Fighting the Good Fight

 

I often find myself in a cycle when it comes to sharing political content online. Initially, I feel strongly compelled to post about issues I care deeply about and engage in the discussions. However, after a while, my own posts can become overwhelming and a source of anxiety due to the often divisive and upsetting nature of online political discourse. 

This leads me to eventually delete those very posts. It's crucial to understand that this isn't because my convictions have weakened or because I'm afraid to express my political views – quite the opposite. My desire to share comes from a genuine place of wanting to make my voice heard. However, I've also made a conscious decision to curate my social media into a space that offers a counter-narrative to the negativity and anger that can easily dominate online interactions. 

The world can feel saturated with hurtful news and conflict, and my hope is that my corner of the internet can be a place where light, hope, refreshment, and love can prevail. I firmly believe in 'fighting the good fight' and staying engaged with important issues, but for me, that fight looks less like constant public debate on my personal feed and more like actively nurturing a positive environment, both for my own well-being and for those who connect with me here. It's about contributing to the good in a different way, by offering a space for respite and encouragement amidst the often turbulent online landscape.

Crucially, I want to emphasize that I hold absolutely no judgment for those who choose to engage with political issues online in a more direct or consistent manner. I understand and respect that there are many valid and necessary ways to advocate for change and make one's voice heard. My approach is simply what feels most sustainable and beneficial for my own mental well-being and the kind of online space I personally wish to cultivate. We are all navigating this complex world and the digital landscape in our own ways, and I believe that diverse approaches to engagement are ultimately valuable.

Love,

+Brian

Jesus Called Out Political Leaders of His Day, Be Like Jesus!

 

Psalm 82

A Psalm of Asaph.

82 God has taken his place in the divine council;

    in the midst of the gods he holds judgment:

2 “How long will you judge unjustly

    and show partiality to the wicked? Selah

3 Give justice to the weak and the fatherless;

    maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute.

4 Rescue the weak and the needy;

    deliver them from the hand of the wicked.”

5 They have neither knowledge nor understanding,

    they walk about in darkness;

    all the foundations of the earth are shaken.

6 I said, “You are gods,

    sons of the Most High, all of you;

7 nevertheless, like men you shall die,

    and fall like any prince.”

8 Arise, O God, judge the earth;

    for you shall inherit all the nations!

Dear Folks,

We live in a world and a society often consumed by the clamor of political discourse, a world where opinions clash, and divisions seem to deepen with each passing day. As followers of Jesus Christ, we are called to be salt and light in this world, but how are we to navigate the often-turbulent waters of politics? How do we engage in discussions that can be so fraught with tension and disagreement? To find our way, we must look to the life and teachings of our Lord, for his journey unfolded within a political landscape as complex and challenging as our own.

The Gospels paint a vivid picture of first-century Judea, not merely as a backdrop for spiritual pronouncements, but as a land firmly under the thumb of the Roman Empire. This was a world of occupation, where resentment simmered beneath the surface, and power struggles were rife. To truly grasp the impact of Jesus’ message, we must understand this deeply political context. Rome’s presence was not just about foreign soldiers; it permeated the very structure of governance, often through local rulers like Herod, who were seen by many as collaborators with the imperial power. Judea itself eventually came under direct Roman administration, ruled by prefects like Pontius Pilate. This constant presence of foreign power fostered a longing for liberation and a deep-seated tension within the Jewish populace.

Within this framework of Roman dominance, the Jewish religious authorities also wielded significant, though limited, political influence. The High Priest in Jerusalem acted as a crucial intermediary between the Roman prefect and the Jewish community. The Temple, the center of Jewish religious life, also held significant economic and political sway. Moreover, Jewish society was internally divided, with various sects holding differing political and theological viewpoints, adding to the overall instability. Against this backdrop of occupation and division, the hope for the Messiah burned brightly, a hope that carried strong political overtones, with many anticipating a deliverer who would restore Jewish sovereignty. Even the ministry of John the Baptist, who prepared the way for Jesus, was not immune to political realities, ultimately leading to his arrest by Herod Antipas.

Jesus’ own ministry emerged within this politically charged environment. His interactions with Roman authorities, particularly his trial before Pontius Pilate, reveal the inherent political dimensions of his life. The charges leveled against him were not solely religious; they were framed in political terms – perverting the nation, forbidding the payment of taxes to Caesar, and claiming to be Christ, a king. When Pilate asked, "Are you the king of the Jews?" Jesus’ response, "My kingdom is not of this world," offers a profound insight into how we, as Christians, should understand the relationship between earthly and heavenly authority. While acknowledging the reality of earthly power, Jesus points to a different, transcendent realm of authority. His teaching on paying taxes – "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's" – provides a crucial framework. It acknowledges the legitimacy of secular authority in its own sphere while firmly asserting the ultimate authority of God. This delicate balance calls us to be responsible citizens while never forgetting our primary allegiance lies with the Kingdom of God.

Jesus’ interactions with the Jewish authorities also held significant political undertones. The Sanhedrin, the supreme Jewish council, possessed both religious and political authority under Roman oversight. Jesus’ frequent clashes with the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Herodians often revolved around interpretations of the law that had direct implications for social order and political power. His criticisms of their hypocrisy and self-righteousness challenged their authority and influence among the people. Even his deliberate association with marginalized groups, tax collectors and those considered "sinners," was a politically subversive act, challenging the established social hierarchies and the authority of those who benefited from them.

The concept of the "Kingdom of God," central to Jesus’ message, carried profound political implications. In a world where "kingdom" referred to earthly rule, Jesus’ use of this term to describe God’s reign was inherently political. For his Jewish audience, living under Roman rule, the "Kingdom of God" evoked hopes for liberation and justice. Jesus’ vision of this Kingdom served as a direct challenge to the "domination system" of the Roman Empire, offering an alternative sovereign authority in God. His teachings, such as "Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven," express a desire for God's justice and peace to permeate all aspects of life, including the political sphere. Yet, Jesus made it clear that this Kingdom was not to be established through earthly power or violence, but through love, sacrifice, and the transformation of hearts.

Jesus’ actions, like the cleansing of the Temple, were not merely religious acts but also direct challenges to the economic and political status quo. His disruption of the money changers and sellers exposed the corruption and self-interest that had infiltrated the heart of religious life, activities deeply intertwined with the political power structures of Judean society. This bold act enraged the religious leaders, contributing to their desire to see him silenced.

So, how does all of this inform our engagement with politics today? We learn from Jesus that our faith cannot be divorced from the realities of the world around us, including the political sphere. We are called to be aware of the systems of power and to engage with them thoughtfully and critically. We are to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, fulfilling our civic duties, participating in our communities, and upholding just laws. However, our ultimate allegiance remains to God and his Kingdom. This means we must evaluate all earthly powers and political ideologies through the lens of the Gospel.

Jesus’ example calls us to engage with politics not with the aim of earthly domination or the pursuit of self-interest, but with the values of the Kingdom of God: love, justice, mercy, humility, and service. We are called to advocate for the marginalized, to speak truth to power, and to challenge unjust structures. Our political engagement should be marked by respect for those with whom we disagree, a commitment to truth and integrity, and a willingness to listen and understand different perspectives. Just as Jesus challenged the norms of his time, we too may find ourselves challenging the prevailing political and social norms when they contradict the values of God’s Kingdom.

To remain silent or indifferent to the political realities that shape our communities and world can be a profound disservice to the teachings of Christ. To claim ignorance of the impact of political decisions on the vulnerable, the oppressed, and the very fabric of society can be a form of willful blindness, neglecting the call to love our neighbors as ourselves. To shrink back from engaging in the public square with the convictions of our faith, perhaps out of fear of controversy or a desire for worldly approval, can be a form of spiritual cowardice, failing to be the salt and light Jesus called us to be. Indeed, when we consciously choose to absent ourselves from the pursuit of justice and the establishment of righteous governance, we risk aligning ourselves with the forces that perpetuate injustice, a stance that stands in stark contrast to the very essence of Christ's mission to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, and freedom to the oppressed. Our faith is not a private matter confined to the walls of our churches; it is a transformative power meant to shape every aspect of our lives, including our engagement with the earthly kingdom in anticipation of the heavenly one.

Folks, let us engage in political discussions with humility and grace, remembering that we are first and foremost citizens of God’s Kingdom. Let our words and actions reflect the love of Christ, seeking not to win arguments but to build bridges, to heal divisions, and to work towards a more just and peaceful world, a world where God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

Love,

+Br'er Abbot

More Equal than Others

"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others."

- George Orwell, Animal Farm

A friend of mine recently made a post on Facebook that referenced a quote from George Orwell's satirical novel Animal Farm. (Thanks Kate!)  It was a picture from an ATM she visited of a note posted on the machine itself:  

"The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which."

Honestly, I had all but forgotten about that book and its relevance today.  Another quote surfaced in my mind as I began to remember:

"All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others."

This seemingly contradictory statement serves as a powerful critique of totalitarianism and the abuse of power. It highlights the dangers of hierarchical societies where certain individuals or groups are granted privileges and advantages over others, despite the rhetoric of equality.

Orwell's quote remains eerily relevant in today's world, where we see similar power dynamics playing out in various social and political contexts. The gap between the rich and the poor continues to widen, with the top 1% of the population accumulating a disproportionate share of wealth and resources. This economic inequality translates into political influence, as the wealthy elite often have greater access to lawmakers and can shape policies in their favor.

Furthermore, the quote can be applied to the concept of systemic racism and discrimination. While laws may guarantee equal rights for all citizens, the reality is that certain groups, such as racial or ethnic minorities, often face systemic barriers that limit their opportunities and perpetuate inequality.

Orwell's quote serves as a stark reminder of the dangers of unchecked power and the importance of vigilance against any form of inequality. In a society that truly values equality, all individuals should have equal opportunities and access to resources, regardless of their background or social status, politics or religion.

I invite you to reread the book and think about it. We're all on the farm.

Finding Abundance in Less through Christian Minimalism: A Personal Story

 Finding Abundance in Less through Christian Minimalism: A Personal Story

In a world saturated with material possessions and relentless consumerism, the concept of minimalism has gained significant traction. But for Christians, the pursuit of a simpler life isn't a trendy lifestyle choice; it's a reflection of ancient wisdom and a core tenet of faith. Examining minimalism through the lens of Scripture and the teachings of the Church Fathers reveals a profound connection between simplicity and spiritual abundance.   

The Bible consistently warns against the dangers of materialism. Jesus himself cautioned, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Matthew 6:19-21).   

This passage isn't a condemnation of all material possessions, but a call to prioritize eternal values over fleeting earthly ones. It highlights the ephemeral nature of material wealth and the potential for it to distract us from our true purpose: a relationship with God.   

Moreover, the story of the rich young ruler (Matthew 19:16-22) vividly illustrates the challenge of letting go of material attachments. Jesus' instruction to "sell your possessions and give to the poor" wasn't a universal mandate, but a specific prescription for a man whose wealth had become an obstacle to following Christ. It underscores the idea that true freedom lies in detachment from material things, allowing us to serve God wholeheartedly.

The Church Fathers, early Christian theologians and leaders, echoed the biblical emphasis on simplicity and detachment. They understood that material possessions could hinder spiritual growth and distract from a life devoted to God.

St. Basil the Great: Emphasized the importance of moderation and using material goods for their intended purpose, rather than indulging in excess. He advocated for a life of charity and generosity, sharing resources with those in need.

St. John Chrysostom: Spoke powerfully against greed and the pursuit of wealth, highlighting the dangers of allowing material possessions to control our lives. He encouraged Christians to live simply and focus on spiritual riches.

St. Francis of Assisi: While not a Church Father in the traditional sense, his life embodies the spirit of early Christian minimalism. He embraced poverty and simplicity, finding joy in serving God and others, rather than accumulating material possessions. His example serves as a potent reminder of the transformative power of a life unburdened by material desires.

The Desert Fathers: These early monks withdrew from society to live ascetic lives in the desert, focusing on prayer, contemplation, and simplicity. Their emphasis on detachment from material comforts and worldly distractions underscores the importance of creating space for spiritual growth.   

Applying these principles to contemporary life:

Intentional Consumption: Consciously choosing what we consume, prioritizing needs over wants, and avoiding impulsive purchases.

Decluttering and Simplification: Regularly evaluating our possessions and letting go of items that no longer serve a purpose.

Generosity and Stewardship: Recognizing that all we have comes from God and using our resources to serve others.   

Focus on Spiritual Growth: Prioritizing prayer, Bible study, and fellowship with other believers over the pursuit of material wealth.

Finding contentment: Understanding that true joy and peace come from a relationship with God, not from material possessions.   

This has been a personal discovery for me.  My own journey to minimalism began with a profound shift in perspective brought about by my growing monastic faith through the simple Common Rule I have followed for over two decades. 

The contemplative life, with its emphasis on simplicity and detachment, began to illuminate the heavy burden I carried in the form of accumulated possessions. Years of collecting and filling storage units with the detritus of a life lived in acquisition, had created a physical, mental, and spiritual clutter that stifled my growth. Confronted with the stark contrast between the monastic ideal I aspired to and my own reality, I embarked on a radical decluttering process. 

Over several years, I systematically emptied multiple large storage units, releasing countless items that held little true value. I gave much away and was forced to throwaway even more.  This purging wasn't merely a physical act; it was a spiritual cleansing, a shedding of the weight that had held me captive. As the physical space around me cleared, so did the mental, emotional, and spiritual space within me. The shift was transformative, creating room for deeper prayer, greater focus, and a newfound sense of peace. 

My life, once defined by the accumulation of things, now centered on the pursuit of spiritual instead of material richness, a testament to the liberating power of a minimalist approach rooted in my Christian faith.  I have not "arrived" yet by any stretch of the imagination. I am still a work in progress and I will most likely struggle with this until I shuffle off this mortal coil and meet my Maker.  Hopefully I will die empty handed with a full heart and be truly set free.

So you see, Christian minimalism isn't about deprivation or austerity; it's about freedom. It's about freeing ourselves from the burden of material possessions and creating space for deeper connection with God and others. It is about understanding that true abundance is found not in what we own, but in who we are in Christ. By embracing simplicity, we can live more intentionally, generously, and faithfully, reflecting the true treasures of our faith.

Love,

+Br'er Abbot

AnneLynn

Her self-described happiest moment. 

If you are triggered by sad stories or the topic of suicide, skip this  post.  This is just such a story about a friend, near and dear to my heart.

It was 36 years ago today on February 21, 1989 that my dearest friend in the whole wide world committed suicide.  Her name was AnneLynn. I remember her every year on this day and if truth be told sometimes every day. While I accept it, I have never gotten over her suicide.

The year was 1989.  I had last heard from her in a Christmas card where she said she needed some time and space away from people and cats. (She cared for three indoor Abyssinians and a whole tassel of outdoor strays.)  In her letter she quipped, "this season may kill me."  I took it as hyperbole but made a mental note to give her some space.  That was in December. She killed herself two months later.

I was so young, a sophomore in college and she was much older than I and yet my world revolved around our friendship.  She was the first person in my life who I felt saw me and with whom I connected on a deeply spiritual level.  I miss her every day but most of all, on this day. 

I watch a  popular movie staring Robin Williams every year on this day, "What Dreams May Come" and I think of her.

In the movie "What Dreams May Come," Chris Nielsen's wife, Annie, commits suicide after struggling with the loss of their children. Chris, who has already died and gone to heaven, learns that Annie is in hell, a realm created by her own pain and despair. Determined to rescue her, Chris embarks on a perilous journey to hell, guided by his friend Albert.   

Chris's descent into hell is a an emotionally harrowing experience. He navigates through a dark and twisted landscape, confronting the manifestations of Annie's anguish. He eventually finds her in a catatonic state, trapped in her self-created prison of sorrow.

Despite the warnings that no one can leave hell, Chris refuses to give up. He uses his love and memories of their life together to try and reach Annie, to break through the walls of her despair. In a climactic moment, Chris makes a profound choice: he decides to stay with Annie in hell, accepting her fate, rather than live without her in heaven. This act of selfless love ultimately breaks through Annie's despair, allowing her to recognize Chris and escape hell with him.

I don't believe that the loving God I have come to know sends people who suicide to hell but I do believe that people who suicide are sometimes living in a kind of a hell and can't find their way out of it.

If when I die I discover she is in hell.  Then I will go there myself to rescue her and if I can't rescue her, I will stay with her.  Until then I remember, I pray, and I lean on the compassion and love of my God.

Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On

I have wanted desperately to write something, anything but words fail me. I'm cycling through the stages of grief around and around again: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. It's tornado season again in the Ozarks, thanks to climate change, and I feel like I'm being buffeted and battered by an unrelenting funnel cloud of tumultuous feelings.

A song by Jimmy Buffett came to mind. It's about Katrina, a hurricane that shattered a community and shattered lives in New Orleans. We have just gone through just such a political hurricane and it too is shattering lives and shattering our country.

It speaks about what we do now. Breathe in, breathe out, move on.

Go easy on yourself for a few days. If you're like me, you're probably in shock. Feel your feelings. Scream, cry, get mad, whatever but most of all take care of yourself. Indulge in your favorite comfort food, hydrate, and rest. Stay out of of the news cycle and off of social media. Don't feed the emotional storm with hot air. There'll be plenty of time to catch up on that stuff later. Take care of you and those whom you love.

Breathe in, breathe out, move on...

Love,
+Brian

Br'er Abbot

A little bit about my nickname "Br'er Abbot"...

It was given to me years ago by Bishop Eugene Tyrsson SilverWolf Kyle a dear friend and brother of our religious order. It came about as a play on words from the old children stories of Br'er Rabbit (Brother Rabbit) and because I was the abbot of our order and he knew of my affinity for Saint Melangell, the patron saint of hares.

What he couldn't have known was my love of the Br'er Rabbit stories and the Disney movie the Song of the South. These stories were made popular in the United States by Joel Chandler Harris, though he wasn't the first to publish them.

They were based upon the continental African people's folktales and subsequently the derivative folktales of the enslaved Africans of the Americas. They were my first introduction to liberation theology, though I didn't know that at the time.

I grew up in a deeply racist family and these folksy tales helped me struggle against learned generational racism and to start to discover a different world around me and a different way of being at an early age. Those folktales and stories would inform and thus shape my world, political, spiritual, and emotional view for the rest of my life.

To this day I still treasure the memory of those books. For good or bad, right or wrong, they helped make me who I am today and I treasure my dear brother's nickname that he gave me all those years ago. I am humbled and grateful.

+Br'er Abbot