February 23

I’m preparing for our Lenten Quiet Day by reading Walter Wink’s The Powers That Be, on ending the cycle of violence in our theology and our cultures.  Wink writes from a position of practical theology, as one who practiced everything he’s writing: he marched in Selma and spent the rest of his life teaching and practicing peaceful resistance to “the powers.”  Unfortunately, these days we need his words more than ever; fortunately, we have them.  If you are looking for a Lenten book to read, I recommend it.

Our Quiet Day is organized around the theme of “putting on the armor of God,” an image from Ephesians 6.  It can be off-putting for those of us who want to disavow violence, but it’s an important image for Wink and for all who hope to “withstand on that evil day.”  As we go through the list of elements of that armor, it becomes clear that the only offensive “weapon” we have is “the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Eph. 6:17).  The concrete practice he recommends is prayer.

One of the greatest lies of the “powers” is what Wink called “the myth of redemptive violence,” the belief that only violence can overcome injustice, and that somehow my violence will end the cycle of oppression.  Through that lie the powers stay in power, changing their faces and names but remaining the same.  Wink urges us to see the powers themselves as both good and fallen, and as open to redemption.  In short: like us.  Just as we see the powers at work in individuals and in groups, we need to look for God’s creation in the face of evil.

As we move toward Lent, we are reminded of the glory that we have in “clay jars” (2 Cor. 4:7), our fragile and vulnerable human body/souls.  I pray that we will see the glory and the fragility, and honor both in one another and ourselves.  I pray that these times will see the renewal of a community of hope and justice.  I invite you to join me in seeding that community.  

May you know yourself, and others, to be blessed and a blessing.