cracks.
It has shown us how government feels to those who benefit from it and how government feels to those who feel burdened by it. It has shown us that racism, sexism, classism, and intolerance of all kinds are not just lingering realities, but thriving ones. It has shown us that when we get angry, we fling callous words across the aisle, both ways, and feel justified in doing so. This election has shown us the limits of our two-party loyalties and it has shown us the futility of trying to argue character flaws, even significant ones, as a simple matter of good and evil. It has shown us that we are afraid of losing what is important to us, and it has shown us that the things that are important to us are not necessarily the best things or the things of ultimate importance. This election has shown us that faith and politics continue to make very strange bedfellows, and that there is a gap between actual Christianity and political rhetoric of Christian Values. This election has brought to light our histories and our vulnerabilites, our biases and our privileges, and perhaps above all, the one thing common to all humanity: our flawed, selfish, broken human nature.
By some stroke of bizarre humor (thanks, Holy Spirit), this Sunday's appointed gospel text is from Luke 21. Jesus declares to his disciples that everything is about to come crashing down. False leaders will arise. There will be wars. There will be riots. Nations will clash and self-destruct. Creation will unleash its fury. Everything will feel like a sign of the end of days. Those who follow Jesus as disciples (of grace, forgiveness, compassion) will come upon hard times. The government won't know what to do with the voices that resist the trappings of empire. Faithful people will be called to testify. It might go poorly. We will find ourselves divided from friends and family. We will know vitriol and hatred.
BUT...God has us in his care. Though we weep or die or struggle, we will not perish in an eternal sense. God has not forgotten about us. We will endure. We will find ourselves and our souls.
It takes great care to talk honestly about this gospel without sounding politically biased or hyperbolically panicked about the state of our nation. But I think that Jesus's words and warnings are fitting no matter who was going to take office.
Because the truth is that all the things in Jesus's list - volatile governments, wars, natural disasters, broken relationships - none of these things are new. The are a persistent part of our fallen world, our groaning creation, our shared need for God's grace to make up the difference between the world we have and the kingdom we pray for.
When the foundations of the earth tremble and shake, when buildings and stones and the structures we thought we could rely on start crumbling, when everything feels in motion and out of control, this is when the cracks form. This election has shown all of us (regardless of party lines) the cracks in our nation and in our world and in ourselves. And these cracks, no matter how painful, are perhaps what it takes for us to finally catch a real glimpse of our souls.
Author Joanna Macy writes, “The heart that breaks open can contain the whole universe.”
Might this be what Jesus is getting at in his perplexing and painful words about the end of the world? Might he be reminding us that our call to discipleship is actually a call to let our hearts crack and break open? Is he telling us that holy heartbreak is the only path toward learning true love for all of God's people and all of God's creation?
We cannot understand the depth of God's love and grace for us until we see the cracks in ourselves and in our world. God's grace is a rather uncompelling notion when we don't see our need for it. But when we see our souls clearly, when we see revealed in ourselves and in our nation a deep and latent brokenness, when we finally feel the despair of admitting that we are useless to save ourselves, and that governments always prove to be shoddy saviors...it is in the gap between longing and fulfillment, despair and hope that we can really fathom the ridiculous, overwhelming, absurd, outstanding measure of God's love for us, that God would pour upon our souls forgiveness and grace and somehow, despite it all, still choose to call us children of God, and still call us to bear God's image in the world.
One of the other texts for this Sunday is from one of Paul's letters, where he is urging a fledgling community of faith to stay persistent in doing the work that God has set before them, no matter what. Faith gives us a calling: to do what is right and good, without wearying of the task. Meaning that all of the cracks and tremblings around us call us to redouble our efforts to bind up the brokenhearted, to seek justice for the oppressed, to bring liberation to the captives, to create good news for the poor, to love our neighbors and our enemies, to give up our stuff and ourselves for the sake of others, to stand with the broken, to remember that we are members of the body of Christ and are therefore responsible for the good of others, not just our own interests and pursuits.
Our world cracks. Our hearts crack. We rely on grace. We bear grace. That's the way that it works.
There is a centuries-old Japanese art called kintsugi, which is the practice of piecing together broken vessels using precious metals like gold, silver, or platinum. The philosophy behind the art is to take an object, to honor its history - including its cracks and brokenness - and to create beauty out of the brokenness instead of trying to hide or disguise it. Broken bowls re-emerge as bowls with rich golden veins that fill the old cracks with reflected light. Broken vases shimmer with newfound tendrils of silver unfolding from bottom to top. The cracks become the beauty. The brokenness becomes the light. As Leonard Cohen once wrote, "There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."
Much has cracked in our nation and in ourselves. Jesus tells us that these cracks are going to be a persistent reality until the day of God's kingdom. Jesus tells us that the cracks might get worse before things get better for our longing world.
But Jesus also tells us that these are the cracks that let us see our souls. These are the cracks that reveal not just our brokenness, but God's beauty. We might still be covered in shadows, but these are the cracks that will, one day, let the light in. And at the end of it all, God will put us back together with gold and silver, giving us crowns in the kingdom, which we will promptly cast down around Christ's throne, as a sign of awe and wonder and reckless joy at the triumph of love and goodness over all things...even over our own feeble hearts.
If you are sure today that the world is ending, my friends, hear the good news: it is. But not because of who is in office. The world is trembling and shaking toward its end and its goal, which is the coming of Christ as king, and a world where death will die, and mourning will be no more, and peace will reign, and the nations will be reconciled.
Even though the edges might still be rough and sharp, and even though the divisions in our world run deep, God empowers us to look through the gaps to see the light. What is broken will one day be restored, not just to former beauty but to new glory. God is putting us back together. God is making of us a new creation. And God is calling us to pour out love and justice like molten gold upon our world.
See the light.
Be the light.
Reflect the light.
Pour out the light.