Here’s an old, old story. One day a poor peasant named Gordius arrived in an ox cart in the city of Phrygia. As legend has it, an oracle had predicted that their future king would come into town riding in a wagon, and upon seeing Gordius, the people made him their king. In gratitude to Zeus, Gordius dedicated his ox-cart to the Greek god and tied it up in the temple with a highly elaborate knot. Another oracle predicted that whoever could untie this “Gordian Knot” would rule over all of Asia. None mastered this feat until Alexander the Great visited Phrygia in 333 B.C., who, upon seeing the famed Gordian Knot, drew his sword and simply cut it in half. Was this cheating? Well, the ends of the rope had been spliced back together, so there was no way to untie the knot by manipulating the cord itself. Alexander’s solution was the best and most realistic one available at the time.

In today’s contentious society, it often appears that the pressing issues facing us are tied up in unsolvable Gordian knots. How do we untangle the concerns about adequate wages for all who work, appropriate welfare safeguards for the poor and elderly, and quality education opportunities that honors the needs of both students and teachers? Why have the verbal strands of every argument been distorted and knotted up so that suddenly adequate health care or reasonable support for those who are retired is characterized as an optional, privileged “entitlement”? Why must every moral issue become so politicized that no one can untangle the ropes binding up our governmental processes?

At some point, the church needs to reclaim its “Alexandrian” voice in these debates. We need to wield the sword of common sense and compassionate faith to cut through the Gordian knots plaguing our public discourse. The current debate over gun laws is a good case-in-point. We should speak out for the common sense requirement that any household where children are present that also possesses guns must have child-safety locks and/or locked cabinets for these weapons. We should insist that a person whose gun is lost or stolen report that fact to the police in an expeditious manner. Neither of these actions are infringements on Second Amendment rights, yet both would save lives lost now to accidental gunfire or acts of suicide. In the same way, the NRA has tried to deflect reasonable gun control measures by calling for extra resources for people struggling with mental illness. It is a common tactic to defeat one “good” (e.g., gun control) by pushing for another “good,” since no one can reasonably challenge the need for offering adequate support in confronting mental disease. But like re-weaving the ends of the Gordian knot, it is a disingenuous tactic designed to maintain the status quo and stop all “unraveling” around this issue.

The church’s social justice “sword” is honed on the words of Christ, who remind us that the needs of the poor, vulnerable, abused, marginalized, and hungry always take precedence over those who seek to safeguard their privilege with tightly-knotted ropes of injustice and power. The oracles of our faith have foretold that time when all God’s children shall be free. May we be bold in wielding the sword of Christ as witnesses today for this prophetic word of hope.

We have just celebrated the good news of Easter – how Jesus Christ is alive, through the miracle of resurrection and the wonder of heavenly grace and power. That news is overwhelming. Think about how the first witnesses to Jesus’ resurrection fled from the tomb, either shocked into silence (see Mark 16:8) or dismissed as people telling an “idle tale” (see Luke 24:11). Have we gotten any better over the centuries at sharing in words the miraculous, transformative power of Easter?

Perhaps one analogy can come to us from the world of computing. According to a book by George Dyson called Turing’s Cathedral, the modern digital age dawned around 1951 in Princeton, NJ. It was there that a special machine was built – the Mathematical and Numerical Integrator and Computer – affectionately known by its acronym “Maniac.” For the first time, numbers were no longer simple tallies used to count things. They could now be numbers or instructions; data was suddenly both a noun and a verb. The people who built “Maniac” knew that they were on the verge of an entirely new way of treating human knowledge. One engineer quoted in Dyson’s book says this: “A tidal wave of computational power was about to break and inundate everything in science and much elsewhere, and things would never be the same.”

The strength of this analogy is how it captures the sheer power and sweep of the Easter story. Like a tidal wave washing over the entire world, belief in the resurrection of Christ swept over Jerusalem, around the Mediterranean Sea, and throughout the nations of the world. Because of this news, things have never been the same. But there are two flaws with the computer analogy. First, the name is no good. Nothing about Christ’s resurrection power should be linked with the word “maniac.” Second, there is an aspect of chaotic, untamed force captured in the engineer’s description of computer power. But God’s plan is never chaotic – never untamed, wild or destructive. It is in every aspect quite intentional, focused, justice-oriented and loving. So a different analogy is needed.

Andrew Solomon, in his book Far From the Tree, commented on the miracle of child-birth with this clever reminder: “There is no such thing as reproduction, only acts of production.” Despite our tendency to describe giving birth as an act of reproduction (as if children were photocopies of one or both parents), children emerge by acts of fresh, unique “production.” We never quite know who or what they’ll be. Part of the joy of raising children is trying to trace the lineage of the different physical and emotional traits present in our sons and daughters. Parents daily recognize how their children are both related to them and yet so different from them.

Easter was ultimately an act of production, not reproduction. Jesus was not simply resuscitated. He was not brought back to life to reproduce patterns of life he’d fleshed out prior to his crucifixion. Easter was not an attempt to give the status quo a second chance to get things right. Easter was a new thing altogether – a promise of life beyond death, of healing and hope despite brokenness, and of love that is truly eternal. We glimpse aspects of our earthly life in the stories about Jesus’ resurrection appearances, and yet it is something different from daily life. Better than this life, yet offered to us in love. Maybe as we share this story in our day and age, we can capture a bit of that unique, fresh wonder of Easter and what our loving Lord has “produced” for us.

The topic of environmental stewardship is often neglected in the church. We are mindful of being called “caretakers” for God’s good earth, and yet, like Adam and Eve standing outside the Garden of Eden, we are filled with guilt by our broken relationship with much of creation around us. The season of Lent is a time to be honest about our shortcomings in our relationships with God, with one another, and with the world in which we live. Likewise, the season of Easter is a time to remember how God acts to make amends for our wrongs and to bring healing to all parts of life broken by sin, abuse, and apathy. My hope is that when we pray for the world, we move beyond human-centered perspectives and open our hearts and souls also to pray for the well-being and loving care of the air, soil, water and living creatures who are also part of God’s creative plan. What follows is a brief essay on this subject that I was asked to submit for a Lenten devotional for the group, Presbyterians for Earth Care.

The data about how human actions affect the world in which we live is overwhelmingly negative. Sadly we read regular reports about global climate change, soil erosion, water pollution, persistent national addictions to fossil fuels, damage done to the ozone layer, and much more. Film documentaries show us the depletion of the vital polar ice caps. Meteorological statistics weary us by noting how current weather patterns are the worst in recorded history. And our mailboxes overflow with donation requests from overworked conservancy and advocacy groups, desperately fighting for eco-justice.

But all this cannot be the final word we offer on this subject. To give up or accept a defeatist position runs counter to other scientific evidence as well as our Christian faith. Other data points to how the earth can heal many of its ecological wounds, once we stop the worst forms of damage and environmental abuse. Nature does adapt, re-group, and re-claim what we have wrongly usurped. Air, water, and soil can come back through rejuvenating wonders built into God’s essential design of this world.

To make this happen requires an “Easter perspective” on nature. In between the time on the cross and the sunrise on Easter morning, the earth waited. The followers of Jesus mourned and stopped what they had been doing. The violence of the cross was over for a spell. Then came the third day – a time of life reborn, of hope renewed, and of resurrection in every sense of the word. To step away from ecological violence means we have to be still, waiting and watching and praying and believing. For to our longing eyes, a miracle is anxious to unfold.

Resurrection is not just a one-time event. It is a way of life – real life – and a walk of faith – this day and for all time. For that good news, let us say: Thanks be to God!

We live in an “information age.” If you have cable television, you can view a wide range of news, sports and entertainment programs from around the world. If you have access to a computer, you can type in any question that pops into your head and use the Internet to find an answer. And if you have a SmartPhone, iPad or Wi-Fi tablet, you can get maps or movie reviews or just about anything imaginable from wherever you happen to be. The past 25 years have seen a tremendous explosion in the range and depth of information now accessible from our home computers and “smart” devices.

More recently, questions have begun to be raised about who might be tracking the questions we ask and the Internet searches we type. Is it an issue of concern when the same GPS device that helps us get directions from the North Hills to the Liberty Tunnel also tracks everywhere we travel the rest of the day? Is it something to worry about when the questions we ask our computer are collated in such a way as to create an online database about who we are, where we live, our age, income and shopping habits? The most common result from this collected personal data is seen when your “shopper’s card” pumps out a personalized coupon at the grocery store for an item you would likely be interested in, or when the sidebar advertisements appearing on the screen, when you do a Google search, reflect causes or organizations you support. None of this may be bad, but it does raise some theological questions.

The theme for this month’s newsletter is “Just Love,” a combination of the Christian virtues of justice and love. Love is not simply an emotional act or a quality of compassion; its larger goal is to bless the receiver while also serving the common good. To paraphrase the end of the pledge of allegiance, love works for the justice of all. The international growth in the computing world raises two questions about love that is truly just. First, having access to information is becoming synonymous with having access to power and opportunities. Jobs are advertised online; communication occurs electronically; resources are only available to people with computers. A “just love” will work to ensure that no one is pushed to the margins because they lack access to the tools of today’s information age. Second, it is possible that the electronic choices we might today (the things we search for, the ads or videos we view) subtly shape the electronic choices presented to us tomorrow (the ads we see, the rankings in Google searches). In trying to present us with personally relevant information, our cyber-profile runs the risk of narrowing defining us by our zip code, income bracket, race, gender and age.

Both of these trends run counter to the larger message of the gospel, in which extra effort should always be exerted to ensure no one is left on the margins or barred from access to life-enhancing resources. Remember how Jesus stopped the parade around him to welcome over the blind men or to offer healing words of comfort to the woman with the flow of blood. Also, no one should ever stereotype us as people permanently locked into one category of life, falsely determined by our age, race, gender, sexual orientation or wealth. For as Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 5: “From now on, we regard no one from a human point of view…Anyone who is in Christ is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see everything has become new!” The blessing of Christian faith is that is presents us with a new vision of life that transforms the way we live now while joyfully providing promises of future peace and eternal life. At the heart of this vision is “just love”; remember that we are called to be its disciples in our personal, spiritual and technological lives.

I’m notorious for tearing out pages from magazines or circling paragraphs in newspaper articles when they contain quotes I find thought-provoking. Something in print can trigger a reaction in me that makes me pause, put down the paper for a moment, and reflect on what I’ve read. I may agree and want to shout, “Amen, sister!” I may disagree and want to say, “Now hold on there…”

T.C. Boyle is a popular fiction writer, who has published over twenty, fairly unconventional books. In a recent interview, he happened to be asked about life and death and offered this grim assessment: “In previous generations, there was purpose [to life]: you had to die, but there was God, and literature and culture would go on. Now, of course, there is no God, and our species is imminently doomed, so there is no purpose. We get up, raise families, have bank accounts, fix our teeth and everything else. But really, there is utterly no purpose except to be alive.” As you can imagine, my reaction was, “Now hold on there!”

Mr. Boyle has made a living out of being provocative, so his words have to be seen in light of his own goals of self-marketing. Clearly he and I disagree on the question of “God vs. no God.” But what struck me most was his suggestion that life has no ultimate purpose. I felt sad when he suggested that life involves waking up, balancing our checkbooks, brushing our teeth, and simply staying alive. What a narrow, depressing view! I thought of so many other things that I would add to the list of “why I wake up in the morning”, including (but not limited to) my wife and family, communion services at ELPC, Bach and Chopin music on the piano, snow-capped mountains seen from a distance, ocean beaches felt by bare feet, children, pets, chocolate, crossword puzzles, and ice cream “blend ins.” You would likely have your own list of what brings you joy each day and adds meaning to your life.

Having said that, I know that for all of us some days (and weeks) are harder than others. There are stages in life when it takes all our effort to get up, get to work, pay our bills, and navigate the hours until we can lie down in bed again. There are times when we cannot see distant mountains or remember what summer’s warmth feels like, and we find ourselves just “staying alive.” The difference is that Mr. Boyle cynically suggests that there is no other option; no “Plan B” to turn to when things are hard. I would argue that a “horizon is nothing except the limit of our sight” (to borrow words from our state’s founder William Penn), and as God’s children, we always have another higher, spiritual horizon ever before us. Christ has promised to be with us, “even to the end of the age.” The Spirit intercedes for us “with sighs too deep for words” in our moments of need. Remembering those basic truths of faith lifts our eyes unto the hills, allowing us to affirm: “From whence does our help come? It comes from the Lord.”

A new year is upon us. By definition, it is a new horizon of life for each of us: twelve months waiting expectantly to be explored by us. Yes, we’ll need to work, brush our teeth and check our bank accounts. But we can be and do so much more than that, and such is God’s desire for each of us. Spend 2013 proving T.C. Boyle wrong. I’m sure he can handle a friendly disagreement about this, and besides, it will make a great conversation to share with faith friends now and the heavenly host in the future!