Friday 28 April 2017

Post 166--From Murder to Execution in Peace



Jim Denison of the Denison Forum shares a story with us today that highlights the story of one person's movement from crime and murder to one of peace in execution. It is not a unique story; it happens time and again, but it is not often told in public. It is a deeply Christian story, though I will not claim that such stories can happen only in Christianity. It is a demonstration of the power of forgiveness on the part of one deeply hurt, though the real moment of change had come earlier.  Please read slowly to let the story sink into your heart and captivate your emotions: 
Kenneth Williams was serving a life sentence for killing a cheerleader. He escaped in 1999 and was involved in a traffic wreck which killed a man named Michael Greenwood. Williams then killed another man, Cecil Boren, while on the run. He was executed last night by the state of Arkansas for murdering Boren.

Michael Greenwood's daughter, Kayla Greenwood, learned a few days ago that Williams had a twenty-one-year-old daughter he had not seen for seventeen years and a three-year-old granddaughter he had never met. Kayla's mother then bought plane tickets so Williams's daughter and granddaughter could fly from Washington state to Arkansas to see him a day before his execution.

Kayla Greenwood sent a message to Williams through his attorney: "I told him we forgive him and where I stood on it." When Williams found out what they were doing, "he was crying to the attorney."

Here's the rest of the story.

Williams told an interviewer that he has been "stabilized and sustained by the inner peace and forgiveness I've received through a relationship with Jesus Christ." He chose to appear before a prison review board, not because he expected to receive clemency but "so I could show them I was no longer the person I once was. God has transformed me, and even the worst of us can be reformed and renewed. Revealing these truths meant more to me than being granted clemency. I'm still going to eventually die someday, but to stand up for God in front of man, that's my victory."

No one is beyond the reach of God's forgiveness: "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9, my emphasis). Do you see any loopholes or ambiguity here? If "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners" (1 Timothy 1:15), are any sinners exempt from his grace?

However, the body of Christ is often the means by which we experience the grace of Christ. We are called to pardon those who sin against us because we have been pardoned and to demonstrate such grace to the world. It's harder to believe that Christ forgives us if Christians won't forgive us. It's easier to believe that the Father loves us if his children love us.

In a graceless culture that measures us by what we do and how we look, agape love is a powerful and lasting witness. Our benevolence and unity point others to the One we love and serve (John 13:35).

St. Gaudentius of Brescia (died AD 410) explained that the bread of the Lord's Supper is an appropriate connection to his body "because, as there are many grains of wheat in the flour from which bread is made by mixing it with water and baking it with fire, so also we know that many members make up the one body of Christ which is brought to maturity by the fire of the Holy Spirit." Gaudentius extended the metaphor to the cup as well: "Similarly, the wine of Christ's blood, drawn from the many grapes of the vineyard that he had planted, is extracted in the wine-press of the cross."

Our broken culture measures Christ by Christians. Who is your Kenneth Williams?

Wednesday 26 April 2017

Post 165—Labour Unions Hurting Social Fabric of Society



During my teen years I worked in the lumber mills of Port Alberni in the centre of Vancouver Island. So did my Dad after our immigration in 1951 and, for a few years, so did two of my sisters in the plywood plant which was co-ed. We were all members of the IWA, the International Woodworkers of America.  We made good money. The Alberni Valley had the highest per capita income in all of Canada, thanks to both MacMillan & Bloedel and the IWA.  I’ve written about this already in earlier posts. I was aware that, as good as we had it, it could not last. I suspect the CEO and his cohorts made the usual outrageously high salaries as they are wont to do these days, but I was not aware of that issue at the time. I was aware of the fact that if our wages would continue to rise almost annually, the IWA would sooner or later price us out of the world lumber market.  They did rise and we did lose out eventually. The town shrunk with the reduction of jobs as did other BC towns with the same industry and the same IWA. In fact, the IWA no longer exists; it merged with another union.  It turned out to be its own enemy, more so than the company.

Labour unions have been a great force for good at one time. They lifted up the working class, a fact we should never forget and always appreciate. This, however, does not mean we should grant them license to force themselves on the society at the latter’s expense—and, ultimately, at their own expense. There is a movement afoot in Quebec province, for example, to reign them in because of their excesses. Those excesses are not only about wages and accompanying perks, but also in that they inhibit the healthy social instinct for volunteering. I’ve seen it in Vancouver, but for today the issue is in Quebec. 

Giuseppe Valiante, a Canadian Press journalist, has an article in the Vancouver Sun of April 24, 2017, under the title “Paint a school for free? In Quebec, that’s illegal,” with the byline “Union rules blamed for hurting social fabric of society.”  Due to copyright issues, I cannot copy the full article here, but it is about authorities, under the pressure of a union, stopping the mayor of Saint –Sebastien from painting the town’s public school with the help of local volunteers. It had not been painted for 33 years and there was no money from the school board. So, the mayor took the bull by the horns and recruited members from the community. An inspector came along and that was the end of this communal effort.  The volunteer job would have cost roughly $3,500. The union came in and the price rose to $120,000!  The union members did not even want to charge them, but the union forced them to take full wages at around $94 per hour!

“Left-leaning media columnists and provincial politicians argued parents shouldn’t have to paint their kids’ schools, because government has the responsibility to maintain public education infrastructure,” writes Valiante. From my point of view, this is about as absurd,  convoluted and corrupt as things can go!  Where does this kind of “reasoning” come from?  My Christian reasoning encourages communal efforts and holds parents responsible for their children’s upbringing, including their education. Preventing parents and the community from taking on their responsibility by powers with vested interests!  I have no words for that kind of mentality within my Christian vocabulary and the others I surely would not wish to utter!   


I am so annoyed, I have difficulty reining in my emotions at this point and restrain my language.  So, I am inviting you to read this fine article but terrible story for yourself.  Please go to: https://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2017/04/23/quebec-painting-incident-exposes-unions-hold-on-volunteering-rules.html.

Tuesday 18 April 2017

Post 163--The Empty Tomb


The Empty Tomb

My guest writer for easter is Father Raymond J. de Souza, quite a mouthful. When you read below about the positions he holds you have more than a mouthful. I appreciate these reflections on the empty tomb and hope you will as well.

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This Easter will look different at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, the large church built over both the place of Jesus’ crucifixion and burial. Last month, the recent restoration of the Edicule – the chapel built over the burial place of Christ and locus of the Resurrection – was completed. It was the first significant restoration work since 1810.
The structure had become unstable during the period of the British Mandate in Palestine. In 1947, just before their authority expired, the British erected steel girders around the Edicule to prevent it from collapsing. For 70 years, the most important pilgrim site for Christians looked like a ramshackle construction site.

The blackened Edicule has now been restored to its original cream and rose colouring, almost luminous in what remains a dark church. The ugly girders are gone, having rendered their necessary service for seven decades.
All of which makes the church modestly more beautiful – and less embarrassing – to visit. Regardless, though, of the structural soundness of the Edicule, what remains remarkable is that is built to mark an absence. There is nothing inside.

As the angel said that first Easter morning: “He is not here.”
The only lasting place mortal man has on this earth is the grave. We speak of the abundant resources of the planet as our common home, but the earth only provides for our life for some decades. For the longest part, what the earth gives to us is a burial place. It is more a cemetery for the dead than a home for the living.
So we have busily set about making our common cemetery decorous. We make the headstones. We landscape the grounds. We mark the graves: “Here lies….”
The Edicule in Jerusalem marks what used to be a grave, but has long ceased to be: “Here He does not lie…”
For those great personages whose lives are remembered beyond the circle of their own relatives, we fashion more impressive monuments, memorials that in time are themselves forgotten. Yet what is inside remains relentlessly egalitarian. Decomposing corpses are more similar than different, no matter the previous station in life.
The formative event of the Chosen People is the Exodus, when Moses led the Jews out of slavery in Egypt by the signs and wonders of the Lord God. By the time of Jesus, did the Jews still carry with them the handed-down memory of the tombs of the Pharaohs? Were there stories told about the great tombs built, the architecture so advanced that even today it remains a mystery of how they were built?
Ancient Egypt was wise. Its people knew that all that really lasts is the tomb, so they set about building grand tombs stuffed full of all that a dead man awaiting life could possibly need.
What Egypt did not – could not – realize, was that what man really needed was not a better tomb, but to leave the tomb altogether. When Israel came up out of Egypt, did they realize that the pilgrimage of salvation history is away from the massive tombs of the pyramids toward the empty tomb of Calvary?
The archaeologists who worked on the restoration of the Edicule removed, at one point, the marble slab covering the burial site itself. It was a rare time in archaeology where the expectation was to find nothing. There was fill material and other detritus of the ages, but nothing of Jesus.
Everything rather depends upon that, as St. Paul insisted: “And if Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain.”
The alternative to the empty tomb is to return to the busy work of grave building, the proper task of man absent the Resurrection. The Edicule is the reminder that man was created for life, not to spend his life building graves.
About the Incarnation we are accustomed to say that the eternal Son of the Father became a man like us in all things but sin. In His passion and death, He who had no sin was made sin, as it were, for our sake. Yet He was not touched by sin, and so had no need of what we need, the resting place of the grave.
He descended to the grave, but life cannot remain there, any more than a corpse belongs among the living. So the one who came to be present with us gives us the gift of a great absence, the empty tomb. It is the presence (absence?) already given in history of that day when all the tombs shall be empty.
We were not made for this world, and so the only enduring offer of this world – a grave, more or less comfortable, more or less grand – is not for us. We do not need what the world can enduringly give; we need rather, to not need that grave.
The Edicule marks the place where we began not to need it anymore.

A blessed Easter to all!
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Friday 14 April 2017

Post 162--Good Friday




Today Christians all over the world for two millennia have been commemorating Good Friday. That is to say, the death of Jesus Christ by one of the most cruel executions the ancient Roman Empire ever devised, namely crucifixion. The story is told in the New Testament of the Bible at various places:  Matthew 27, Mark 15, Luke 23 and John 19.  If you’re not too familiar with the Bible, you will find the most understandable translation to be that called The Messenger.  I was almost going to say “the most pleasant translation,” but reading the story of Jesus’ crucifixion and the events leading up to it is anything but pleasant; it is heart wrenching, nothing pleasant about it.

In Post 161 I referred to Maudy Thursday, the day before Good Friday. Many churches attend special services that day, as my wife and I did in the evening at First Baptist Church in downtown Vancouver. The choir sang a few very beautiful hymns, but the last one really did me in. I broke down in tears, I was so emotionally overcome by the lyrics themselves as well as the melody and, not the least, the way it was sung. I played it on Utube again this morning and had the same experience. Even now, at this very moment, I have tears in my eyes. I am a singer and when I hear songs that I know, I sing along. But both last night and this morning, I was too overwhelmed to sing along. I could only listen and let waves of emotion run over me—emotions, I hasten to add, of joy, gladness and peace, but also of sadness and shame, because of the reason for all of this tragic drama, namely the sin that has distorted the entire world and every individual in it, including me.

Another word for sin is evil, both words that we, heirs of the Enlightenment of some centuries back and the subsequent rationalist philosophies it has spawned, including secularism and postmodernism, do not want to hear.  Well, evil is one word we may tolerate, but sin? No way. That’s nonsense, primitive. We will have no truck with it. Well, neither does God. But He does not deny its reality as most of us do. Instead, He provides a way out; He does not leave us stuck in or with it. The events from Christmas through Good Friday are the prelude to His way of overcoming it by diverting the punishment from us to Jesus. 

I know, for most of us it sounds like a bizarre story, something that no one immersed in our culture could possibly think up; it is simply too exotic for us. But, you know, much of our Western culture is exotic to most of the world. Every culture is exotic to another culture far away. But no matter what you do, it is always in the context of a specific culture that is exotic to almost every other culture. That’s just the way we are; we exist in various cultures, all of them exotic to others. So, if God was going to do something in the world of humans,  no matter what, He has to do it in terms of a specific culture. No way around it. That’s how we are created. He can’t do it in every culture. No one will understand.

So, for His own reason, he chose the culture that was started by Abraham and developed into Jewish culture of the ancient past in the Old Testament. Of course, it is exotic to us, for we live in another culture and have difficulty understanding that of the Bible. So, why do you reject it just because it is expressed in an exotic culture? Why would you insist that God did His special work with Jesus in our culture?  Isn’t that selfish?  Is that what you want to be? That ain’t very nice, you know, to put it mildly. 

So, we just have to bite the bullet and recognize that we live in an exotic culture that finds it difficult to understand events in another, but that does not make them untrue or false or a figment of someone’s imagination. Nor is it because the people in those days were primitive and ready to believe anything. There was an entire class of highly educated Jews who disbelieved the very notion of a resurrection. Same with some of the ancient Greek philosophers.  None of these people wanted to believe the story; it was too irrational for them. 

I herewith reproduce the lyrics of the song that so moves me. After that, I offer you the URLs of five different ways this song is sung. There are more and you can access them yourselves. Please read these lyrics carefully, slowly, meditatively. And then, when you’re done, as today’s newscasters tend to say, “Have a listen.” And respond with your heart. 

Go to Dark Gethsemane

Go to dark Gethsemane, you who feel the tempter’s power;
your Redeemer’s conflict see; watch with Him one bitter hour;
turn not from His griefs away; learn of Jesus Christ to pray.

Follow to the judgment hall; view the Lord of life arraigned.
O the wormwood and the gall! O the pangs His soul sustained!
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss; learn of Him to bear the cross.

Calvary’s mournful mountain climb; there, adoring at His feet,
mark that miracle of time, God’s own sacrifice complete:
“It is finished!” hear Him cry; learn of Jesus Christ to die.








Thursday 13 April 2017

Post 161--Vimy Pride Can Never Diminish the Pain


Today is Maundy Thursday, the day on which Christians begin the weekend that ends with Easter, the day we celebrate Christi's resurrection.  This being a blog devoted to the Christian faith, this post should really be about that tremendously important historical event.  However, it happens to be the day that I read Joe O'Connor's report about the Vimy Ridge memorial week, when Canada remembers, mourns and celebrates the supreme sacrifice thousands of Canadian soldiers made at Vimy Ridge in France. It was such an important event that it has been  credited with the birth of the Canadian nation. 
I don't get a chance/time to write a post every day or even regularly, but I will try to treat you to some meditation on the Good Friday--Easter axis before the weekend is over. However, as a Christian writer I cannot simply ignore such an important and sad event for and in our nation. Actually the Good Friday--Easter axis has this in common with the Vimy story: they both include a very sad part and very joyful one.  For Vimy, the sad part is the death of thousands of young Canadian men; the happy part is that it represents a young nation coming out of the closet of obscurity onto the world stage. We Canadians are proud of that.  So, death leading to a new life.
Similarly, the sad part of the Christian story is the death of Christ through crucifixion for the sinfulness of the human race, including yours and mine. The celebration is about the resurrection of Christ: Death does not have the final word; it is not the real end, except of just a phase. And that resurrection spelled the beginning of a new awakening emerging from Jerusalem into pretty well all the nations of the world.  Here, too, death leading to a new life. 
But for today, the Vimy story as Joe O'Connor tells it in the "National Post in the Vancouver Sun (April 10, 2017). I decided to leave the newspaper's reference to "related stories" down below in place for your further edification.
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Willie McGregor was sitting in a tent, sipping on bottled water and peeling an orange. It was going to be a long day, the 94-year-old Albertan said, as the hot April sun beat down on Vimy. The last time McGregor was in France was June 1944. He landed on the beaches of Normandy — as an army medic — and saw things that no person should ever see.
“There are times when I’ll think about the war every night,” McGregor says. “I was asked after I came back if I wanted to work in a hospital and I said, ‘No, I’ve seen enough blood.’
“I went into farming. I have had a good life.”
On Sunday, McGregor was here, at Vimy, positioned in the shade near the soaring Canadian Memorial. “It is an honour,” he said. The 25,000 other Canadians who came, many wearing red and white, would agree. A 21-gun salute was fired, replica biplanes flew past, bagpipes played, a minute of silence was observed. Prime ministers, presidents and future kings gave speeches. Justin Trudeau elicited roars from the crowd, speaking of “the burden they bore, the country they made;” the Prince of Wales intoned, “this was Canada at its best;” while François Hollande said the “message of Vimy was to stand united.”
Philippe Huguen/AFP/Getty Images
But Vimy, at its core, is for the Canadian people: a memorial to 3,598 farmers, city boys and fishermen, killed taking a ridge that no other nation could take. The land is a gift from France, paid for in Canadian blood. Walter Allward’s soaring monument exudes an aura of permanence.
In northern France and nearby Belgium, the war — even 100 years after Vimy — is not viewed at a distance, but up close. people hear that you are a Canadian and some smile with surprise. Every village has a cenotaph. Every other field, it seems, a cemetery.
Kurt DeBacker was born in Ypres, Belgium, the site of the world’s first gas attack, a town pulverized during four years of fighting, a place full of Canadian ghosts.
DENIS CHARLET/AFP/Getty Images
“I grew up in the world’s largest graveyard,” DeBacker says.
When DeBacker was a kid — he is 46 now — his mother would tell him to watch out for the rusty bits in the garden, shrapnel pieces that he and his pals dug up by the bucket and traded in at the museum for Snickers bars. He was 13 when his school principal appeared at the class door and asked his friend, Laurent, to step outside.
“Laurent didn’t return to school for two weeks,” DeBacker says. “His father was a sugar beet farm. He ploughed over an old shell and was killed when it exploded.
“My friends, we grew up playing in the Commonwealth cemeteries — we were respectful of them — but the grass there was always so soft and green.”
That grass was once mud. Deep and thick, and full of the dead, about 50 per cent of whom were never identified. What sometimes gets forgotten in the memory wars — in the tribal custom of honouring our dead — is that the Germans were boys, too. With moms and dads and brothers and sisters and stories and dreams that died in the mud. In this land of bones, it is hard to find a place more lonesome than a German cemetery.
Christian Hartman/AFP/Getty Images
I went to a German  cemetery and it was very emotional for me,” says Heike Hemlin, a German-born public servant who moved to Canada 25 years ago. Hemlin grew up in a culture of silence, when being German meant being ashamed of what your grandparents and great-grandparents had done. “We were the bad guys,” she says.
Commonwealth cemeteries are full of light, colourful flowers, manicured grass and white marble headstones. German crosses are black. The men are buried in mass graves. There are no flowers. Germany rents the land — in perpetuity, relying on groups of schoolchildren and volunteer donations to maintain their burial sites. It is punishment, everlasting, for starting the war, and it is part of the tragedy of it.
The pain is everywhere: John Kelsall’s father, Sam, fought at Vimy. Sam would often tell the story of a farm boy in his unit from Saskatchewan. When a hand grenade landed in a trench full of men, the boy pounced it — sacrificing himself for his friends.
“My father would tell that story with tears in his eyes,” Kelsall says.
Peter Robinson’s great-grandfather, Pte. Edward J. Clement, survived Vimy, but was killed three months later near Arras. His widow, Elizabeth, lived for another seven decades.
“I saw what his death caused,” Robinson says. “Sadness, anger, financial strain — not least because the politicians of the day were so indifferent to the widows’ plight.”

Related

Six days ago, Gen. (ret.) Rick Hillier addressed a crowd of Vimy pilgrims on a boat gliding up the Seine River and told them how, if they were proud of being Canadian now — if their hearts beat red — that their hearts would be bursting come Sunday, April 9th. There is pride, indeed, great big chests full of it, being here, on this day, and listening to stories about our great-great-grandparents’ generation, dying, living, fighting like lions to the everlasting gratitude of the French.
But pride, perhaps, isn’t the correct word at Vimy, with its soaring monument, and with the politicians on-hand to give speeches on the 100th anniversary of an event where nothing needed to be said.
Words can’t capture the magnitude of the place. Look east, away from the monument, over the Douai Plain, and what you see is beauty: farmers’ fields, rich and green in the April afternoon light. Walk around the base of the monument, however, and the meaning of Vimy is clear. It is carved into the stone — 11,285 names of the Canadians who died in France and whose bodies were never found.
“We haven’t learned a thing, have we?” Willie McGregor said, his voice full of wonder. “I think of this world, and it is still a terrible mess.”




Tuesday 11 April 2017

Post 160--Tomorrow--Wonderful and Scary Technology and Life


A friend forwarded the document below to me. This could be the world of your children and, more certain, of your grandchildren.  I am not sure whether I'm happy I will be gone before most of this materializes. On the one hand, exciting; on the other, scary.  If anything near to this comes true, the entire world will go topsy-turvy, with nothing, absolutely nothing, remaining the same.

Well, not quite true. God will still be there in all His splendour and glory AND, most important of all, with His love and compassion for this world.  Way in the early beginning, He gave us the job to develop this world. It took and while, but now we've gone so far with all that, that most of us wonder what's ahead. We seem to be on a treadmill without a turn-off button.  We're outsmarting ourselves.

Maybe, just maybe, that's what that ancient tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the Bible book of Genesis comes in. It may have been telling us that there are somethings we should not know, for they will devour us.  We could be close....

But thanks for Lou Haveman, a friend from Grand Rapids MI, for sharing this document with all of us.  Here goes:
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