Chris Yaw

When I look at the news articles I am most apt to click on, I say with no small amount of embarrassment, that stories of shady clerics and fallen ministers are usually a sure bet.

Of course I tell myself I do this so I can stay informed, and even pray for my poor, unfortunate colleagues. But I have no doubt that my interest is also fueled by no small amount of schadenfreude.

This of course, is a German word that means to take joy in the tragedy of others.

And while there is no equivalent word for it in English, it is an internationally recognized source of human pleasure: the French speak of joie maligne. In Danish it is skadefryd. And even for a group of people known as the the Melanesians, who live on the remote Nissan Atoll in Papua New Guinea, it is banbanam.

And the joy it causes has been proven time and time again. A recent study in Würzburg, Germany found that soccer fans smiled more quickly and more broadly when their rival team missed a penalty shot, then when their own team scored a goal.

And if schadenfreude means taking joy in another's misery, then the word mitfreud means the opposite - to find joy in another's success.

And that's where our Gospel takes us this Sunday as we hear Jesus give us the one commandment that we all know well: to love one another as I have loved you.

Trading schadenfreude for mitfreud is no easy task - were it so, we would have no need of this commandment.

And getting there means taking on the challenge of looking at others the way Jesus does -

Remember, it’s not just to love others - but to love others as Jesus loves them.

That means commending not condemning -

Complimenting not criticizing -

Building up not putting down.

To love like Jesus loves means that we are encourager, cheerleaders, and proponents of those with whom we share the journey.

What shape is that taking in our lives?

Who needs encouraging - and how can you do it right now?

On the week we Americans celebrate our mothers, comes a ramp-up on the debate around motherhood itself.

Leaked documents from the Supreme Court have ignited the firestorm that is the abortion debate in the United States.

On both sides are vehement protesters, convinced that their position is correct, and no small number of them are Christians, people who love Jesus, and portend to follow his teachings.

On the right are many Conservative, Evangelical and Catholic Christians who equate this development with the end of slavery. They quote Bible verses about God's loving care for humans even as they are in the womb and have made their stance a veritable litmus test to Christianity itself: if one is not pro-life, one cannot be a Christian.

On the other side, are many mainline Christians who equate this development as the beginning of slavery. They also quote Bible verses on the dignity of human life, the importance of respecting others, and the freedom God gives us to run our own lives. These folks point out that Jesus never spoke about abortion and when the Bible does allude to the subject, a pro-life stance is not always clear.

Indeed, this debate is frequently characterized as a choice between two highly regarded and deeply held American freedoms: the freedom of autonomous and individual choice without government intervention - and the obligation our society holds very dearly to protect the vulnerable.

It is yet another hot button topic in which we Christians of honest conviction see things differently.

It is yet another hot button topic in which those who are not Christians, will look at the ways that we believers disagree with discerning eyes: if knowing Jesus turns me into people like that, do I want to consider Christianity?

After all, nobody is argued into following Jesus, they are loved into following Jesus.

And so, how are we supposed to proceed? What is to be our public witness? Are we to adopt worldly, scorched Earth tactics that allow us to demonize, denigrate, and demean those who don't believe the way we do because the severity of the topic warrants it?

Or is our call to demonstrate the love, respect, generosity, kindness, and love that are at the heart of our faith, to define our public witness?

We can never forget that how we treat other people, especially those with whom we disagree, is how we treat God.

We don't get a pass because we personally believe this topic to be more important than others.

By all means, let us be passionate about the policies, stances, and personal convictions that we harbor. Let us lobby, protest, and debate with all we have.

But let us be very careful how we do so.

Let us pray for those with whom we disagree, let us respect them, let us be kind and thoughtful toward them. And let us remember that they will know we are Christians not by our political leanings, but by our love.

What if the thing we fear most, suddenly disappeared?

Many surveys show that our biggest fear is dying; leaving familiar surroundings, saying goodbye to prized possessions, planned experiences, the precious people we love, and going someplace or no place at all.

We fear death so much that we deny or deflect it, after all thinking about death can be scary, creepy, and downright depressing.

During this 50-day season of Easter that subject comes up a lot. In church we hear stories of Jesus and his life after death.

We hear how the resurrected Christ magically appears to his disciples, goes through locked doors, and is not always recognized by even his best friends.

So there's a lot of mystery, especially when we remember all the promises Jesus made before he died, promises about the life that awaits us at resurrection - as a beautiful reunion with those we love and the loving God who gave them all to us.

A theologian named Martin Luther was once asked to address this mystery - of what happens when we die. And he used a simple analogy of a fetus moving through the birth canal, asking, "Does that fetus have any idea what awaits her when she is born into earthly life?"

In the same way, how can any of us right now understand what awaits us when we are born into resurrected life?

One thing we can say, is that in both cases, what awaits us is the presence of God and an unimaginable adventure bathed in God's essence, which is love.

So, what are our fears?

How are we entrusting them to God?

How are we taking on the Easter challenge, to live into God's promises of care and provision, and the cessation of our biggest fear, that we need not be frightened of death - so that we might more fully embrace the relief, freedom, and joy, that is Easter?

Ours is an increasingly, "doubt-everyone, trust-no-one," world. Everybody is under suspicion. The government, the courts, churches, there are few if any institutions that are beyond reproach and widely considered worthy of broad confidence.

We don't trust each other.

Why? Maybe because we don't know each other. Research says the average American has fewer good friends than they did a generation ago. Or maybe because we don't forgive each other, as we hold on to grudges, and stockpile dark memories, choosing to permanently label people for the worst things they do, resisting the once common habit of giving people the benefit of the doubt . Or maybe it's because we are increasingly isolated from one another, we get siloed into gated communities, both geographically and digitally, surrounding ourselves only with people who look, think, and live like we do. And perhaps we have drunk too freely from the poisonous brew of materialism and self-centeredness that can breed suspicion.

Of course there's a place for doubt in our world. Saint Thomas shows us that in Sunday's gospel. However when faced with irrefutable evidence, Thomas put doubt to rest. He didn't look for loopholes, excuses, or alternative facts. He humbly accepted his shortsightedness, and with common sense born of Occam's razor, faced the hard truth that, yes, Christ is risen.

Among the litany of negative cultural trends, resisting our "doubt-everyone, trust-no-one" tendency calls us to cultivate respect for others, to be quick to forgive, to have courage to reach out of ourselves and to make and maintain vital friendships, especially with people who aren't like us and who may not be easy to get along with. And finally, to draw nearer to Christ, who is the source of all truth.

During this Easter season we do well to contemplate the power of God, which is the power to put doubt into perspective, and to accept truth no matter how hard that may be.

The earliest Christian symbols we have are the fish and the lamb, because, to early Christians, they spoke of those aspects of God that fed them and cared for them. Crucifixion was still in practice and to wear a cross around one's neck would be like you and me wearing an electric chair around ours.

So it took a few hundred years for the cross, which is prehistoric in origin, to be adopted by Christians as a significant symbol. It was just an empty cross, no image of Jesus on it, at least for a few centuries, and then the first images of Jesus appeared - which were of a spotless, healthy, and well-groomed, two-dimensional savior.

It was only a thousand years ago before we began to see something like a three-dimensional, honest portrayal of the grotesque suffering of Jesus. The crucifix, became very popular in Catholic and some Orthodox circles, as we began to look at Jesus not as a faraway example of divinity touching humanity, but as suffering being integral to God, because suffering is integral to love.

Holy Week, this week, is when we comb the dissonance between joy and suffering. And we discover that the closer we get to God, the closer suffering and happiness seem to coalesce.

It's because we find that in our pain we discover empathy for people like us who are hurting - and we discover opportunities to be companions to others who suffer.

Our empathy - our feeling what they’re feeling - our coming alongside others who are hurting - ironically then, produces fulfillment and even joy - because we are serving them with love and affection.

Friends, we are all going through some tough stuff - we’re all suffering to one degree or another. And it’s this week especially when Jesus comes alongside us to say - keep on keeping on - it’s not meaningless - I’m up to something. I see your suffering as a window into companionship with others who are hurting - and in our care and concern - we can find the happiness of bring comfort to others.

When Ukraine was invaded, a lot of eyes were on Volodymyr Zalensky, its president.

Would he stay? Would he run?

Would he fight? Would he flee?

His decision to remain in his position and his country had a two-fold impact:

First, on himself, he would feel fulfilled and proud because he would be living up to his ideals and convictions.

And second, people would be looking at his example, one that could inspire and encourage them to live up to their ideals as well.

Our decisions to remain true to our convictions and to honor our virtues - is the point here. And it is illustrated no more clearly than what we will be commemorating this weekend - Palm Sunday.

Here we see that our Lord Jesus Christ made the most difficult decision of his life, in setting his eyes on Jerusalem and the mock trial, conviction, torture, and death that awaited him.

Jesus did not run from what was before him, but took the difficult path, the road that honored his convictions and virtues, even when, at points, he was doubtful and even convinced that God had abandoned him.

How many of us can relate?

How many of us are facing difficulties of our own, that are threatening to break us?

We are tempted by the crush of discouragement, by apathy - to give up and give in.

And it’s at this point we’re asked to look to Jesus — at what he did - and trust that the same God who brought him through, can bring us through.

Friends, things are so rough out there - we are facing unprecedented worries, fears, and anxieties -

God knows this.

And God cares.

So God gave us Jesus - as a source of strength, and a living example, that we, like our Lord, might make that brave decision, to move forward, and get though it.

Saints, keep on keeping on, things are tough, but you can make it, God saw that Jesus did, and God can see that we can, too.

The highway to heaven has a lot of exit ramps.

Here we are driving along, and all of a sudden up pops a project, a hobby, a relationship, etc. And it becomes so absorbing we have to pull off the highway and check it out. This can take a few minutes, a few days, a few years...

Stay long enough and we form new habits, opinions, and even lifestyles that keep us preoccupied, distracted, and off the highway - so that our pursuit of Christ - which is our heart's desire - gets sidelined.

Been there, done that?

But while the highway to heaven has a lot of off ramps, it also has a lot of on-ramps.

These are the invitations we get to come back to Christ - which is what Lent is all about - to pray, ponder scripture, choose Godly influences, and pursue acts of goodness and kindness to others.

God is nudging us, inpiring us, and encouraging us in all sorts of ways to take the on-ramp and get back on the highway.

So where are we?

What gets us off the highway?

What gets us back on?

And how might we better stay focused so that we don't get off that road in the first place?

I once had a boss who, at every staff meeting, called out and commended a specific member of the team. His intention was to encourage and inspire us fellow workers, but all too often the results were petty jealousy and envy, as we looked at one another and muttered under our breath, "Why did they get called out this week? Doesn't the boss know I'm doing good stuff too?"

I'd often have to stop myself and say, 'Why can't I be more generous? Why can't I be happy when somebody else succeeds? Am I that insecure?'

Our failure to rejoice in the joy of others often stems from our outlook on the world.

And it starts at a young age. You may remember in school every time somebody got an 'A' on a paper, it was one less 'A' to be doled out to the rest of us.

We are programmed to look at the world as a zero-sum game, a place of scarcity, where there's only so much to go around and when somebody else gets it, I don't! Instead of looking at the world as a place of abundance, where there is plenty to go around, which is where Jesus takes us in Sunday's gospel.

That's when we will hear that iconic story of the Prodigal Son, the youngster who demands his Father's inheritance early, then goes and blows it on loose living, only to return when it dawns on him that the loving home that he left behind was actually what he was looking for all along.

When his older brother hears about his father's acceptance of this Prodigal Son, he becomes furious, jealous, and consumed with the same feelings we often feel when someone else gets a gift that we don't.

And what the older son does not understand is the Father's generosity, the abundance of God's love, that the loving home now shown to the younger son has been there all along for everybody.

I wonder how often God is telling you and me to chill out, because there's enough for everybody, everything's going to be okay, your time will come, for we are always, always, in the loving hands of our heavenly father.

So next time something good happens to somebody else, and those feelings of petty jealousy and envy come knocking, let's find a way to put things in perspective and look at those feelings as reminders of God's grace, God's goodness to all, and let's find a way to bless that other person, just as God does, knowing that God's abundance isn't just for that person, but for everybody.

My friend Rita was home from college and went to visit her elderly grandmother.

Noticing a messy kitchen, she got busy cleaning up by opening the dishwasher door and emptying it, walking around the kitchen putting things away.

That's when Grandma walked in, not noticing the open dishwasher door, tripping over it, falling to the ground, and getting ambulanced to the hospital with a very serious head injury.

Already a bit crotchety, Grandma immediately heaped blame on Rita, scolding her and telling family members it was all her fault. Family attitudes toward Rita got even worse when Grandma died of that head injury.

Confused, ostracized, and broken, Rita came looking for answers. And the place we began was with her. Rita was traumatized. This series of events had carved an impression in her brain, and created very sticky images she couldn't get away from - that continuously told her she was a careless, reckless, person and unworthy of living because she had taken another life.

We got Rita a therapist. And we came around her with words of truth to combat the negativity, assuring her that she was a good person and that she did well not to define herself by the worst thing she'd ever done.

In this Sunday's Gospel Jesus takes up a similar issue when he's asked, 'Why do deadly, random accidents happen? Who's to blame? God? Us? Someone else?'

And like Rita's friends, Jesus doesn't start there, instead, Jesus starts with them. We can't change what happened and we don't know how it did. What we can do is change ourselves - working to heal ourselves. Events like this can be used for transformation. We can take steps to minimize the damage and reverse the Negativity Train that seeks to shatter us and flatten us.

The suffering that surrounds us - from personal trauma, to COVID, to the war in Ukraine, we are all affected, some of us are traumatized. How are we tending to that? Are we taking our roundedness seriously? How well are we listening to ourselves - treating ourselves - and what does that look like? How are we being invited to use these occasions to do God's healing work in the world - and in ourselves?

I watched a woman pull out a Kleenex and dab a tear from her eye as she read the latest update on the tragedy in the Ukraine.

I saw a post from a pastor on Twitter garner thousands of likes earlier this week when he lobbied for an end to U.S. imports of Russian oil.

And I heard the news reports of unprecedented unity in our congress, especially these days, around legislation poised to constrain the aggressor in Ukraine, as well as aid war victims.

The Russian invasion of Ukraine has set off a barrage of strong emotion, and not simply vengeance, violence, and retribution, but of sympathy, compassion, empathy, and heartfelt lament.

Putin's flagrant power grab has revealed an amazing depth of worldwide compassion and care for others that we must highlight and build upon.

The outrage we are feeling against Injustice and innocent suffering must be channeled to build the peaceful world that Jesus asks us to bring down from heaven. And that world is not built by selfishness, greed, and taking from our neighbor something that isn't ours.

It is built upon the shoulders of our better angels, mutual respect, honesty, and a determination to work for the common good.

A peaceful world, a compassionate world, a world that I want to live in, evolves not from vice, but virtue.

So, in this second week of Lent, our season of studying and mirroring the virtues of Christ, what does this say to us?

How are we being called to resist selfishness and division, and to not resist a generous, empathetic, and compassionate urge?

What does that look like for you and me? What can we do, today, to obey those inclinations of generosity, care for others, and empathy not just for Ukraine, but for our own worlds, our own daily lives?

We know that love is inside us, how are we going to let it loose?

(Image: The rock on a mount near Jericho where Jesus allegedly stood during The Three Temptations)

Sharing a pizza with a friend the other day I asked him if he wanted a third slice. He said he really did, but he refused because he was sticking to a new diet.

I asked him why he was dieting, and he said that he'd recently been to the doctor and the doctor had noticed some health markers were off and said that if he wanted to stay healthy he'd stick to this new diet.

So my friend said he was going to alter his diet because he wanted to be around for his wife and kids.

Today, Ash Wednesday, many of us will hear the familiar words of the prophet Isaiah who had similar reasonings when he chastised Israel for fasting solely for themselves, and not fasting for other people: Is this not the fast that I choose - to share your bread with the hungry,

and bring the homeless poor into your house;

The true fast, Isaiah says, is done so that our discomfort benefits other people.

Today many of us are altering our diets, in the Episcopal Church fasting is recommended twice a year, Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. And in our individualistic and narcissistic world we're tempted to think that fasting is just about us, our own spirituality, our own personal Jesus - and we can forget that God's plan is not about one of us as much as it is about all of us.

So as we go through this sacred, holy day and season of awareness, sanctification, and commitment, how is God calling us not just to improve ourselves through our spiritual practices, but in the next 40 days, how can we improve the world we live in?

May our fasting be intentional, inspiring, and even joyful, as we seek first not our own well-being, but the well-being of others.

What kind of change do you want to make?

Do you want to be more fit, physically, spiritually, mentally? Do you want to be more of a peacemaker, reconciler, advocate for justice? Do you want to be more resilient in the face of change? Do you want to be more empathetic towards others? Do you want to find a way to let go of the things that bother you?

I ask this because a week from today we are going to kick off the holy season of Lent. Research shows that when we look to a season, look to a specific day, like New Year's, a birthday, or Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent, we can find a solid foundation for transformation.

This Sunday in church we will hear the epic story of Jesus ascending a mountain with his best friends and being transformed before them into an image of light, offering these close friends an icon of encouragement and faithfulness for the difficult times that lay ahead for Jesus and the Jesus movement, suffering, death, and resurrection.

It is a transfiguration that is so obviously linked with the divine. And you and I wonder how the transformations we want to make are also linked to the Divine - if taking intentional steps to draw nearer to God can help us make the kind of changes we'd like to see?

In the week ahead, let's think about Lent, and the transformation God is calling us to.

Let's think about what we would like to be like, advocate for, and take action about in 40 days time. Let's think about the virtues and habits we will need to get there. The good news of the Gospel is that yes, things can change, we can change, we can make decisions and take actions that bring more justice, reconciliation, healing, and love into the world: how can Lent 2022 help us so to do?

Chris Yaw

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Schadenfreude vs Mit freude

Christians and Abortion: How Shall We Disagree?

Are You Afraid to Die?

Our “Doubt-Everyone, Trust-No-One," World

Is There a Point to My Suffering?

Fight or Flee...

Highway to Heaven

Rejoicing in the Joy of Others

Heal Thyself!

A Peaceful World Evolves Not From Vice, But From Virtue

The Deal with Fasting

Lent: Time to Make a Change

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