They Also Serve....

Yesterday, June 20th, was the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. Neil Armstrong, a native of Wapakoneta, Ohio, became the first man to walk on the moon. What once had seemed unreachable for mankind - outer space, the moon, the stars - became attainable. What was once an object of worship became a new frontier for exploration.

But that conquest came at a heavy price. On January 27, 1967, three American astronauts - Gus Grissom, Ed White II and Roger Chaffee were killed by a fire that ignited in the module during a test. The fire was a horrific disaster that nonetheless served to help designers reconfigure the Apollo lunar capsule to increase safety and reliability of key functions. Because of the sacrifice of those three astronauts, Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin were able to successfully make it to the moon and back, fulfilling President Kennedy's challenge to our country. After Apollo 11, NASA did not suffer the loss of a single Apollo astronaut, even when Apollo 13 nearly met with disaster.

As you enjoy commemorations of the Apollo 11 landing, and thrill to the replays of the original television and radio broadcasts, take a moment to remember the crew of Apollo 1. They served, too.

A Tough Row to Hoe

I share a cubicle with a woman here at work - we shall call her Lily. Lily has a lot on her plate, both personally and in the office. She's married to an alcoholic, and while they share a home, they don't have any kind of marital relationship. She has a ne'er-do-well son, and is raising one of her grandchildren. Layoffs are coming, and she's sure her position is threatened. (And it is: over the last six months or so, she's had more and more of her responsibilities taken away and given to others.) She's a little advanced in years, is not financially able to retire, and is scared.

I have befriended her. I look after her - she doesn't do stairs well, so I run her paperwork around for her. I surprise her with frosties from Wendy's. I've listened to her problems, and I pray for her every day at lunch. I'm kind to her.

Today, she stabbed me in the back. Suffice to say that Lily went straight to my supervisor with errant information about a conversation I'd had. She neither heard the conversation, nor took the time to listen to my side of it. She went straight over my head, and had to climb the stairs to do so, so God knows it took determination and effort. My supervisor talked to me, believes me, asked me not to confront Lily about it, etc.

Here's the funny part: As I was driving to work this morning, I heard Chuck Swindoll tell a story my wife used in a sermon illustration this week. A missionary was preaching a sermon, and after the service, she was surprised to see a German SS guard who had tormented her and her sister years before, in a concentration camp during World War II. It took everything she had - specifically, several quiet prayers to God - to extend her hand in friendship. But she did it, hard as it was.

As I came downstairs from my supervisor's office, I was steaming. I wanted so badly to talk to Lily directly, tell her off, and sulk. But I'm required to forgive. Worse, I'm required to pray for her:

"But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you...." (Matt. 5:44, NIV)

Now, I'm not being persecuted, but I am confronted with the spirit of the verse, and that spirit requires me to treat Lily no differently than I did before. In fact, I have to treat her better. Today, I'm going to pray for her during my lunchtime devotions, just as I always do. And I'll probably pick her up a frostie from Wendy's.

I will say one thing: six months ago, I'd have let Lily have it. God has been working on me - hard - and I can notice differences in the way I used to act, and the way I act now. All too often, I fail, but I do see growth. I see a difference.

This Christian thing is tough, though. It's a tough row to hoe.

HBO's Rome

My wife and I have been trekking through HBO's Rome miniseries. Though we're only two-thirds through the first season, and have a whole second season to enjoy, I thought I'd offer up a few thoughts about what I've seen so far.

First, as an amateur historian (I'm not sure majoring in history in college qualifies you as an "historian," per se), I'm reasonably happy with the basic historical accuracy of the settings, clothing and manners. I can't understand why producers can't accurately portray Roman military shields or Ptolemaic military equipment, but that's a minor quibble. The characters are well-drawn, the acting solid and the writing usually lively. The show is pretty raunchy, with lots of off-color language, but - it's HBO, so you know what to expect going in.

Rome, Season One follows the adventures of Lucius Vorenus, a centurion, and Titus Pullo, a common legionarius, both of whom belong to Julius Caesar's XIII Legion. I won't try to retrace the plot, but these two get into various mishaps against the backdrop of Caesar's impending clash with Pompey Magnus - Pompey the Great. Caesar and Pompey (along with Marcus Crassus, who is regrettably missing from the show) are locked in a battle for supremacy in the Roman Republic. Pompey is the champion (and, I would argue, lap dog) of the Senate and Optimates party, while Caesar is the champion (cynically so, one might say) of the Populares, or commoners.

We just finished episode 9 - "Caesarion." Caesar has defeated Pompey at the Battle of Pharsalus. The Senate (Cato and Scipio, specifically) have abandoned Pompey, and fled to Africa to raise fresh armies to oppose Caesar. Pompey flees to Egypt, mistakenly believing the boy King Ptolemy XIII will help him, and is assassinated on the beach. Caesar lands in Egypt in pursuit of Pompey, only to be presented with the head of his rival. Incensed, Caesar holds a funeral for Pompey, rescues Cleopatra from the clutches of Ptomely XIII and his minders, and has a dalliance with the Egyptian queen. A child is born, who Caesar claims as his own. A few observations:

1. If we think modern culture is sex-obsessed and decadent, we should take a look backward. The miniseries fairly accurately shows sex to be a common part of Hellenized Roman life. It's everywhere - at home, in the streets, in the byways, in religion, scratched on the walls - everywhere. Our modern American culture, even with its easy access to online porn, DVDs, books, magazines, prostitutes, casual affairs and "hook-ups" - all with a compliant or (I would suggest) cheerleading mass media behind it - has nothing to compare. Those of us worried about the laissez-faire attitude of modern Americans to sexual purity and convention can thank God we aren't laboring in that society. It's bad today, but it could be worse - a lot worse.

2. If we think modern America's slow, mindless descent into pluralism and syncretism is grating, we should take a look at the way HBO chose to portray Roman culture. There isn't a god these people won't worship. One sees exactly why a building like the Pantheon (though constructed centuries after the events portrayed in the miniseries) was built. Your god is valid, my god is valid, his god is valid, etc., so - let's worship them all! There's a maddening variety and number of gods to please - Triton for sea travel, Mars for war, Jupiter for glory, household gods, fertility gods, agrarian gods - you name it. Amazing stuff.

What a shock Christianity must have been to the early converts. The early Christians had to make a major leap to narrow their allegiance and fidelity to the one true God. Far from sharing Paul's exasperation with the Corinthians, I now find it astonishing that the Gentile churches were as faithful as they were! And I now understand far better what Paul was facing when he spoke in Athens. What a culture! I've read about it for years, but to see it on the screen, over the course of several hours, has been really eye-opening for me.

Another word about the way religion is portrayed: These pagans aren't worshiping gods who love them. They worship out of fear. Vorenus tells Pullo that they'll be safe on board their ship - despite a horrendous storm at sea - because "good sacrifices" were made to Triton. These aren't gods who sacrifice for their creation - the creation sacrifices to them. It's a quid pro quo arrangement: mortals sacrifice to the gods, the gods forbear the mortals. The portrayal of religion in Rome has really caused me to reflect on my faith in Christ. God loves me. God sent His Son to die for me. I didn't sacrifice to Him - He sacrificed Himself for me. The gods in Rome are contractual gods - I serve a covenanting God. Amazing grace, indeed!

3. Poor Pompey Magnus. I've always been a great admirer of Caesar - he was a boyhood hero to me (we'll reflect on what that says about me and my upbringing later). Nonetheless, Pompey, for all his arrogance and desperation to please the Patrician circles, moves the viewer to pity when we see him disintegrate in the days following Pharsalus. What used to be the second-richest man in the Senate - a man who had conquered hundreds of nations, brought Mithridates and the Mediterranean pirates to heel and celebrated three triumphs through the streets of Rome - simply disintegrates after his loss to Caesar, the abandonment of Cato and Scipio, etc. He has nothing. Under the glittering armor, riches and great glory he had amassed, Pompey is revealed to be an empty suit. He dies a broken, defeated man, muttering to himself about past glories, bereft of friends and faith. I feel for him.

Many a time in my spiritual life, I've been a Pompey. I'm fine and dandy when things are going well, but as soon as I've hit a bump, I've fallen off the wagon. I've been unfaithful to God, unwilling to struggle and fight, unable to accept a setback or defeat. I haven't been willing to press on to the next battle. I've been a Pompey.

I'm facing my own Pharsalus in my life. I'm threatened with a layoff from my job, I haven't had much luck searching for another job, all this waiting on the local pastor process to begin is depressing me, etc. I really feel like I'm about to wage a Pharsalus of my own. If I win this, I'll glory like Caesar, and move on to greater things. But what if I lose?

What if things don't work out like I hope, or want? Will I resort to brokenness and despair, like Pompey? Will I accept negative events, and still believe that God loves me, and will provide for me? Will He find me faithful, even in the storm? I pray so.

More observations from the show will follow, but I thought I'd share a few things that came to mind as I watched the series. Enjoy church this weekend!