Palm Sunday 2020

This morning I googled icons of Jesus’ triumphal entry. The one posted above, by the Ukrainian artist Oleksandr Antonyuk, stood out to me not just because of it’s unique visually—the proportions of Jesus’ head and the shape donkey’s body stand out the most—but because it’s lonely. Palm Sunday 2020 will be a lonely one. We won’t be gathered together. We’ll be at home, maybe with family, maybe live-streaming a service, but not together as we’re accustom.

There’s something odd yet fitting about celebrating Palm Sunday during a pandemic. I’ve often told my students that the Gospels are probably easier to embrace for those who see the world through the lens of disorder and brokenness. If life’s going well for you it’s hard to resonate with the desperation of narratives that climax with execution by crucifixion.

But then a pandemic breaks us. Even the most comfortable are uncomfortable. And those who already were suffering, sadly, are even more vulnerable to the harshness of our world. It’s one of those rare moments where we’re all sharing in some form of struggle even if it’s not being felt evenly. But it’s being felt and that opens us up to stories we’ve heard already but needed to hear in a new way.

Palm Sunday does exalt Jesus as King but it also highlights the reality of shattered expectations. Jesus isn’t that kind of King. Jesus will not experience that kind of enthronement. The paradox of the Gospels is that Jesus is the kind of King who rides a humble donkey, whose enthronement is a Roman cross, who in the Johannine tradition has a Kingdom that’s not from this earth. His disciples don’t understand this. His adoring crowds don’t know this. In just a few days their worldview will be shattered.

Many may be asking ‘why?’ this pandemic is happening just as Jesus and his disciples will ask (in a few days, liturgically) how Palm Sunday could morph into ‘Good’ Friday. As regards the pandemic, we can talk about humanity’s responsibility another time because in this situation there’s a lot of it. But for a moment I want to think about divine responsibility as relates to expectations. One reason I enjoy teaching the Book of Job, and why it’s the last part of the Hebrew Bible I cover when I do, is because it undermines all the theodicy of Books like Proverbs and Deuteronomy. It’s (IMO) an absurdist response to the idea we could comprehend the divine mind even if the divine plan was explained to us. I don’t like this for theological reasons, per se (I’m not linking with many Fundamentalists who rebuke us for questioning God), but for literary, human reasons: I don’t think we can understand our suffering and our world in ways that satisfy us when we’re experiencing that suffering. All we can understand is we had expectations about how the world should work, or God should act, and those expectations were wrong.

Like Job, we feel alone when this happens. We feel like we’re the only one being targeted by God. Did Jesus feel this during the Holy Week we’re about to remember? It seems like he did. He asks, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ He asks this less than a week after he rides into Jerusalem as the King, as the Messiah.

But Job isn’t alone. He represents all of us, even if in the extreme. And Jesus wasn’t alone, he represents all of us, even if in the extreme. And now, during this pandemic, we’re not alone. We may feel alone, or at least lonely, but this is a microcosm of the human condition. Our expectations are high, they’re broken, and we’re left wondering why things are the way they are. This pandemic has magnified this reality. And all we can do is let it color this particular Palm Sunday for us so that we read these stories afresh.

Holy Week exists, liturgically, to be experienced. Usually, this is sacramental in nature. Now, it’s in the midst of a world shattering pandemic. We have no choice but to go through this Palm Sunday alone, like Job, and like Jesus, and allow it to speak to us about our expectations. But I don’t say this is to encourage reflecting on Palm Sunday isolating from the rest of Holy Week. For today, yes, let it sink into your soul a bit. But this isn’t the last day. We have six more to go.

Educating in the Era of COVID-19: Week 2

Another week in the books. Another day sitting at home. Another opportunity to worry less about whether we’ll resume this school year and to worry more about whether next school year will be delayed. I’m handling the anxiety of the pandemic well but I worry for those who aren’t. I worry about my students who can easily fall through the cracks if we don’t keep up with them day-to-day. I worry about the financial stability of my government, employer, family-members, friends. But overall, all things considered, I’m doing good.

Next week should be a good one. I’m interviewing several scholars and practitioners about their work including Joseph Laycock (Satanism), Kevin R. Daugherty (the ‘Convergence’ Movement, i.e, liturgical Pentecostals), and James McGrath (the doctrine of the ascension). A few others are being lined up or have been lined up for the weeks ahead. I’ll share my interviews here will permission.

Day 9
Day 8
Day 7
Day 6
Week 1

The Apocalypse as an ‘Unveiling’

Elizabeth Dias wrote a great article for The New York Times titled ‘The Apocalypse as an “Unveiling”: What Religion Teaches Us About the End Times’. It explores Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Buddhist interpretations of the apocalypse as well as its depiction in popular culture (e.g. ‘The Walking Dead’). What stood out to me was the emphasis on apocalypticism as a revealing or an ‘unveiling’. The apocalypse doesn’t have to be a one time event at the end of the world. The apocalypse can occur multiple times when this ‘age’ is brought to an end and a new ‘age’ begins.

In my lifetime, there have been two apocalyptic events in this fashion that have changed my world forever: 9/11 and now the COVID-19 pandemic. Each of these events not only ended the world as many of us knew it but exposed the world for what it is. Whether or not that helps humans reimagine what the world could be is TBD.

Educating in the Era of COVID-19: Day 9

Our administration made the decision to remain virtual until at least May 4th. So, April’s classes will be online in their entirety. I’m starting to adjust to this schedule now. This means that if we come back to campus we’ll do so for about two weeks, max. But I’m doubtful that this will happen.

Today I did lesson planning for my Religion in the United States class. They’ll be learning about the Scientologists next week. That should be interesting. Later today our Philosophy Club meets again.

I need these days to have a schedule. A routine is necessary. Otherwise, even for an introvert like myself, all this time in my home will drive up a wall.

Day 8
Day 7
Day 6
Week 1

Educating in the Era of COVID-19: Day 8

We are a week and a half into this adventure. I’d say it’s going smoothly. Mostly.

When they’re not going smoothly, it’s tricky. How do you know when a student isn’t doing their work for the same reasons they didn’t do homework before the pandemic or if there’s problems that are actually preventing them from doing their work. Accountability is difficult to maintain.

Today was the second Wednesday where I checked in with my classes via Google Meet. It went well. It was good to see their faces. These meetings are minimally academic and mostly for morale. And that’s a good thing, I think.

Day 7
Day 6
Week 1

A review of Lee Strobel’s ‘The Case for Christ’

This morning I saw this tweet and quickly responded, ‘April Fools’ jokes work better when they’re not as obvious!’

Well, the joke’s on me because it wasn’t a joke. It’s a real review by two of my favorite podcasters. So, I was pranked, accidentally!

Why do I share this? Well, I think it’s important to soundly critique this book. Not only is it clearly apologetical but it’s misleading. When I read The Case for Christ in my early twenties I was wowed. I thought Strobel was a hard-headed skeptic who had done these interviews from that position who had in-turn been convinced of the accuracy of the Gospels. This isn’t the case. Strobel had been an active Christian (even a pastor!) for sometime prior to working on this book. Whether Strobel intended to mislead is not for me to say…but he did and the book does.

To the point about being apologetics: it’s written as if the scholars being interviewed represent the guild. They’re not. They represented evangelical Christianity. This doesn’t mean they can’t be correct about a lot. It just means the book was misleading to my twenty-something mind. This podcast episode does a good job of exposing the over-simplifications and outright errors of this book.

So, it wasn’t a joke, but I’m glad I checked because it’s probably a more in-depth evaluation of the book than it ever deserved!

Educating in the Era of COVID-19: Day 7

Life is usually cyclical but now it’s hyper-cyclical. Today is Tuesday, right? I hope so because I uploaded class material for my student who are supposed to receive it on Tuesdays and I hosted an online advisory with my advisees. So yes, it must be Tuesday!

Four of my eleven advisees checked-in. They’re doing well. One is four chapters ahead in her required reading of (the all too-fitting) 1984. I’m sure her English teacher will be proud. Others find themselves ahead in some classes and just on time in others. Nothing completely out of the norm except the four chapters anecdote.

Personally, I’m a little stir crazy today. I don’t like this sense of unknowing. I’m already having conversations about what to do with my summer school class. I’m already thinking about what it looks like to start next year online come August. I don’t know what will happen in either scenario but the CDC Director (and thank you for your honesty, sir) gives me no assurance when he says the virus will be with us for months to come. Ugh.

Day 6
Week 1

Educating in the Era of COVID-19: Day 6

Week 1 is in the books. Now, we’re into our second week of online education. It feels like a routine is forming. I post lessons on Monday-Tuesday, Thursday-Friday. I meet with my advisees through Google Meet on Tuesdays and my students, class-by-class, on Wednesdays. Our Philosophy Club gathers the same way on Monday and Thursday. Tuesday and Thursday will be my major lesson planning days. You get the idea.

Now, my employer hasn’t said anything official about canceling brick-and-mortar classes through April but federal social distancing guidelines are set to April 30th it begins to feel like this school year will be digital until the end. Again, this hasn’t been made official but mentally I’m preparing for this probability. Our graduation would be the 21st of May meaning even if life goes back to ‘normal’ it will be with only a few weeks remaining. How much of that time will be needed to reintegrate students back into their day-to-day schedules? How much of it will be taken by end-of-year events? Even if we do return in May we’re returning just to wrap up the year.

I wonder what seniors are thinking? This was when it was time for dances, and ceremonies, and announcing college choices, and so much more. Now, that may be taken from them. It’s sad to watch but we must stay safe until this pandemic passes. Really, we don’t have a choice though. If we push people back to the old normal we may postpone our reality return until months down the lines. In fact, there may not be an old normal to which we can return. So, our goal is to make sure the new normal includes things like college choices and graduation ceremonies. We lose this year so that this new normal can emerge faster.

‘You are what you’re born of.’

One of my students, in summarizing Nicodemus’ encounter with Jesus (John 3), said the passage teaches ‘You are what you’re born of.’ I think this is like the old adage, ‘You are what you eat.’

Never heard it put that way! You’re free to use it in a future sermon.

The Lentiest Lent

I’ve seen this image appear across social media the past few days and while humorous it’s also a seriously accurate take. While I wish this pandemic had never come upon us, it seems that if we have to go through it, Lent is the perfect season. As Richard Beck wrote:

Maybe I’m weird, but I’ve been grateful that it’s been Lent during COVID-19. Lent has helped me during this season–pondering mortality, dealing with losses and restrictions, dealing with disappointment, facing my idols of security and self-sufficiency.

– ‘Covid-19 and Lent’

What seems to be a lifetime ago, I mentioned that I’ve been practicing vegetarianism for Lent. It’s coincidental with this decision that COVID-19 became a global problem, in part, because of how animals were captured, treated, and consumed. I didn’t decide to try vegetarianism as a response. While it would be foolish to make an eternal declaration about my diet, I can say there’s a good chance I’ll continue this lifestyle, or at the very least practice some sort of meat-minimal flexitarianism. The origins of this virus have shown me that we must be much more thoughtful about how we treat animals and how we consume them if we do.

I live in Texas, so Wuhan is the other side of the world, but I can’t think of anything that has driven home for me the concept (which Buddhism made clearest to me) of our interconnectedness/interdependence more than this pandemic. I’m may be a human animal but I’m an animal and an animal that’s connected to other animals. I may be an American but I’m an American human and a human that’s connected to other humans. I don’t think I’ll ever go a semester teaching Buddhist concepts such as dependent-origination and interbeing with referencing this pandemic because nothing has made these ideas as real. As Thomas Friedman wrote many years ago now: the world is flat. There’s no indication that nationalist and populist impulses will change this. China may be on the other side of the planet but it’s also right next door.

This week, Bishop Curry, the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, recorded a Lenten reflection video where he reflected upon Matthew 22.34-40. He interpreted this passage as being about how we live in uncertain times, in uncertain territory, as Jesus was living as he prepared for his Passion, and as we’re living during this pandemic. His take-away is that Jesus’ words here—love God, love neighbor, love yourself—are words that can guide us. And he’s right. For those of us who believe in a good, loving Creator (sometimes against the odds), we must hold to our hope. We practice this hope by loving the invisible God through loving the visible neighbor and the visible person in the mirror.

My wife used to teach her students this Mayan precept, In Lak’ech, that is fitting for us today (English version):

You are my other me
If I do harm to you,
I do harm to myself.
If I love and respect you,
I love and respect myself.

Whether it be Jesus’ Great Commandment, the Buddhist doctrines of Interbeing and Dependent-Originatation, or the Mayan precept of In Lak’ech, we must live through this together. We have no other choice. May the Lenten season remind us not only that we come from dust and to dust we shall return but also that we are one in this process and no one of us is free from the destiny of all of us.