A Coronavirus Gathering | 3. Be Thou My Vision
In The City of God, Saint Augustine profoundly explores the differences between the City of God and the City of Man - one built on love of God, the other on love of self.
Since the beginning of time, the city of man oppresses the city of God through injustice, evil, and the ravages of a broken planet. As we lament the terror of Covid-19 and the virus of hate, we remind ourselves that suffering is nothing new. Augustine writes —
So it falls out that in this world, in evil days like these, the Church walks onward like a wayfarer stricken by the world's hostility, but comforted by the mercy of God. Nor does this state of affairs date only from the days of Christ's and His Apostles' presence on earth. It was never any different from the days when the first just man, Abel, was slain by his ungodly brother. So shall it be until this world is no more.
In the end, though, The City of God, through mystery and love, is destined to overcome.
Perhaps the greatest temptation we face, when foundations shake, resides in the desire to confuse the one city for the other. Our fear leads us to demand political power in search of answers.
When the religious leaders asked Jesus about the correct relationship with the Roman Empire, he asked for a coin. Mark 12: 16-17 tells the story.
They brought the coin, and he asked them, ‘Whose image is this? And whose inscription?’ ‘Caesar's,’ they replied. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Give back to Caesar what is Caesar's and to God what is God's.’ And they were amazed at him.
In the religious pursuit of political power, we place our trust in the wrong kingdom. History paints in indigo a canvas of horrors — bloody crusades, endless wars, decapitations, burnings, and assorted tortures — when Christianity climbs into bed with politicians. For good reason our nation’s founding fathers separated church from state.
In the growing divide between the left and right, I fear many Christians fuel hatred when they insist on building the City of God through the power of the City of Man. We need to lament a misguided allegiance. We best remind ourselves we belong to an upside-down Kingdom where power is not hoarded but freely given away for the sake of the other. Instead of demanding our rights, we seek service.
In his brilliant minimal style, Jesus sums up the law: Love God, love others. The far left and far right get it wrong in the delusion that the Kingdom comes primarily through politics of order or progress. You can’t legislate love.
Pursuing power serves to shield us from the risk of love. King Jesus goes on to die a criminal’s death at Golgotha, a barren rock in the shape of a skull.
Through his unimaginable suffering and death, Jesus teaches us that life in the Kingdom often splits open your guts.
Political power and religious authority share a need for control. Coronavirus gives us an opportunity to lament, repent, and see, once again, that God alone is sovereign. May this realization move us to shed religion and embrace the vision of Jesus for life and work in the Kingdom. Living together on this breathtakingly beautiful and fucked-up planet, Jesus calls us to a dangerous faith that often makes little sense.
Instead of a regimented march, with certain precise steps, following Jesus is more a dance, like the one between proton and electron. To lament and hope, at the same time, acknowledges power resides in such dynamic tension. Following Christ often feels counterintuitive, running against the grain of our culture of profit, success, and comfort. The early Christians, fiercely persecuted, understood: Faith engages great risk and suffering.
Working in collaboration with others, Hank Lueck recently started recording old hymns. He asked me to add visuals to Be Thou My Vision, which it was my joy to do. The lyrics are attributed to sixth-century Irish poet and monk, Dallan Forgaill. According to mythology, he wrote this hymn to commemorate the faith of Saint Patrick, a missionary to Ireland more than a century earlier. In defiance of the King’s decree, Saint Patrick lit a fire in defiance of pagan ritual.
The last stanza of Be Thou My Vision focuses on the sovereignty of God:
High King of heaven, my victory won
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heav'n's Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, O Ruler of all.
As we take and look and listen to Hank’s art may we be reminded of a kingdom perspective radically different than the one driving the city of man.
So impressed was the king with Saint Patrick’s faith that he did not execute him, as the law demanded, but blessed him to continue his missionary work.
May we fearlessly embrace again the vision of the real King.