Covid-19 File - Sermon on the Mount, servant leadership.

History has taught me a good lesson. The parallel between Tiananmen thirty-one years ago (4 June 89) and the American protests today shows me that every epoch of history starts and ends not when leaders hide behind an ideology, inspired by some dead political philosopher more than hundred years ago. It however starts and ends with leaders taking responsibility. Full stop. 

Alas, the Sermon on the Mount has been right all along about servant leadership. Being the salt and light, a city on the hill, poor in spirit, meek, merciful, peacemakers, one who hungers for righteousness and rejoices in persecution, that’s what it is all about at the end of the day. And you see all of that demonstrated when police officers across the country kneeling on concrete floor, stairways, pavements and roadsides, with heads bowed, in solidarity with protesters. 

When you take a knee and bow your head in meekness, you are doing more than just holding up the Bible besides a church. You are telling the people clamoring for justice that we, the people of the badge, are vulnerable, open and defenseless before you. You are telling the people that love, not hate, dominates our hearts. You are also telling them that we are putting humility above authority, healing above power, and justice above prejudice and revenge. 

This is a sharp contrast with the POTUS who had to bulldoze his way with tear-gas and pellet shots just to get a glossy photo-op with a sacred text (held upside down) behind an ancient religious building. 

When Trump was asked yesterday about routing peaceful protesters away for that church compound for a photo-opportunity, he said he did not ask for protesters to be moved out before he walked over to the historic church. Not just that. Trump said: “They didn’t use tear gas.” 

But this directly contradicted what was shown on tv, where tear gas was in fact used. Then, he added: “Now, when I went, I didn’t say, “Oh, move them out.” I don’t know who was there.”” (Gobsmacked). 

You can bet your bottom dollar that Trump is a leader who will not take responsibility for what he has done. Nothing is his fault. He knows nothing too. He is innocent of what his subordinates has done for him. He will fire anyone who is not loyal. And he is someone who feels that there no need to ask for forgiveness. 

Humility and taking a knee are beyond a man like him. He calls the area where protesters clamor for justice a battle space. And he also calls for governors and mayors to dominate them with coercion if necessary. 

One writer opines: “So many things make America combustible right now: mass unemployment, a pandemic that’s laid bare murderous health and economic inequalities, teenagers with little to do, police violence, right-wingers itching for a second civil war and a President eager to pour petrol on every fire.” (Michelle Goldberg, “America is a tinderbox”). 

Ironically, you will readily find Trump holding a Bible, worshipping in a church, and being prayed for by white evangelical pastors; all performed in real time in the public square, and this scene reminded me of what the Pharisee did when he stood by himself and prayed: “God, I thank you that I am not like other people - robbers, evildoers, adulterers (maybe this is “NA”) - or even like this tax collector.” 

And we all know what the tax collector did. He stood at a distance, away from the public attention, beat his breast and cried out, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Sadly, you will not see Trump applying the simple principles of the Sermon on the Mount to show meekness, to be a peacemaker, and to mourn with a contrite heart for others. That is why the words of Jesus is so apt here: “I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

Let me end with what Trump has to say about those who knelt. He retweeted on Wednesday morning attacking New York City police for being “tasked to bully Orthodox Jews and bend a knee to terrorists.” 

Although he was not too specific in his view about the act of kneeling, you can tell from the way he conducted himself that kneeling is a sign of weakness for him. His battle cry for domination and the deployment of active-duty troops demonstrated anything but a heart contrite, a soul looking inward at such time, and a spirit that would take up the towel and basin ministry to serve. 

Truly, as Trump is dividing the country, stroking the flame of a cultural war, leaders of the common space are coming forward to take charge. 

Thomas L. Friedman wrote: “Help is not on the way from this White House or this GOP, but the country is full of problem-solvers.”

“We need to ignore Mr Trump as much as possible; he’s made himself part of the problem. But we can connect, elevate, amplify and empower the business leaders, social entrepreneurs and local leaders who are rising and ready to be the solution.” Amen.

The Last Supper: A loaded meal.

"When Jesus himself wanted to explain to his disciples what his forthcoming death was all about, he didn’t give them a theory, he invited them to a meal." (N.T. Wright).

Indeed, nothing fills the soul more than a good meal. It is said that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach and Jesus got that spot on. The last supper was about relationship, remembrance and servanthood.  It was about the joy of contemplation of the meaning and beauty of Jesus’ final acts and hours on earth.

While dinner in Latin means "to break one's fast", supper in French means an "evening meal". It was meant to be light, informal and relaxing. In modern lingo, it had that chill-pill effect of cool, ambient and personal touch.

I can therefore expect a modest buffet spread of barley, wheat, figs and olive oil on the table. Nothing heavy like lamb or fish. And nothing fancy like sporting a Michelin-star chef waiting by the side cooking up a storm. Maybe just some pomegranates, honey and apricot to spice up the evening as Jesus spends his last night with his loved ones on earth.

In the last supper, Jesus turned the casual occasion into a simple ritual of remembrance. He led the evening with the unleavened bread and wine. He broke the bread and shared it with his disciples. He then invited them to a drink of grape divine and told them to mark the day, to remember him, that is, what he had taught them, and what lies ahead (including a veiled betrayal and denial). It was the beginning of a sacred commemoration, a bond of renewed community and hope.

The last supper took placed on a Thursday. Maundy Thursday. It was the day before Jesus was to be arrested. It was the eve of his final reckoning on our behalf. Jesus knew the cost, the cross and Calvary. He was born into it. His 33 years on earth culminated to those last few days. His accusers had already carved his name onto the Calvary’s head post. His fate was sealed. His full plan was soon to be revealed.

It was therefore both an ominous and portentous day, that is, a celebration of grief and relief, sorrow and joy, death and life. It was no doubt a night of raw nerves and expected jitters for what awaited Jesus, but nothing was going to stop him from having a light meal with those he loved. The anxiety, the feeling of abandonment, the pain, the uncertainty, the cold sweat and travailing tears, they can all wait till their time comes. 

It is in fact encouraging to know that scriptures described it as the last supper, and not the last debate or the last dispute or the last conference. Like N.T. Wright said, Jesus did not spend his last days expounding or dissecting his teachings. He did not form a study group or a research team to explain the complex theories of his pending death and resurrection. In other words, they did not gather to brainstorm, but to warm hearts.

For Jesus, it was a time of relationship – intimate bonding. For him, it was a time beyond theology. For him, all classroom teachings ended that evening to usher in the next phrase of the lesson, that is, the practical part, the living-it-out part. And this phrase can be distilled from the gospel of John into three demonstrative instructions.

First, Jesus commanded his disciples to love one another. Love was a no-compromise for him, and he was leaving nothing to chance. It is no excuse for one to proclaim that he loves God, but shun His people or view them with disdain. Self-righteousness would have unraveled all of Jesus’ teachings. For Jesus did not faithfully call his disciples out of their own world just so that they may return to it unchanged, unredeemed.

So, he preempted his disciples on that and issued the second instruction by setting the example. He washed their feet. Each of them got a personal pedicure from Jesus, so to speak. If love came down to give of himself without reservation, then grace stooped low to serve all without condition.

That was the message all along. For he stands tallest when on his knees and that night, Jesus exemplified servanthood with his towel and basin ministry. The act disarmed their hearts, and I believe, transformed it forever.

With that came his third and final instruction. It was an instruction of empowerment. You see, Jesus had showed them unceasing love in his walk with them. He had demonstrated servanthood by washing their feet. He imparted the grace of love, unity and fellowship with his last two instructions. Now it is time to impart the grace of resilience and strength.

The final instruction came in these words: "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world."

That was it. The last supper ended on that somewhat foreboding note. The words that lingered with the disciples were “trouble” and “overcome”. Alas, Jesus did not mention anything about the coming wealth and prosperity they were to inherit. He did not entice or bait them with false hope and vain promises. It was not about what they wanted to hear, but what they needed to hear. And he never said that following him was going to be easy, smooth sailing or a slam dunk. On the contrary, Jesus specifically told them to count the cost. Alas, today’s prosperity preachers would rather we count only the benefits.

In fact, his parting words were a foretaste of what is to come, and each of his disciples experienced the full brunt of it in their own time. Almost all of them gave their life unconditionally in faith and hope. They followed their Savior to the ends of the earth. And they never looked back.

That was how transforming an evening meal became. The last supper was the last rite of passage before the disciples fully mature in their faith. The last supper was the final bonding session with their savior before the real work began. It was the last meal they had together before the true test of devotion to the great commission commenced.

Yet, they all passed with flying colors. They all held high the banner of their love, faith and hope – even to their grave. The joy of the Lord was indeed their strength.

In the end, the last supper was Jesus’ final postcard of love personally autographed to his disciples. It was therefore more than just a gastronomical delight. It was a meal well worth the partaking. It was a meal the partakers could not forget. And as N.T. Wright implied in the above quote that started it all, the last supper was much more than an invitation to a simple evening meal. It was a loaded meal. It was in fact an invitation to change the world. Cheerz.