It’s been said a writer is someone on whom nothing is lost.  I imagine Tolstoy as one who in any situation would absorb all the sensory details so that it would come out later in his writing.  It is lovely how he can describe a scene.  For novelists, it is hard to beat the two Russians Dostoevsky and Tolstoy, and of the two Tolstoy is better at portraying life itself in its detail.  He also has an ability to probe beneath the surface of his characters and show what they are thinking and feeling in every encounter.  Life is more than what meets the eye or ear.  I first read Anna Karenina during my senior year of high school 31 years ago.  We joked about it as our ‘Russian soap opera.’  The story meant more to me now, of course, because I have lived longer and known loss and joy.  This is a rich and wonderful novel.  I read the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation, which is excellent.

(image: Greta Garbo as Anna Karenina)

I wonder if an overlooked culprit in this conflict between right and left is the word justice.  Both sides pursue justice as they understand it.  But when we equate our cause with justice, that puts anyone who disagrees on the side of injustice. In other words, the language of justice is inherently polarizing. The Sermon On the Mount says, “Beware of practicing your piety before others in other to be seen by them.” Literally it says “beware of making justice before others.”  The immediate context is alms for the poor, which should be done in secret rather than for show, but the problem with ‘making justice’ has a wider scope.  Whenever I put my concern for justice out on public display, so to speak, there is an inherent danger to my spirit and to my relationships with others who disagree with my vision of justice.  It also makes the (breathtaking) assumption that I know exactly what justice is in this case.  A passion for justice leaves little room for humility or reticence, and it makes conversation and consensus that much harder to find.

Since I quoted the Bible, it also makes sense to quote Shakespeare:  “Though justice be thy plea, consider this, that in the course of justice none of us will see salvation.  We do pray for mercy.  And that same prayer doth teach us to render the deeds of mercy.”  In the end, mercy weighs more than justice.  If I see little mercy in the anti-gay crusade of the Religious Right, I also see little mercy in the anti-conservative rhetoric on the Religious Left.  It is hard to have a passion for justice and for mercy.  It’s like trying to serve two masters — you will follow one or the other.

Yet, I suspect, there are many United Methodists who, like me, find themselves among the muddled middle.  Don’t get me wrong, I can be as polarizing as the next person. Anyone who knows me, knows that I can be opinionated and often passionately obstinate. I confess my failure, in this regard. I seek to do better, by the leading of Grace. Even so, as I watched General Conference (thankfully not a delegate), I was keenly aware of both sides of most positions. I could see the value in both sides (and often the theological basis for both sides). What I couldn’t see very often was the willingness of the “poles”—or those who argued most vehemently for a position—to listen and, perhaps, even change their minds. Or at the very least, nuance their position…

I don’t have the answer to what ails us as a church. I’m not sure anyone does. But this semester, I have been teaching a course in John Wesley’s theology, specifically focused on sanctification and holy living. In the early annual conferences of the Methodist movement (well before any such gargantuan as General Conference emerged), they began the conference “after some time spent in prayer.” (See the Minutes of the First Annual Conference) We do have worship at General Conference, sometimes very meaningful worship. I wonder what might happen, though, if we spent the first 24 hours gathered in prayer, silent prayer especially, and listening for God? No politicking or maneuvering allowed! Can we expect holy conferencing to be holy if we haven’t quieted ourselves to listen for God?

Robinson teaches at St Paul School of Theology.

Eternal God, we thank you for Jesus,
who brought hope to the distressed,
promise to the despairing,
and healing to the afflicted.
In him there is the gift of eternal life to all who believe.
As Christ is the vine, so you call us the branches,
and you send us forth to bear the fruit of love.

Let love lead us to be more forgiving
in our personal and family lives,
and to be a reconciling force in the world.
When enemies taunt us,
assure us of your presence
as we seek patience and inner strength.
Amid tensions caused by misunderstanding,
suspicion, or lack of trust,
send your Spirit of insight and hope into our hearts.
Help us to make the first move to those we have offended,
forsaking pride and seeking peace.

Let love lead us to be more daring.
Give us the courage to speak out
on behalf of the voiceless.
Let us not be afraid to venture into places
where we are not in control.
Fill us with confidence that you will not desert us,
the assurance that what we do is in keeping with your will.
Instead of allowing ourselves to get frustrated,
set our eyes on those injustices that we can overcome.

Let love lead us to be more trusting.
Give us faith to follow Christ in our daily life.
Help our words of confession
to become acts of compassion.
May we imitate your generous love
in all that we do and say and give,
believing that you can work wonders among us.

(From When We Gather: A Book of Prayers for Worship, by James G. Kirk.  Fifth Sunday of Easter, Year B.  With slight adaptations.)

Friday afternoon I got a tattoo at Ink Fever in downtown Adrian.  I’d thought of getting one for years, and when two friends got tattoos there last month, that was the last nudge needed.  For a design, I settled on a Celtic cross, using one from the title page of my prayer book.  I took it in ahead of time so the artist could look at it.  We set the date for May 4.

I invited my wife and a couple of friends to watch. It took a while for the artist to set up, longer than to draw the tattoo itself.  There was time to look at the Bob Marley posters on the walls and the T-shirt on the ceiling whose slogan I can’t repeat.  Other patrons in the shop had multiple tattoos and piercings.  I felt out of place in my virgin skin.  The artist’s college diploma hung on the wall, along with her license as a ‘Certified Operator of Body Art’ from the county health department.  The actual drawing process did hurt, but not too much.  Mine is as simple as tattoos come.  One color, plain outline.  (This elaborate tattoo won the artist recognition.)

A Celtic cross blends a Christian symbol with a circle, which I take to represent the world itself.  God is in creation as well as in Christ.  Nature and scripture bring God to us, in other words.  That’s why I chose it.  But why get one indelibly marked on the body?  That’s a harder question to answer.  I suppose you get a tattoo so that your very skin will say something about what’s important to you.

At home I washed the tattoo with anti-bacterial soap and put a thin layer of Vitamin A and D ointment on it.  It was then I remembered words from St Paul: “From now on, let no one make trouble for me; for I carry the marks of Jesus branded on my body.”

Lectionary Readings
Psalms 47; 147:12-20; 68; 113
Exodus 34:1-17
1 Thessalonians 2:13-20
Matthew 5:21-26

Selected Verses
Psalm 147:17-18
He hurls down hail like crumbs —
who can stand before his cold?
He sends out his word, and melts them;
he makes his wind blow, and the waters flow.

Exodus 34:8
And Moses quickly bowed his head toward the earth, and worshiped.

1 Thessalonians 5:13
When you received the word of God that you heard from us, you accepted it not as a human word but as what it really is, God’s word, which is also at work in you believers.

Matthew 5:22
But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. (NRSV)

Making dinner today for a family of six in the church, plus having lunch with a woman who recently lost her son. Thinking about a verse from today’s lectionary: “So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.” This is the essence of ministry.

The East Side of Adrian is the low income section of town.  It’s where the Po’ Folks live.  But what they lack in property values, they have in great murals.  These two are along Tecumseh Street, where I was today trying to deliver food to the Daily Bread soup kitchen, but they are closed on Mondays.  Have to try again Tuesday.  Few in my congregation live on the East Side, and I am the only one on the church staff who does.