DER HERR / The Lord
Weiters möchte ich einen Abschnitt aus Romano Guardini`s „DER HERR“ Über Leben und Person Jesu Christi, ab Seite 271, darbieten: …
Hat Jesus unser Menschenleben gelebt? Sicherlich. Ist Er unseren Tod gestorben? Ganz gewiß; unsere Erlösung hängt daran, dass Er in allem uns gleich geworden ist, außer der Sünde (Hebr. 4,15). Dennoch steht hinter seinem Leben und Sterben etwas, das mehr ist als Leben und Tod im nächsten Sinne. Etwas, wofür wir eigentlich einen anderen Namen haben müßten. In Jesus war etwas von unendlicher Fülle und heiliger Unzerstörbarkeit, das Ihm möglich machte, ganz einer von uns zu sein und doch anders als wir alle; das Unsere durchzuleben, es aber ebendarin zu verwandeln und so unserem Leben und unserem Tode den »Stachel« zu nehmen. - Unser Leben – welch ein seltsames Ding! Es ist die Voraussetzung von allem Anderen; das Erste, vor dessen Bedrohung jene unbedingte Abwehr erwacht, die wir Notwehr nenne, und die ihr eigenes Recht hat.
Es ist kostbar; so kostbar, dass das Wunder des lebendigen Daseins einen zuweilen ganz überfluten kann, und man innehält und nicht weiß, mit welchen Worten man sagen soll, wie selig das ist, sein zu dürfen. Es freut sich, es entbehrt, es leidet. Es kämpft und schafft. Es verbindet sich mit den Dingen und durchfühlt sie. Es vereinigt sich mit anderem Leben, und daraus entsteht keine Summe, sondern Neues und Vielfaches. Es ist für uns das Erste und die Grundlage von Allem – und doch, welch sonderbarees Ding! Oder ist es nicht sonderbar, dass wir um Eines zu besitzen, ein Anderes lassen müssen? Daß wir, um etwas zu tun, entscheiden müssen, das heißt, es abscheiden vom Übrigen? Wollen wir einem Menschen gerecht werden, dann tun wir den Anderen Unrecht, und sei es nur dadurch, dass wir sie nicht in Auge und Herz nehmen können, weil die nicht für alle Raum haben. Erleben wir, dann können wir nicht wissen, dass wir erleben; sobald wir uns aber das zum Bewußtsein bringen, unterbrechen wir den Strom. Wach sein ist herrlich, aber wir werden müde und verlangen in den Schlaf, und dann entgleiten wir uns. Schlafen tut gut, aber ist es nicht schlimm, daß man die Hälfte seines Lebens verschläft? Leben ist Einheit; bedeutet, sich selber inne zu sein und die Dinge hereinzubekommen; eins zu sein in der der Fülle der Erscheinungen, und wiederum in jeden einzelnen Akt die Fülle der Ganzheit hineinwerfen zu können. Überall aber laufen die Risse. Überall heißt es: entweder das, oder das. Und wehe uns, wenn wir nicht gehorchen; denn daran, daß wir das Entweder-Oder sauber vollbringen, hängt ja die Anständigkeit des Daseins. Sobald wir versuchen, alles zu bekommen, haben wir nichts richtig. Sobald wir allen Menschen gerecht werden wollen, werden wir verächtlich. Sobald wir nach dem Ganzen greifen, zerfließt unsere Gestalt. So werfen wir uns in klare Unterscheidung. Aber wieder wehe uns; wir zerschneiden unser Dasein. Wirklich, unser Leben hat etwas Unmögliches. Es muß wollen, was es nicht kann – als ob in einem Plan vom ersten Anfang an ein Fehler säße und sich in allem auswirkte. Und die Vergänglichkeit, die entsetzliche Vergänglichkeit!
Ist das möglich, dass etwas nur sein kann, indem es sich zerstört? Bedeutet Leben nicht Vorübergehen? Un läuft dieses Vergehen nicht um so rascher, je stärker wir leben? Geschieht das Sterben nicht schon im Leben? Drückt es nicht eine verzweifelte Wahrheit aus, wenn unsere Tage auf den Tod zugehen? Aber ist der Tod wirklich in Ordnung? Müssen wir uns ihm unterwerfen? Völker im Frühzustand empfinden ihn durchaus nicht als selbstverständlichen, normalen Gegenpol zum Leben. Tritt er ein, so geht das immer auf eine besondere Ursache zurück, und zwar auf eine böse geistige Macht – selbst dann, wenn es sich um ein ganz ausgelebtes Leben, um einen Unglücksfall, oder den Tod im Kriege handelt. Ist der Tod selbstverständlich? Wenn er das wäre, dann müssten wir uns ihn fügen, und zwar mit dem Gefühl einer letzten, wenn auch noch so schwer bezahlten Erfüllung. Wo gibt es aber einen solchen Tod? Die echte Stellung des Menschen zum Tod ist Gegewehr und Protest, und zwar aus der Mitte seines Wesens. Der Tod ist nicht selbstverständlich, und jeder Versuch, ihn dafür zu nehmen, mündet in unendliche Schwermut. Leben und Tod romantisch als Pole des Daseins, als Licht und Finsternis, mit Auftauchen und Untergang gleichsetzen, ist ästhetische Gedankenlosigkeit. In Einem aber hat sie recht: unser jetziges Leben und unser jetziges Sterben gehören zusammen. Es sind zwei Seiten ein und derselben Tatsache. Eben diese Tatsache war in Jesus nicht.
In Ihm war etwas, das über diesem Leben und über diesem Sterben stand. Das hat Ihn nicht gehindert, unser ganzes Leben zu vollziehen – ja von dort her hat Er es ganz anders rein und tief gelebt, als das uns möglich ist. Man hat darauf aufmerksam gemacht, wie arm Jesu Leben war; wie dürftig an Inhalt, an Geschehnissen und Begegnungen. Durch das Leben des Buddha seien die Dinge der Welt gegangen, der Sinne und des Geistes, Macht, Kunst und Weisheit, Familie und Einsamkeit, Reichtum und wieder vollkommener Verzicht; vor allem sei ihm ein langes Leben beschieden gewesen – seltsam kurz sei dagegen das Leben Jesu; kärglich an Inhalt; bruchstückhaft in Werk und Tun. Doch einmal war die Gestalt des Herrenlebens das Opfer, das Nichtangenommen-werden von der Welt; so konnte seine Gestalt nicht reich sein. Was Er aber erlebte, jede Gebärde des Daseins, jedes Tun und jede Begegnung, erfuhr er mit einer Tiefe und Gewalt, die alle Vielzahl und Vielfalt überwiegt. Wenn er den Fischer und den Bettler und den Hauptmann traf, so war darin mehr, als wenn Buddha alles kennenlernte, was Menschenleben heißt … Jesus hat unser Menschenleben wirklich gelebt. Und Er hat unser Sterben erfahren. Er ist wirklich den Tod gestorben; und dessen Schrecken waren umso furchtbarer, als sein Leben zarter und stärker war. Dennoch war bei Ihm alles anders als bei uns.
Was macht eigentlich das Wesen des menschlichen Lebens aus? Natürlich kann die Menschenseele nicht sterben wie der Leib; da sie Geist und damit unzerstörbar ist, kann sie nicht zerfallen. Doch die Unsterblichkeit, von der die Schrift spricht, kommt nicht aus der Seele selbst, sondern von Gott. Der Leib hat sein Leben von der Seele und unterscheidet sich dadurch von Ochs und Esel. Das Wesen des Menschenleibes besteht darin, dass sein Leben wie ein Flammenbogen von der Seele herüberkommt. Das Leben der Seele aber, von dem die Offenbarung redet, kommt von Gott herüber, in jenem Flammenbogen, der »Gnade« heißt. Doch an diesem Leben nimmt nicht nur der Geist, sondern auch der Leib teil. Der ganze gläubige Mensch, Leib und Seele, lebt aus Gott. Das ist die eigentliche, die heilige Unsterblichkeit … Gott hat das Leben des Menschen geheimnisvoll gebildet. Seine Seinsmitte soll gleichsam in Gott hinaufsteigen und ihr Leben von Ihm herunterbringen. Der Mensch soll von oben herab leben, nicht von unten hinauf. Von unten hinauf lebt das Tier. Der Leib des Menschen hingegen soll von der geistigen Seele herab leben, und seine Seele von Gott, und durch sie der ganze Mensch. Eben dieses Lebensganze aber hat die Sünde zerbrochen. Sie war der Wille, aus sich selbst heraus zu leben, autonom, »wie Gott« (Gen 3,5). Da erlosch der Flammenbogen. Alles fiel in sich zusammen. Wohl war noch die Geistseele da; sie konnte ja nicht aufhören zu sein, da sie nicht zerstört werden konnte. Aber es war eine gespenstische Unzerstörbarkeit: die einer Not. Auch der Leib war noch da, denn in ihm war ja die Seele. Aber die »tote« Seele, die nicht mehr jenes Leben geben konnte, das Gott dem Menschen zugedacht hatte. So wurde das Leben wirklich und nicht-wirklich zugleich, Ordnung und Chaos, Bestehen und Vergehen.
Eben das ist in Jesus Christus anders. In Ihm steht der Flammenbogen göttlich rein und stark. In Ihm heißt er nicht nur »Gnade«, sondern »Heiliger Geist«. Sein Menschenwesen lebt aus Gott in der Fülle des Heiligen Geistes. Durch den Geist ist Er geworden, und in der Fülle dieses Geistes vollzieht sich sein Leben. Nicht nur als das eines gottliebenden Menschen, sondern als Eines, der menschlich ist und göttlich zugleich. Mehr noch: so wie Christus kann Mensch nur sein, wer Gott nicht nur »anhängt«, sondern Gott »ist«. Sein Menschentum ist anders lebendig, als das von uns Menschen sonst. Der Flammenbogen zwischen dem Sohn Gottes und dem Menschenwesen Jesu – aber nur unser hilfloser Verstand redet von einem »Zwischen«, wo eine Durchdringung war, von deren Innigkeit wir keinen Begriff haben – dieses Glühende ist jenes Etwas, von dem wir sprachen. Es steht hinter seinem Leben und Sterben. Von ihm her lebt Jesus unser Menschenleben und stirbt Er unseren Menschentod, tiefer, als wie es je vermöchten, und eben damit beides verwandelnd. Von ihm her wird auch unser Leben anders und unser Tod. Von dorther beginnt eine neue Möglichkeit des Lebens und Sterbens.
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Trefflich drückt Naomi Klein unsere praktische wie spirituelle Globallage in ihrem Buch „Warum nur ein GreenNewDeal unseren Planeten retten kann“ aus:
„ … Hinter der Bühne, auf der einige Regierungen den Klimawandel leugnen und andere behaupten, etwas dagegen zu tun, während sie ihre Grenzen befestigen, um sich vor den Klimafolgen zu schützen, steht eine Frage, der wir uns stellen müssen. Was für Menschen wollen wir sein in der harten Zukunft, die bereits begonnen hat? Wollen wir teilen, was übrig ist, und füreinander sorgen? Oder wollen wir stattdessen die verbliebenen Reste horten, für »uns selbst« sorgen und alle anderen aussperren?
In einer Zeit der steigenden Meeresspiegel, Xenophobie und des zunehmenden Faschismus sind dies krasse Entscheidungen. Es gibt noch andere Optionen außer extremer Klimabarberei, bedenkt man aber, wie weit es schon gekommen ist, hat es keinen Sinn zu behaupten, diese Alternativen seien leicht zu realisieren. Es ist weit mehr vonnöten als eine CO2-Steuer oder einer Neuauflage des Emissionshandels. Wir müssen einen Krieg führen gegen CO2-Verschmutzung und Armut, gegen Rassismus und Kolonialismus und gegen die Verzweiflung.
Wenn wir eine Zukunft ablehnen, die durch brutale Ausgrenzung von Armen und Unschuldigen gekennzeichnet ist, dann müssen wir die Stärke aufbringen, es mit den Mächtigen aufzunehmen, denen die Verantwortung für die Klimakrise zufällt. Die Vorstellung, gegen den Fossilsektor vorzugehen, kann einschüchternd wirken: Den Konzernen stehen unbegrenzte Mittel zur Verfügung, um Politiker mittels intensiver Lobbyarbeit zur Verabschiedung drakonischer Gesetze gegen Aktivisten zu veranlassen. … Und doch ist dieser Sektor sehr wohl durch verschiedene Aktionsformen angreifbar.
In den vergangenen fünf Jahren bestand eine zentrale Strategie der Klimagerechtigkeitsbewegung darin, aufzuzeigen, dass diese Unternehmen amoralisch agieren und ihre Gewinne unrechtmäßig erworben haben, weil ihr Geschäftsmodell im Kern darin besteht, die menschliche Zivilisation zu destabilisieren. Dank dieser Strategie haben Hunderte Institutionen beschlossen, im Zuge des »Divestment« Aktien dieser Unternehmen in ihrem Depot abzustoßen. Unlängst hat die Sunraise-Bewegung ihren Schwerpunkt darauf gelegt, von gewählten Politikern die Versicherung zu verlangen, dass sie keine Spenden von Fossilkonzernen annehmen werden, wozu sich über die Hälfte der demokratischen Kandidaten sofort bereit erklärten. Wenn die regierenden Parteien auf Spenden von Klimazerstörern und Gespräche mit Fossil-Lobbyisten verzichten würden, könnte der politische Einfluss der Branche dramatisch schrumpfen. Und wenn die Medien, angesichts von öffentlichem Druck und entsprechenden Vorschriften, keine Werbung von Fossilkonzernen mehr bringen würden, so wie es bei der Tabakwerbung der Fall war, dann würde der unverhältnismäßige Einfluss der Branche weiter schwinden.
Sobald die Debatte nicht mehr durch Falschinformationen verzerrt und einen klare Trennlinie zwischen Erdölindustrie und Staat gezogen wird, wäre der Weg zu wirksamen Vorschriften, die diesem Schurkensektor rasch beikommen würde, klar vorgezeichnet.“
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Here in English:
Furthermore, I would like to present a passage from Romano Guardini’s *The Lord*—regarding the life and person of Jesus Christ—starting on page 271: …
Did Jesus live our human life? Certainly. Did He die our death? Most assuredly; our redemption depends on the fact that He became like us in all things, except sin (Heb. 4:15). Yet, behind His life and death lies something that is more than life and death in the immediate sense—something for which we ought, in truth, to have a different name. In Jesus, there was something of infinite fullness and holy indestructibility that enabled Him to be wholly one of us and yet different from us all; to live through our human experience, yet in doing so to transform it, and thus to take the "sting" out of our life and our death. — Our life—what a strange thing it is! It is the prerequisite for everything else; the primary reality against whose threatened loss that absolute defensive instinct awakens which we call self-defense—an instinct that possesses its own legitimacy.
It is precious; so precious that the miracle of living existence can at times utterly overwhelm one, causing one to pause, unable to find the words to express the blessedness of simply being allowed to exist. It rejoices, it endures want, it suffers. It struggles and creates. It connects with things and deeply experiences them. It unites with other life, and from this union arises not merely a sum, but something new and manifold. For us, it is the primary reality and the foundation of everything—and yet, what a peculiar thing it is! Or is it not peculiar that, to possess one thing, we must let go of another? That to do something, we must make a choice—which means cutting that act off from the rest? If we seek to do justice to one person, we wrong others—if only because we cannot hold them all in our eyes and hearts, for there is not room for everyone there. When we are experiencing something, we cannot know that we are experiencing it; yet the moment we bring this to our awareness, we interrupt the flow. Being awake is glorious, but we grow weary and long for sleep, and then we slip away from ourselves. Sleep does us good, yet is it not terrible to sleep away half of one’s life? Life is unity; it means being aware of oneself and taking the world in; being one amidst the profusion of phenomena, and yet being able to infuse the fullness of the whole into every single act. Yet cracks run everywhere. Everywhere the choice is: this, or that. And woe betide us if we do not obey; for the decency of our existence depends on our cleanly executing this "either-or." The moment we try to have everything, we possess nothing truly. The moment we seek to do justice to everyone, we become contemptible. The moment we reach for the Whole, our own form dissolves. So we cast ourselves into clear distinctions. But woe to us again; we tear our existence apart. Truly, there is something impossible about our life. It must will what it cannot achieve—as if a flaw lay in the original plan, making itself felt in everything. And transience—that terrifying transience!
Is it possible for something to exist only by destroying itself? Does life not mean passing away? And does this passing away not accelerate the more intensely we live? Does dying not take place within life itself? Does it not express a desperate truth that our days are moving toward death? But is death truly acceptable? Must we submit to it? Peoples in an early stage of development certainly do not perceive it as a self-evident, normal counterpart to life. When it occurs, it is always traced back to a specific cause—namely, an evil spiritual power—even in cases of a life fully lived, an accident, or death in war. Is death a matter of course? If it were, we would have to resign ourselves to it with a sense of ultimate fulfillment, however dearly bought. Yet where does such a death exist? Man’s true stance toward death is one of resistance and protest, arising from the very core of his being. Death is not a matter of course, and any attempt to treat it as such leads to profound melancholy. To romanticize life and death by equating them as poles of existence—as light and darkness, as emergence and decline—is a form of aesthetic thoughtlessness. Yet in one respect, this view is right: our present life and our present dying belong together. They are two sides of one and the same fact. It was precisely this fact that was absent in Jesus.
In Him, there was something that transcended this life and this dying. This did not prevent Him from fully living out our human life—indeed, from that vantage point, He lived it with a purity and depth far beyond our own capacity. Attention has been drawn to how impoverished Jesus’ life was—how meager in terms of substance, events, and encounters. It is said that the things of the world—of the senses and the spirit, power, ...—passed through the life of the Buddha. Through the life of the Buddha, the things of the world passed: the senses and the mind, power, art and wisdom, family and solitude, wealth and then complete renunciation. Above all, he was granted a long life—strangely short, by contrast, was the life of Jesus; meager in content; fragmentary in work and action. Yet the very essence of the Lord's life was sacrifice, the ultimate rejection by the world; thus, his life could not be rich. But what he experienced, every gesture of existence, every action and every encounter, he perceived with a depth and power that surpasses all multitude and diversity. When he met the fisherman and the beggar and the centurion, there was more in it than when the Buddha came to know everything that human life entails… Jesus truly lived our human life. And he experienced our dying. He truly died; and its horrors were all the more terrible because his life was more tender and stronger. Yet with him, everything was different from ours.
What actually constitutes the essence of human life? Of course, the human soul cannot die like the body; since it is spirit and therefore indestructible, it cannot decay. But the immortality of which Scripture speaks does not come from the soul itself, but from God. The body receives its life from the soul and is thus distinguished from the ox and the donkey. The essence of the human body consists in the fact that its life flows from the soul like a bow of flame. But the life of the soul, of which Revelation speaks, comes from God, in that bow of flame which is called "grace." Yet not only the spirit, but also the body participates in this life. The whole believing person, body and soul, lives from God. This is true, holy immortality… God mysteriously formed the life of man. His center of being is to ascend, as it were, into God and bring his life down from Him. Man is to live from above, not from below upward. Animals live from below upward. The human body, however, is meant to live from the spiritual soul, and the soul from God, and through it the whole person. But it was precisely this wholeness of life that sin shattered. It was the will to live independently, autonomously, "like God" (Genesis 3:5). Then the arc of flame was extinguished. Everything collapsed in on itself. The spiritual soul was still there; it could not cease to exist, since it could not be destroyed. But it was a ghostly indestructibility: that of a desperate need. The body, too, was still there, for the soul resided within it. But the "dead" soul, which could no longer give the life that God had intended for humankind, was now gone. Thus, life became both real and unreal at the same time, order and chaos, existence and decay.
This is precisely what is different in Jesus Christ. In Him, the arc of flame is divinely pure and powerful. In Him, it is called not merely ‘Grace’, but ‘the Holy Spirit’. His human nature draws its life from God in the fullness of the Holy Spirit. Through the Spirit He came into being, and His life is lived out in the fullness of this Spirit. Not merely as that of a God-loving human being, but as One who is both human and divine at the same time. Moreover: just as Christ, a human being can only be one who does not merely ‘adhere’ to God, but ‘is’ God. His humanity is alive in a different way to that of us humans. The arc of flame between the Son of God and the human being Jesus – though it is only our feeble intellect that speaks of an ‘in-between’, where there was an interpenetration of which we have no concept of its intimacy – this glowing essence is that very thing of which we spoke. It lies behind his life and death. It is from this that Jesus lives our human life and dies our human death, more profoundly than we could ever manage, and thereby transforming both. It is from this that our life and our death, too, are transformed. From there begins a new possibility of living and dying.
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W A R ON THIS BEAUTIFUL EARTH
Merciful God of peace,
We come to you speechless and powerless.
We observe the brutal business of war, increasing aggression and threats.
All mediations seem to be unsuccessful, the fear of destruction and suffering is rampant.
In this situation we ask you for a new spirit for peace and reconciliation,
for insight and conversion of hearts.
With your help it won't be too late, to enable decisions which prevent destruction and misery.
In the name of all those who directly are affected, threatened and involved, we long for the miracle of peace - for Ukraine, Russia and all of Europe.
You God of life, comfort and love, we trust in your goodness and providence. Amen.
Prayer by Bishop H. Glettler, February 23, 2022
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War
You most horrible act of man,
you misdeed On both sides, rob the father his son,
believe to defend the fatherland.
You kill mothers' sons, you murder women's husbands,
snatch the fathers from the children.
Separate lovers forever, who had just found each other.
You take away from friends their friends,
trample in minutes, what Created over the centuries
and built, that Generations guarded.
Divide the happiness of the individual
in order to to dismember her body.
Lets veterans survive, and mutilated back in body and soul,
lest they curse you.
Leaves only rubble and heaps,
Cripples vegetating in abject poverty,
and you always emerge new, like you're making a promise.
You are the worst of crimes.
Erhard Blanck
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David and Goliath
The Philistines gathered their armies together for battle and came together to Socho in Judah and camped between Socho and Azekah at Ephesdamim. But Saul and the men of Israel came together and camped in the pit and prepared themselves to fight against the Philistines. And the Philistines stood on a mountain on the other side, and the Israelites on a mountain on this side, with a valley between them. Then out of the camp of the Philistines came a giant named Goliath of Gath, six cubits and a hand's breadth high; and he had a helmet of brass upon his head, and a coat of armor of scales, and the weight of his breastplate was five thousand shekels of brass, and he had breastplates of brass upon his thighs, and a shield of brass upon his shoulders.
And the shaft of his spear was like a weaver's beam, and the iron of his spear was six hundred shekels of iron; and his shield-bearer went before him. And he stood and called to the host of Israel, and said to them, Why did you go out to prepare yourselves for battle? Am I not a Philistine and you Saul's servants? Choose one of you to come down to me.
If he is able to fight against me and strike me, then we will be your servants; But if I have power against him and smite him, then you shall be our servants to serve us. And the Philistine said, I have defied the host of Israel this day: Give me one, and let us fight together. When Saul and all Israel heard this saying of the Philistine, they were astonished and afraid...
Then David rose up early in the morning, and left the sheep to the keeper, and carried and went, as Jesse had commanded him, and came to the chariot. And the army went out and prepared themselves, and they shouted in battle... Behold, a giant named Goliath, the Philistine of Gath, came up from the Philistine army and spoke, and David heard it. But every man in Israel, when he saw the man, fled from him, and was sore afraid.... Then David said to the men who stood with him, What will they do to him who strikes this Philistine? and turns away the shame of Israel? For who is the Philistine, this uncircumcised man, who defies the army of the living God? ........
But Saul said to David, You cannot go against this Philistine to fight with him; for you are a boy, but this man has been a man of war from his youth ............
And David said, The LORD who delivered me from the lion and the bear will also deliver me from this Philistine... and he took his staff in his hand and chose five smooth stones from the stream and did put them in the shepherd's bag that he had and in the sack and took the sling in his hand and went to the Philistine ...........
Now when the Philistine saw and looked upon David, he despised him; for he was a boy, brownish and beautiful. And the Philistine said to David, Am I a dog that you come to me with sticks? And he cursed David by his God, and said to David, Come unto me, and I will give thy flesh to the birds of the air, and to the beasts of the field. But David said to the Philistine, “You come to me with a sword, a spear, and a shield; But I come to you in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of the hosts of Israel, whom you have insulted... Now when the Philistine arose and came near to David, David hastened and ran toward the army to meet the Philistine.
And David put his hand in his pocket, and took a stone from it, and hurled it, and struck the Philistine in his forehead, and the stone pierced his forehead, and he fell to the ground on his face. So David overcame the Philistine with the sling and with the stone and struck him and killed him. And since David had no sword in his hand, he ran and went to the Philistine, and taking his sword, drew it out of its sheath, and killed him, and cut off his head with it. But when the Philistines saw that their strongest man was dead, they fled. 1 Samuel - Chapter 17
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Two men will work in the field; one is accepted and the other is left behind. Two women will grind grain; one is accepted, the other is left behind.
Matthew 24:40-41
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We are currently threatened by more trouble than climate change 20 active wars globally!
But wars are also one of the consequences of a general distance from God.
The World Assembly of Christians prayed this in Seoul in 1990: "I believe in God, who is love and who has given the earth to all people. I do not believe in the right of the strongest, in the strength of arms, in the power of oppression. I believe in Jesus Christ, who came to heal us and who frees us from deadly addictions. I do not believe that wars are inevitable, that peace is unattainable. I believe in the communion of saints, the Church, which is called to be at the service of all people. I do not believe that suffering must be in vain, that God has willed the destruction of the earth. I believe that God wants an order for the earth that is based on justice and love, and that all men and women are equal human beings. I believe in God's promise of a new heaven and a new earth where justice and peace kiss. I believe in love with open hands, in peace on earth. Amen."
Also read the bestseller: "Peace is STILL possible" by environmental journalist Franz Alt.
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Dr. Heribert Prantl writes about the Jewish/Christian God in his bestseller DEN FRIEDEN GEWINNEN in 2024. He looks at the myths of the creation of the world, of paradise, of the first humans, of the Flood: ... the biblical canon, as a significant, normative past that does not pass away. They are “real” in the literal sense of the word, they continue to have an effect, they are our prehistory on our very own questions of being human and the origin of our humanity as it is. It is a world full of violence that demands interpretation and orientation. It tells us that Cain, the first child of the first human couple created by God, is a murderer. The myth enters into the most disturbing historical reality: man kills his brother. The brutal bluntness of the narrative poses this question of meaning in Gen 4:1-16 of “holy scripture”; what if it were silent about such realities? ... The Cain and Abel story reveals one of the causes of violence:
Inequality and power imbalance among people. Cain, the fratricide, is the prototype of the man who is consumed by his anger out of perceived lost honor. Just like in life: One has a mother who loves him, the other a father who hates him. One gets a clever head, the other a weak heart. Fate gives one and not the other. Why him and not me? Everyone has to come to terms with it at some point. God speaks to Cain: Why are your features slipping? Cain's offended narcissism has opened the door to sin. “Your brother's blood cries aloud to me.” With a protective mark of Cain, he now wanders restlessly through the world. He imposes the curse of his evil deed on himself. However, as the founder of a city with amenities, culture, progress, technology, etc., these also contain the “being bought” associated with violence.
In the Flood narrative, on the other hand, God shows himself to be a brutal murderer of his entire world. In his fervent zeal, he not only kills the man, but also the mouse. The flood myth also exists in similar versions in other ancient religions. However, the Old Testament connects the force of nature with the unjust actions of man. One can, one must be horrified by this God who behaves like a fundamentalist mass murderer who wants the world to be good and pure. But then God says: “Never again!” The same ability to compromise is now written into our hearts. ... These cruel texts in the OT are therefore not innocent. They are disturbing and therefore not immune to criticism - on the contrary - it must be in the interest of Christians to subject them to critical examination. Gen 9, 1-13
God blessed Noah and his sons and said to them: “Be fruitful, multiply and populate the earth.
Fear and dread of you shall be upon all the beasts of the earth, upon all the birds of the air, upon everything that moves on the earth and upon all the fish of the sea; they have been given over to you.
Every living thing that moves shall be your food. I give you everything like the green plants.
Only flesh in which there is still blood you may not eat.
But when your blood is shed, I will demand an account for the blood of each one of you. I demand an account from every animal and from man. For the life of man I demand an account from each of his brothers.
Whoever sheds the blood of man, his blood will be shed by man. For he made man in the image of God.
Be fruitful and multiply; populate the earth and multiply in it.
Then God spoke to Noah and his sons who were with him:
I hereby make my covenant with you and with your descendants
and with all living creatures with you, with the birds, the cattle and all the beasts of the field, with all the animals of the earth that came out of the ark with you.
I have made my covenant with you: Never again shall all creatures of flesh be cut off by the waters of the flood; never again shall a flood come and destroy the earth.
And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I am making between me and you and the living creatures.
Prantl goes on to draw a number of parallels in the context of our older and more recent history. His examination of violence and non-violence in armed conflict also takes as an example the taking of Jericho: Many wars of God in the Old Testament have a sacred character; here it has all the ingredients of a fantasy thriller: a fortress, spies by night, a harlot with whom they hide, a lot of noise and, above all, it is about good versus evil. With trumpets, led by the priests, Israel marches around the city wall seven times. Then the people let out a mighty shout of joy and the walls collapse.
The fortress of Jericho stands for the almost invincible, aggressive great powers that threaten the land. The narrative of victory over them is an anti-despair narrative that sets the victims of violence and bloodshed against the experienced reality.
The Old Testament scholar Jürgen Ebach has this to say about the “law of war” formulated in Genesis 5.20: “Well, there would be no more effective means of actually preventing real wars than if this instruction were adhered to. Then all potential soldiers who still have a wife to marry, a child to father, a house to build or who are simply afraid would be allowed to stay at home. Then there would be no need for highly armed troops at all. After all, if God himself is fighting, the left-handers are enough, or you could take an enemy city with a music corps - the walls would fall down from the sound of the trumpet. In short: these instructions are just not for a real war ... I found Prantl's book: CHILDHOOD - first home - not only very appealing. Faith and religion were and are both warmongers and a force for peace. The one should be tamed and the other must be encouraged.
Hat Jesus unser Menschenleben gelebt? Sicherlich. Ist Er unseren Tod gestorben? Ganz gewiß; unsere Erlösung hängt daran, dass Er in allem uns gleich geworden ist, außer der Sünde (Hebr. 4,15). Dennoch steht hinter seinem Leben und Sterben etwas, das mehr ist als Leben und Tod im nächsten Sinne. Etwas, wofür wir eigentlich einen anderen Namen haben müßten. In Jesus war etwas von unendlicher Fülle und heiliger Unzerstörbarkeit, das Ihm möglich machte, ganz einer von uns zu sein und doch anders als wir alle; das Unsere durchzuleben, es aber ebendarin zu verwandeln und so unserem Leben und unserem Tode den »Stachel« zu nehmen. - Unser Leben – welch ein seltsames Ding! Es ist die Voraussetzung von allem Anderen; das Erste, vor dessen Bedrohung jene unbedingte Abwehr erwacht, die wir Notwehr nenne, und die ihr eigenes Recht hat.
Es ist kostbar; so kostbar, dass das Wunder des lebendigen Daseins einen zuweilen ganz überfluten kann, und man innehält und nicht weiß, mit welchen Worten man sagen soll, wie selig das ist, sein zu dürfen. Es freut sich, es entbehrt, es leidet. Es kämpft und schafft. Es verbindet sich mit den Dingen und durchfühlt sie. Es vereinigt sich mit anderem Leben, und daraus entsteht keine Summe, sondern Neues und Vielfaches. Es ist für uns das Erste und die Grundlage von Allem – und doch, welch sonderbarees Ding! Oder ist es nicht sonderbar, dass wir um Eines zu besitzen, ein Anderes lassen müssen? Daß wir, um etwas zu tun, entscheiden müssen, das heißt, es abscheiden vom Übrigen? Wollen wir einem Menschen gerecht werden, dann tun wir den Anderen Unrecht, und sei es nur dadurch, dass wir sie nicht in Auge und Herz nehmen können, weil die nicht für alle Raum haben. Erleben wir, dann können wir nicht wissen, dass wir erleben; sobald wir uns aber das zum Bewußtsein bringen, unterbrechen wir den Strom. Wach sein ist herrlich, aber wir werden müde und verlangen in den Schlaf, und dann entgleiten wir uns. Schlafen tut gut, aber ist es nicht schlimm, daß man die Hälfte seines Lebens verschläft? Leben ist Einheit; bedeutet, sich selber inne zu sein und die Dinge hereinzubekommen; eins zu sein in der der Fülle der Erscheinungen, und wiederum in jeden einzelnen Akt die Fülle der Ganzheit hineinwerfen zu können. Überall aber laufen die Risse. Überall heißt es: entweder das, oder das. Und wehe uns, wenn wir nicht gehorchen; denn daran, daß wir das Entweder-Oder sauber vollbringen, hängt ja die Anständigkeit des Daseins. Sobald wir versuchen, alles zu bekommen, haben wir nichts richtig. Sobald wir allen Menschen gerecht werden wollen, werden wir verächtlich. Sobald wir nach dem Ganzen greifen, zerfließt unsere Gestalt. So werfen wir uns in klare Unterscheidung. Aber wieder wehe uns; wir zerschneiden unser Dasein. Wirklich, unser Leben hat etwas Unmögliches. Es muß wollen, was es nicht kann – als ob in einem Plan vom ersten Anfang an ein Fehler säße und sich in allem auswirkte. Und die Vergänglichkeit, die entsetzliche Vergänglichkeit!
Ist das möglich, dass etwas nur sein kann, indem es sich zerstört? Bedeutet Leben nicht Vorübergehen? Un läuft dieses Vergehen nicht um so rascher, je stärker wir leben? Geschieht das Sterben nicht schon im Leben? Drückt es nicht eine verzweifelte Wahrheit aus, wenn unsere Tage auf den Tod zugehen? Aber ist der Tod wirklich in Ordnung? Müssen wir uns ihm unterwerfen? Völker im Frühzustand empfinden ihn durchaus nicht als selbstverständlichen, normalen Gegenpol zum Leben. Tritt er ein, so geht das immer auf eine besondere Ursache zurück, und zwar auf eine böse geistige Macht – selbst dann, wenn es sich um ein ganz ausgelebtes Leben, um einen Unglücksfall, oder den Tod im Kriege handelt. Ist der Tod selbstverständlich? Wenn er das wäre, dann müssten wir uns ihn fügen, und zwar mit dem Gefühl einer letzten, wenn auch noch so schwer bezahlten Erfüllung. Wo gibt es aber einen solchen Tod? Die echte Stellung des Menschen zum Tod ist Gegewehr und Protest, und zwar aus der Mitte seines Wesens. Der Tod ist nicht selbstverständlich, und jeder Versuch, ihn dafür zu nehmen, mündet in unendliche Schwermut. Leben und Tod romantisch als Pole des Daseins, als Licht und Finsternis, mit Auftauchen und Untergang gleichsetzen, ist ästhetische Gedankenlosigkeit. In Einem aber hat sie recht: unser jetziges Leben und unser jetziges Sterben gehören zusammen. Es sind zwei Seiten ein und derselben Tatsache. Eben diese Tatsache war in Jesus nicht.
In Ihm war etwas, das über diesem Leben und über diesem Sterben stand. Das hat Ihn nicht gehindert, unser ganzes Leben zu vollziehen – ja von dort her hat Er es ganz anders rein und tief gelebt, als das uns möglich ist. Man hat darauf aufmerksam gemacht, wie arm Jesu Leben war; wie dürftig an Inhalt, an Geschehnissen und Begegnungen. Durch das Leben des Buddha seien die Dinge der Welt gegangen, der Sinne und des Geistes, Macht, Kunst und Weisheit, Familie und Einsamkeit, Reichtum und wieder vollkommener Verzicht; vor allem sei ihm ein langes Leben beschieden gewesen – seltsam kurz sei dagegen das Leben Jesu; kärglich an Inhalt; bruchstückhaft in Werk und Tun. Doch einmal war die Gestalt des Herrenlebens das Opfer, das Nichtangenommen-werden von der Welt; so konnte seine Gestalt nicht reich sein. Was Er aber erlebte, jede Gebärde des Daseins, jedes Tun und jede Begegnung, erfuhr er mit einer Tiefe und Gewalt, die alle Vielzahl und Vielfalt überwiegt. Wenn er den Fischer und den Bettler und den Hauptmann traf, so war darin mehr, als wenn Buddha alles kennenlernte, was Menschenleben heißt … Jesus hat unser Menschenleben wirklich gelebt. Und Er hat unser Sterben erfahren. Er ist wirklich den Tod gestorben; und dessen Schrecken waren umso furchtbarer, als sein Leben zarter und stärker war. Dennoch war bei Ihm alles anders als bei uns.
Was macht eigentlich das Wesen des menschlichen Lebens aus? Natürlich kann die Menschenseele nicht sterben wie der Leib; da sie Geist und damit unzerstörbar ist, kann sie nicht zerfallen. Doch die Unsterblichkeit, von der die Schrift spricht, kommt nicht aus der Seele selbst, sondern von Gott. Der Leib hat sein Leben von der Seele und unterscheidet sich dadurch von Ochs und Esel. Das Wesen des Menschenleibes besteht darin, dass sein Leben wie ein Flammenbogen von der Seele herüberkommt. Das Leben der Seele aber, von dem die Offenbarung redet, kommt von Gott herüber, in jenem Flammenbogen, der »Gnade« heißt. Doch an diesem Leben nimmt nicht nur der Geist, sondern auch der Leib teil. Der ganze gläubige Mensch, Leib und Seele, lebt aus Gott. Das ist die eigentliche, die heilige Unsterblichkeit … Gott hat das Leben des Menschen geheimnisvoll gebildet. Seine Seinsmitte soll gleichsam in Gott hinaufsteigen und ihr Leben von Ihm herunterbringen. Der Mensch soll von oben herab leben, nicht von unten hinauf. Von unten hinauf lebt das Tier. Der Leib des Menschen hingegen soll von der geistigen Seele herab leben, und seine Seele von Gott, und durch sie der ganze Mensch. Eben dieses Lebensganze aber hat die Sünde zerbrochen. Sie war der Wille, aus sich selbst heraus zu leben, autonom, »wie Gott« (Gen 3,5). Da erlosch der Flammenbogen. Alles fiel in sich zusammen. Wohl war noch die Geistseele da; sie konnte ja nicht aufhören zu sein, da sie nicht zerstört werden konnte. Aber es war eine gespenstische Unzerstörbarkeit: die einer Not. Auch der Leib war noch da, denn in ihm war ja die Seele. Aber die »tote« Seele, die nicht mehr jenes Leben geben konnte, das Gott dem Menschen zugedacht hatte. So wurde das Leben wirklich und nicht-wirklich zugleich, Ordnung und Chaos, Bestehen und Vergehen.
Eben das ist in Jesus Christus anders. In Ihm steht der Flammenbogen göttlich rein und stark. In Ihm heißt er nicht nur »Gnade«, sondern »Heiliger Geist«. Sein Menschenwesen lebt aus Gott in der Fülle des Heiligen Geistes. Durch den Geist ist Er geworden, und in der Fülle dieses Geistes vollzieht sich sein Leben. Nicht nur als das eines gottliebenden Menschen, sondern als Eines, der menschlich ist und göttlich zugleich. Mehr noch: so wie Christus kann Mensch nur sein, wer Gott nicht nur »anhängt«, sondern Gott »ist«. Sein Menschentum ist anders lebendig, als das von uns Menschen sonst. Der Flammenbogen zwischen dem Sohn Gottes und dem Menschenwesen Jesu – aber nur unser hilfloser Verstand redet von einem »Zwischen«, wo eine Durchdringung war, von deren Innigkeit wir keinen Begriff haben – dieses Glühende ist jenes Etwas, von dem wir sprachen. Es steht hinter seinem Leben und Sterben. Von ihm her lebt Jesus unser Menschenleben und stirbt Er unseren Menschentod, tiefer, als wie es je vermöchten, und eben damit beides verwandelnd. Von ihm her wird auch unser Leben anders und unser Tod. Von dorther beginnt eine neue Möglichkeit des Lebens und Sterbens.
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Trefflich drückt Naomi Klein unsere praktische wie spirituelle Globallage in ihrem Buch „Warum nur ein GreenNewDeal unseren Planeten retten kann“ aus:
„ … Hinter der Bühne, auf der einige Regierungen den Klimawandel leugnen und andere behaupten, etwas dagegen zu tun, während sie ihre Grenzen befestigen, um sich vor den Klimafolgen zu schützen, steht eine Frage, der wir uns stellen müssen. Was für Menschen wollen wir sein in der harten Zukunft, die bereits begonnen hat? Wollen wir teilen, was übrig ist, und füreinander sorgen? Oder wollen wir stattdessen die verbliebenen Reste horten, für »uns selbst« sorgen und alle anderen aussperren?
In einer Zeit der steigenden Meeresspiegel, Xenophobie und des zunehmenden Faschismus sind dies krasse Entscheidungen. Es gibt noch andere Optionen außer extremer Klimabarberei, bedenkt man aber, wie weit es schon gekommen ist, hat es keinen Sinn zu behaupten, diese Alternativen seien leicht zu realisieren. Es ist weit mehr vonnöten als eine CO2-Steuer oder einer Neuauflage des Emissionshandels. Wir müssen einen Krieg führen gegen CO2-Verschmutzung und Armut, gegen Rassismus und Kolonialismus und gegen die Verzweiflung.
Wenn wir eine Zukunft ablehnen, die durch brutale Ausgrenzung von Armen und Unschuldigen gekennzeichnet ist, dann müssen wir die Stärke aufbringen, es mit den Mächtigen aufzunehmen, denen die Verantwortung für die Klimakrise zufällt. Die Vorstellung, gegen den Fossilsektor vorzugehen, kann einschüchternd wirken: Den Konzernen stehen unbegrenzte Mittel zur Verfügung, um Politiker mittels intensiver Lobbyarbeit zur Verabschiedung drakonischer Gesetze gegen Aktivisten zu veranlassen. … Und doch ist dieser Sektor sehr wohl durch verschiedene Aktionsformen angreifbar.
In den vergangenen fünf Jahren bestand eine zentrale Strategie der Klimagerechtigkeitsbewegung darin, aufzuzeigen, dass diese Unternehmen amoralisch agieren und ihre Gewinne unrechtmäßig erworben haben, weil ihr Geschäftsmodell im Kern darin besteht, die menschliche Zivilisation zu destabilisieren. Dank dieser Strategie haben Hunderte Institutionen beschlossen, im Zuge des »Divestment« Aktien dieser Unternehmen in ihrem Depot abzustoßen. Unlängst hat die Sunraise-Bewegung ihren Schwerpunkt darauf gelegt, von gewählten Politikern die Versicherung zu verlangen, dass sie keine Spenden von Fossilkonzernen annehmen werden, wozu sich über die Hälfte der demokratischen Kandidaten sofort bereit erklärten. Wenn die regierenden Parteien auf Spenden von Klimazerstörern und Gespräche mit Fossil-Lobbyisten verzichten würden, könnte der politische Einfluss der Branche dramatisch schrumpfen. Und wenn die Medien, angesichts von öffentlichem Druck und entsprechenden Vorschriften, keine Werbung von Fossilkonzernen mehr bringen würden, so wie es bei der Tabakwerbung der Fall war, dann würde der unverhältnismäßige Einfluss der Branche weiter schwinden.
Sobald die Debatte nicht mehr durch Falschinformationen verzerrt und einen klare Trennlinie zwischen Erdölindustrie und Staat gezogen wird, wäre der Weg zu wirksamen Vorschriften, die diesem Schurkensektor rasch beikommen würde, klar vorgezeichnet.“
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Here in English:
Furthermore, I would like to present a passage from Romano Guardini’s *The Lord*—regarding the life and person of Jesus Christ—starting on page 271: …
Did Jesus live our human life? Certainly. Did He die our death? Most assuredly; our redemption depends on the fact that He became like us in all things, except sin (Heb. 4:15). Yet, behind His life and death lies something that is more than life and death in the immediate sense—something for which we ought, in truth, to have a different name. In Jesus, there was something of infinite fullness and holy indestructibility that enabled Him to be wholly one of us and yet different from us all; to live through our human experience, yet in doing so to transform it, and thus to take the "sting" out of our life and our death. — Our life—what a strange thing it is! It is the prerequisite for everything else; the primary reality against whose threatened loss that absolute defensive instinct awakens which we call self-defense—an instinct that possesses its own legitimacy.
It is precious; so precious that the miracle of living existence can at times utterly overwhelm one, causing one to pause, unable to find the words to express the blessedness of simply being allowed to exist. It rejoices, it endures want, it suffers. It struggles and creates. It connects with things and deeply experiences them. It unites with other life, and from this union arises not merely a sum, but something new and manifold. For us, it is the primary reality and the foundation of everything—and yet, what a peculiar thing it is! Or is it not peculiar that, to possess one thing, we must let go of another? That to do something, we must make a choice—which means cutting that act off from the rest? If we seek to do justice to one person, we wrong others—if only because we cannot hold them all in our eyes and hearts, for there is not room for everyone there. When we are experiencing something, we cannot know that we are experiencing it; yet the moment we bring this to our awareness, we interrupt the flow. Being awake is glorious, but we grow weary and long for sleep, and then we slip away from ourselves. Sleep does us good, yet is it not terrible to sleep away half of one’s life? Life is unity; it means being aware of oneself and taking the world in; being one amidst the profusion of phenomena, and yet being able to infuse the fullness of the whole into every single act. Yet cracks run everywhere. Everywhere the choice is: this, or that. And woe betide us if we do not obey; for the decency of our existence depends on our cleanly executing this "either-or." The moment we try to have everything, we possess nothing truly. The moment we seek to do justice to everyone, we become contemptible. The moment we reach for the Whole, our own form dissolves. So we cast ourselves into clear distinctions. But woe to us again; we tear our existence apart. Truly, there is something impossible about our life. It must will what it cannot achieve—as if a flaw lay in the original plan, making itself felt in everything. And transience—that terrifying transience!
Is it possible for something to exist only by destroying itself? Does life not mean passing away? And does this passing away not accelerate the more intensely we live? Does dying not take place within life itself? Does it not express a desperate truth that our days are moving toward death? But is death truly acceptable? Must we submit to it? Peoples in an early stage of development certainly do not perceive it as a self-evident, normal counterpart to life. When it occurs, it is always traced back to a specific cause—namely, an evil spiritual power—even in cases of a life fully lived, an accident, or death in war. Is death a matter of course? If it were, we would have to resign ourselves to it with a sense of ultimate fulfillment, however dearly bought. Yet where does such a death exist? Man’s true stance toward death is one of resistance and protest, arising from the very core of his being. Death is not a matter of course, and any attempt to treat it as such leads to profound melancholy. To romanticize life and death by equating them as poles of existence—as light and darkness, as emergence and decline—is a form of aesthetic thoughtlessness. Yet in one respect, this view is right: our present life and our present dying belong together. They are two sides of one and the same fact. It was precisely this fact that was absent in Jesus.
In Him, there was something that transcended this life and this dying. This did not prevent Him from fully living out our human life—indeed, from that vantage point, He lived it with a purity and depth far beyond our own capacity. Attention has been drawn to how impoverished Jesus’ life was—how meager in terms of substance, events, and encounters. It is said that the things of the world—of the senses and the spirit, power, ...—passed through the life of the Buddha. Through the life of the Buddha, the things of the world passed: the senses and the mind, power, art and wisdom, family and solitude, wealth and then complete renunciation. Above all, he was granted a long life—strangely short, by contrast, was the life of Jesus; meager in content; fragmentary in work and action. Yet the very essence of the Lord's life was sacrifice, the ultimate rejection by the world; thus, his life could not be rich. But what he experienced, every gesture of existence, every action and every encounter, he perceived with a depth and power that surpasses all multitude and diversity. When he met the fisherman and the beggar and the centurion, there was more in it than when the Buddha came to know everything that human life entails… Jesus truly lived our human life. And he experienced our dying. He truly died; and its horrors were all the more terrible because his life was more tender and stronger. Yet with him, everything was different from ours.
What actually constitutes the essence of human life? Of course, the human soul cannot die like the body; since it is spirit and therefore indestructible, it cannot decay. But the immortality of which Scripture speaks does not come from the soul itself, but from God. The body receives its life from the soul and is thus distinguished from the ox and the donkey. The essence of the human body consists in the fact that its life flows from the soul like a bow of flame. But the life of the soul, of which Revelation speaks, comes from God, in that bow of flame which is called "grace." Yet not only the spirit, but also the body participates in this life. The whole believing person, body and soul, lives from God. This is true, holy immortality… God mysteriously formed the life of man. His center of being is to ascend, as it were, into God and bring his life down from Him. Man is to live from above, not from below upward. Animals live from below upward. The human body, however, is meant to live from the spiritual soul, and the soul from God, and through it the whole person. But it was precisely this wholeness of life that sin shattered. It was the will to live independently, autonomously, "like God" (Genesis 3:5). Then the arc of flame was extinguished. Everything collapsed in on itself. The spiritual soul was still there; it could not cease to exist, since it could not be destroyed. But it was a ghostly indestructibility: that of a desperate need. The body, too, was still there, for the soul resided within it. But the "dead" soul, which could no longer give the life that God had intended for humankind, was now gone. Thus, life became both real and unreal at the same time, order and chaos, existence and decay.
This is precisely what is different in Jesus Christ. In Him, the arc of flame is divinely pure and powerful. In Him, it is called not merely ‘Grace’, but ‘the Holy Spirit’. His human nature draws its life from God in the fullness of the Holy Spirit. Through the Spirit He came into being, and His life is lived out in the fullness of this Spirit. Not merely as that of a God-loving human being, but as One who is both human and divine at the same time. Moreover: just as Christ, a human being can only be one who does not merely ‘adhere’ to God, but ‘is’ God. His humanity is alive in a different way to that of us humans. The arc of flame between the Son of God and the human being Jesus – though it is only our feeble intellect that speaks of an ‘in-between’, where there was an interpenetration of which we have no concept of its intimacy – this glowing essence is that very thing of which we spoke. It lies behind his life and death. It is from this that Jesus lives our human life and dies our human death, more profoundly than we could ever manage, and thereby transforming both. It is from this that our life and our death, too, are transformed. From there begins a new possibility of living and dying.
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W A R ON THIS BEAUTIFUL EARTH
Merciful God of peace,We come to you speechless and powerless.
We observe the brutal business of war, increasing aggression and threats.
All mediations seem to be unsuccessful, the fear of destruction and suffering is rampant.
In this situation we ask you for a new spirit for peace and reconciliation,
for insight and conversion of hearts.
With your help it won't be too late, to enable decisions which prevent destruction and misery.
In the name of all those who directly are affected, threatened and involved, we long for the miracle of peace - for Ukraine, Russia and all of Europe.
You God of life, comfort and love, we trust in your goodness and providence. Amen.
Prayer by Bishop H. Glettler, February 23, 2022
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War
You most horrible act of man,
you misdeed On both sides, rob the father his son,
believe to defend the fatherland.
You kill mothers' sons, you murder women's husbands,
snatch the fathers from the children.
Separate lovers forever, who had just found each other.
You take away from friends their friends,
trample in minutes, what Created over the centuries
and built, that Generations guarded.
Divide the happiness of the individual
in order to to dismember her body.
Lets veterans survive, and mutilated back in body and soul,
lest they curse you.
Leaves only rubble and heaps,
Cripples vegetating in abject poverty,
and you always emerge new, like you're making a promise.
You are the worst of crimes.
Erhard Blanck
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David and Goliath
The Philistines gathered their armies together for battle and came together to Socho in Judah and camped between Socho and Azekah at Ephesdamim. But Saul and the men of Israel came together and camped in the pit and prepared themselves to fight against the Philistines. And the Philistines stood on a mountain on the other side, and the Israelites on a mountain on this side, with a valley between them. Then out of the camp of the Philistines came a giant named Goliath of Gath, six cubits and a hand's breadth high; and he had a helmet of brass upon his head, and a coat of armor of scales, and the weight of his breastplate was five thousand shekels of brass, and he had breastplates of brass upon his thighs, and a shield of brass upon his shoulders.
And the shaft of his spear was like a weaver's beam, and the iron of his spear was six hundred shekels of iron; and his shield-bearer went before him. And he stood and called to the host of Israel, and said to them, Why did you go out to prepare yourselves for battle? Am I not a Philistine and you Saul's servants? Choose one of you to come down to me.
If he is able to fight against me and strike me, then we will be your servants; But if I have power against him and smite him, then you shall be our servants to serve us. And the Philistine said, I have defied the host of Israel this day: Give me one, and let us fight together. When Saul and all Israel heard this saying of the Philistine, they were astonished and afraid...
Then David rose up early in the morning, and left the sheep to the keeper, and carried and went, as Jesse had commanded him, and came to the chariot. And the army went out and prepared themselves, and they shouted in battle... Behold, a giant named Goliath, the Philistine of Gath, came up from the Philistine army and spoke, and David heard it. But every man in Israel, when he saw the man, fled from him, and was sore afraid.... Then David said to the men who stood with him, What will they do to him who strikes this Philistine? and turns away the shame of Israel? For who is the Philistine, this uncircumcised man, who defies the army of the living God? ........
But Saul said to David, You cannot go against this Philistine to fight with him; for you are a boy, but this man has been a man of war from his youth ............
And David said, The LORD who delivered me from the lion and the bear will also deliver me from this Philistine... and he took his staff in his hand and chose five smooth stones from the stream and did put them in the shepherd's bag that he had and in the sack and took the sling in his hand and went to the Philistine ...........
Now when the Philistine saw and looked upon David, he despised him; for he was a boy, brownish and beautiful. And the Philistine said to David, Am I a dog that you come to me with sticks? And he cursed David by his God, and said to David, Come unto me, and I will give thy flesh to the birds of the air, and to the beasts of the field. But David said to the Philistine, “You come to me with a sword, a spear, and a shield; But I come to you in the name of the LORD of hosts, the God of the hosts of Israel, whom you have insulted... Now when the Philistine arose and came near to David, David hastened and ran toward the army to meet the Philistine.
And David put his hand in his pocket, and took a stone from it, and hurled it, and struck the Philistine in his forehead, and the stone pierced his forehead, and he fell to the ground on his face. So David overcame the Philistine with the sling and with the stone and struck him and killed him. And since David had no sword in his hand, he ran and went to the Philistine, and taking his sword, drew it out of its sheath, and killed him, and cut off his head with it. But when the Philistines saw that their strongest man was dead, they fled. 1 Samuel - Chapter 17
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Two men will work in the field; one is accepted and the other is left behind. Two women will grind grain; one is accepted, the other is left behind.
Matthew 24:40-41
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Then they will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.
Wed 4.3
They no longer raise the sword, nation against nation, and they no longer learn war.
Isaiah 2:4
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Life & Love are serious, and they smile "wearily" at our every joke.Life & Love know our hearts - we don't know their pain at our erring ways, their patient waiting for our slow maturing - which then, without favour*, embraces life full of love.Death and its hate seem to counsel, but they seriously want our denial.
But so is GOD: His LOVE keeps this world together
His LOVE keeps this world going
His LOVE keeps this world under protection
His LOVE keeps your life going too,
so LOVE you too, as His beloved.
Love & life are serious; they urge - you can & you shall end-dispose ...
* you err and deceive yourself, seducing yourself ...
+ # + # +
We are currently threatened by more trouble than climate change 20 active wars globally!
But wars are also one of the consequences of a general distance from God.
The World Assembly of Christians prayed this in Seoul in 1990: "I believe in God, who is love and who has given the earth to all people. I do not believe in the right of the strongest, in the strength of arms, in the power of oppression. I believe in Jesus Christ, who came to heal us and who frees us from deadly addictions. I do not believe that wars are inevitable, that peace is unattainable. I believe in the communion of saints, the Church, which is called to be at the service of all people. I do not believe that suffering must be in vain, that God has willed the destruction of the earth. I believe that God wants an order for the earth that is based on justice and love, and that all men and women are equal human beings. I believe in God's promise of a new heaven and a new earth where justice and peace kiss. I believe in love with open hands, in peace on earth. Amen."
Also read the bestseller: "Peace is STILL possible" by environmental journalist Franz Alt.
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Dr. Heribert Prantl writes about the Jewish/Christian God in his bestseller DEN FRIEDEN GEWINNEN in 2024. He looks at the myths of the creation of the world, of paradise, of the first humans, of the Flood: ... the biblical canon, as a significant, normative past that does not pass away. They are “real” in the literal sense of the word, they continue to have an effect, they are our prehistory on our very own questions of being human and the origin of our humanity as it is. It is a world full of violence that demands interpretation and orientation. It tells us that Cain, the first child of the first human couple created by God, is a murderer. The myth enters into the most disturbing historical reality: man kills his brother. The brutal bluntness of the narrative poses this question of meaning in Gen 4:1-16 of “holy scripture”; what if it were silent about such realities? ... The Cain and Abel story reveals one of the causes of violence:
Inequality and power imbalance among people. Cain, the fratricide, is the prototype of the man who is consumed by his anger out of perceived lost honor. Just like in life: One has a mother who loves him, the other a father who hates him. One gets a clever head, the other a weak heart. Fate gives one and not the other. Why him and not me? Everyone has to come to terms with it at some point. God speaks to Cain: Why are your features slipping? Cain's offended narcissism has opened the door to sin. “Your brother's blood cries aloud to me.” With a protective mark of Cain, he now wanders restlessly through the world. He imposes the curse of his evil deed on himself. However, as the founder of a city with amenities, culture, progress, technology, etc., these also contain the “being bought” associated with violence.
In the Flood narrative, on the other hand, God shows himself to be a brutal murderer of his entire world. In his fervent zeal, he not only kills the man, but also the mouse. The flood myth also exists in similar versions in other ancient religions. However, the Old Testament connects the force of nature with the unjust actions of man. One can, one must be horrified by this God who behaves like a fundamentalist mass murderer who wants the world to be good and pure. But then God says: “Never again!” The same ability to compromise is now written into our hearts. ... These cruel texts in the OT are therefore not innocent. They are disturbing and therefore not immune to criticism - on the contrary - it must be in the interest of Christians to subject them to critical examination. Gen 9, 1-13
God blessed Noah and his sons and said to them: “Be fruitful, multiply and populate the earth.
Fear and dread of you shall be upon all the beasts of the earth, upon all the birds of the air, upon everything that moves on the earth and upon all the fish of the sea; they have been given over to you.
Every living thing that moves shall be your food. I give you everything like the green plants.
Only flesh in which there is still blood you may not eat.
But when your blood is shed, I will demand an account for the blood of each one of you. I demand an account from every animal and from man. For the life of man I demand an account from each of his brothers.
Whoever sheds the blood of man, his blood will be shed by man. For he made man in the image of God.
Be fruitful and multiply; populate the earth and multiply in it.
Then God spoke to Noah and his sons who were with him:
I hereby make my covenant with you and with your descendants
and with all living creatures with you, with the birds, the cattle and all the beasts of the field, with all the animals of the earth that came out of the ark with you.
I have made my covenant with you: Never again shall all creatures of flesh be cut off by the waters of the flood; never again shall a flood come and destroy the earth.
And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I am making between me and you and the living creatures.
Prantl goes on to draw a number of parallels in the context of our older and more recent history. His examination of violence and non-violence in armed conflict also takes as an example the taking of Jericho: Many wars of God in the Old Testament have a sacred character; here it has all the ingredients of a fantasy thriller: a fortress, spies by night, a harlot with whom they hide, a lot of noise and, above all, it is about good versus evil. With trumpets, led by the priests, Israel marches around the city wall seven times. Then the people let out a mighty shout of joy and the walls collapse.
The fortress of Jericho stands for the almost invincible, aggressive great powers that threaten the land. The narrative of victory over them is an anti-despair narrative that sets the victims of violence and bloodshed against the experienced reality.
The Old Testament scholar Jürgen Ebach has this to say about the “law of war” formulated in Genesis 5.20: “Well, there would be no more effective means of actually preventing real wars than if this instruction were adhered to. Then all potential soldiers who still have a wife to marry, a child to father, a house to build or who are simply afraid would be allowed to stay at home. Then there would be no need for highly armed troops at all. After all, if God himself is fighting, the left-handers are enough, or you could take an enemy city with a music corps - the walls would fall down from the sound of the trumpet. In short: these instructions are just not for a real war ... I found Prantl's book: CHILDHOOD - first home - not only very appealing. Faith and religion were and are both warmongers and a force for peace. The one should be tamed and the other must be encouraged.
