Fourth Sunday of Lent (Year C) , March 27, 2022 (today’s lectionary)
War and rumors of war
Long day today, on the next to last day of my trip, 502 miles through Los Alamos, Roswell, across the border to Texas and into Midland for the night. Sleep, sleep, sleep.
On the day after Passover, on which they ate of the produce of the land, the manna ceased. That year the Israelites ate of the yield of the land of Canaan.
There are no restaurants nearby, but I can make a salami and cheese sandwich to fall asleep with while Duke wins their game against Arkansas. Good enough for me. Very grateful for that sandwich actually, here in the oil fields of Texas.
O taste and see the goodness of the Lord.
In Los Alamos, where our Urbana friend Marji grew up with her scientist father, a statue of Robert Oppenheimer and General Leslie Groves marks the uneasy alliance of military and science that resulted in the atomic bomb. Oppenheimer holds his pipe and smiles gently under his wide brimmed hat. Less gently, General Groves smiles too.
Famous scientists from around the world congregated in this New Mexico mountain town to build the most destructive weapon ever in all the history of the world. As Oppenheimer watched the first atomic test, he recalled a piece of Hindu scripture: “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
The scientists and military men had their parties together at night, but at some point the military boys took over and the scientists shuffled away. Years earlier Einstein did what he could to persuade President Roosevelt not to open the atomic Pandora’s Box. But Einstein failed. Now Roosevelt was dead and new President Truman, who as Vice President had known nothing about the Manhattan Project, made the decision to go ahead and use the bomb in Japan. After five years of world war, perhaps he felt he had no choice.
The old things have passed away; behold, new things have come. And all this is from God, who has reconciled us to himself through Christ and given us the ministry of reconciliation. So we are ambassadors for Christ, as if God were appealing through us.
But no. In the endless paradox of war, our heroes killed the other side’s heroes, and we all sang songs of victory. Well, not all. “Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.”
I will get up and go to my Father and I shall say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and sinned against you.
Not far across the Texas border I saw a giant Lone Star flag at half mast. I wondered why. For the Ukrainians perhaps?
“Governor Greg Abbott today ordered Texas flags across the state to be lowered to half-staff to honor the US service members who lost their lives during at the airport yesterday in Kabul, Afghanistan.”
On this fourth Sunday of Lent we celebrate food and feasting, and we commit once again to the ministry of reconciliation, within ourselves and within our communities – global and local both.
Let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost and now he has been found.
Jesus tells one of his best stories, of the rebellious son being feted by his prodigal father. As the world watches (in the form of the elder son), God loves all of us up one side and down the other. He raises all our flags, high up into the sky.
(1 Samuel 16, Psalm 23, Ephesian 5, John 8, 9)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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