Probably I should talk to a spiritual director about this, or maybe even a therapist. But for now, I’d like to talk to you. The biblical theme of whipping is before me virtually every day. I have two framed postcard prints standing next to each other on my desk. Both of them are from the Frick Collection in New York City; I’ve contemplated them face to face a number of times.
The one is the Flagellation of Christ, an oil painting by Cimabue (c. 1240-1302). The other is the Purification of the Temple by El Greco (c. 1541-1614). In the first, we see Jesus, tied to the tree that is his cross, being whipped. In the second, we see Jesus violently driving the money changers out of the Temple with a whip (!), an image from the Gospel of John (John 2:13-17).
Dare I maintain that all who take biblical faith seriously will be claimed both by suffering love and by righteous indignation? Even more: that you can’t have the one without the other? My own spiritual upbringing was one-sided in this respect.
As a well-catechized card-carrying Lutheran boy, the faith I was taught was rich with narratives of suffering love, of course. But I can’t remember ever being taught anything about righteous indignation. Even that great hero of the faith, Martin Luther, was presented to us confirmands as one who championed the Gospel of free Grace, never, as far as I can recall, as a faith-leader who could be mad as hell, sometimes, I now believe, righteously.
A dear friend of mine is a gentle man. David Gagne happens to live in the Twin Cities (Minneapolis/St. Paul). This is a scene he narrates (quoted with his permission) from a recent, ordinary day:
On my way to the Y to work out this morning two ICE vehicles stopped in front of me blocking the street. Six brown shirt uniformed ICE thugs piled out wearing their face masks and ran towards a nearby apartment building. I have to admit I felt afraid but I jumped out and began filming with my phone, while blowing on my whistle. Soon 25 or 30 people joined me (I felt my fear lessen when others were filming also!). The ICE thugs had their pistols out, but not their assault weapons.
They formed a perimeter in front of an apartment building, hammered on the door, ordered people out with their shouted voices – then realized they were at the wrong address and moved two buildings down to repeat the whole thing. They were filming us also, while we were filming them. They told us that it was for the domestic terrorist watch list. I took off my stocking cap and sun glasses to be sure they got a good photo. When I told the ICE ag
ent what I was doing, he just unleashed some very creative swearing and asked me to do things with my body that I don’t think I could do. Eventually they piled into their vehicles and drove away, followed by cars from the emergency response network that someone had notified. I won’t call this a normal morning – but it happens often enough that I always carry my whistle on a lanyard around my neck (with a tricky slip knot in case an ICE agent grabs it and tries to pull me down with it in his hand). Yes, I am too old for this stuff! But it’s a good heart-strength test as my heartbeat races.
Were Dave to ask me, I’d tell him flat out: remember that great profootball player, Rosey Greer? Remember how he sang on Sesame Street: “It’s okay to cry, crying gets the sad out of you?” In case you’ve ever wondered: it’s also okay to yell – or to blow your whistle! – because yelling gets the righteous indignation out of you. Or it can. Let your whistle be your whip!
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