Review: Christians and the Common Good

Our founding fathers established a constitutional provision regarding the practices of religion and government in our country, effectively, in the first amendment, providing for a separation between church and state. But as Christians, don't we have an obligation to live out our faith, not just in our individual lives and corporately as church, but also in the way we govern? If we are truly government of, by and for the people, then shouldn't government reflect the common faith that we purportedly share (about 75% according to some polls claim either belief in Christ or in God)? But this can be a slippery slope - we are a nation that celebrates freedom of religion and recognizes itself to have a pluralism in the larger faith community, celebrating a diversity of religious beliefs as part of our culture and heritage. Our founding fathers also recognized the danger in a particular faith or specifically, faith tradition, exercising too much influence on the government, or even becoming the government. The Puritans, the Pilgrims, Quakers, and Catholics, to name a few, all left England for the New World to escape the dominance of the Church of England, culturally, religiously, and politically. So how can we, as Christians, then exercise both our faith and our good citizenship? This is the topic that Chuck Gutenson explores in his book, Christians and the Common Good: How Faith Intersects with Public Life.

A brief disclaimer is in order before I proceed, however. Dr. Gutenson was one of my seminary professors, and I confess that he was, and remains, one of my favorite professors. His classes featured not only wonderful biblical exegesis, but he also brought that exegesis to bear on our modern culture, economics, and politics, pushing us to think about what God had to say to us in the ancient text about our modern world. He challenged us to think and explore, and in this book he continues that tradition that I first encountered from him in seminary so many years ago. Gutenson suggests that we avoid proof-texting the biblical passages (deciding what we believe about a topic and then searching the Bible until we find a text that supports that belief, or reading a short piece of scripture and ignoring the context of the writing to use it to support or affirm a specific policy or theology). Rather, he suggests, we should consider the outcomes that God desires for His creation. Then we should consider how a particular passage and its context contribute the outcome that God is seeking to achieve.

Many of us approach Scripture primarily to find out how God wants us to live, and Scripture becomes primarily about what we are to do. But it is only by grasping God’s character and nature that we begin to discern what God expects of us. In many places in Scripture, we are instructed to be imitators of God. However, if we are to imitate God, we must first know what God is like. Only then can we give serious attention to imitating God. We must approach Scripture realizing that it is the story of God’s interaction with humanity, and this story constitutes the disclosure of God’s nature.

Once we begin to grasp the overall story and to start to discern the nature of God, then we can begin to see what God desires, and yes expects, us to achieve as part of the Kingdom that has come into being in Jesus Christ:

God's expectations mostly relate to outcomes. In other words, we will come to see that God does not so much care whether we have this or that form of public institution. Instead, he is most concerned that certain things are accomplished, for example, that the poor and the marginalized are properly cared for and that the powerful are not left free to exploit the weak.

Gutenson begins his conversation about the Christian's responsibility for the public good by exploring various biblical passages, their context, and what outcomes God is seeking to form. The exegesis is sharp and well defined and Dr. Gutenson challenges his reader to think more deeply into the contexts and history of the texts and then prompts us to see the outcome that God wanted then and still wants from us as His people. He also challenges our common habit of focusing on just a few issues, not only to the exclusion of others, but in effect even ignoring the overall outcome that God desires.

Unfortunately, given the complexities of public life and the wide-ranging expectations God has for us, there is a remarkable degree of temptation to simply ignore issues. If one believes that God is only really concerned with a couple of issues, it becomes easier to ignore others. But human life, particularly our common public life, is just too complicated for this kind of reductionist approach.

Of course this approach leads us to reduce not just our focus, but also our faith,

Quite simply, a major reason for the increasing irrelevance of the church for today’s culture is its inability both to envision and to demand an alternative way of being in the world.

But Gutenson also maintains that we cannot simply rely on the public institutions to accomplish the task of the Kingdom. While government, he says, is ordained by God and can be used to accomplish Kingdom outcomes, we mustn't rely solely on government to accomplish the tasks that have been given to the body of Christ. For governments rely on power to function and hierarchy to manage, but the Kingdom is founded on sacrificial love. What Dr. Gutenson refers to as "a firm commitment to the common good" requires a balanced approach between government and and Kingdom. It also requires an acknowledgment that we have privatized religion in our culture and that we need to recognize that the public discourse must fundamentally involve our faith. As an adjunct history instructor I commonly suggest to students of early U.S. History that it is not possible to separate the faith traditions from a discussion about the beginnings of our nation. It the same way we must move away from the idea that faith is not part of the discussion around issues such as health care and gay marriage. However, I agree with Gutenson's assertion that rather than promote individual public policies in some of these arenas, we need to consider, as a people of faith, what outcomes God desires for us and seek a balanced approach to achieving the common good.

Let me begin by saying that I am sympathetic to those who say that help for those on the margins ought to come from the church first. However, I have to part company when some take the next step and suggest that such help can only come through the church. While we should be happy to see churches taking on ever increasing roles in the alleviation of the suffering of those in crisis, we simply cannot preclude government from being involved in this work. This is particularly true when churches are simply unable or unwilling to take on the enormous task. Human lives are just too precious and important. Poverty rates are too high for government not to be involved.

The general tendency to either try and mold the government into a biblical role, or to argue against any government involvement in social policy are both to be avoided. Some of our issues are too far ranging and too extensive to be alleviated by the church alone. And again, we must ask ourselves what the role of the Kingdom is in a government of, by, and for the people.

As we have argued throughout, trying to identify the biblical role of government is the wrong place to start. Rather, we must begin our inquiry by trying to discern the general contours of how God intends for us to live together. Of course, the answer to that question is not one that can be answered by appealing to a handful of popular biblical texts. There are numerous reasons why this approach is inadequate and will likely lead us to faulty conclusions. Instead, we must seek to develop an understanding of what would constitute a biblical view of community...

Gutenson avoids offering specific policy suggestions, but offers questions and reflections to begin a larger conversation around the ways to shape public policy to achieve the outcomes that God desires for His people. The book is well written, with very good biblical exegesis that will not weigh down the lay reader, but is in depth enough to hold the attention of the trained theologian. The dots are all connected as he explores the biblical mandates to build a just society and draws the reader into our modern public arena to bring those outcomes into the present. His writing style flows smoothly and continues to draw us forward from biblical foundations to modern politics and policy making and finally to considerations about specific challenges that currently lay before us as a nation and as the people of Jesus Christ.

Now its us up to us. Like Elisha before us, we are challenged to take up the mantle of the prophet and seek to find ways to dialogue around faith and public policy to create the outcomes that God is calling us to create. We are created in the image of God - creators - to make a difference in the world. Gutenson challenges us to take the dialogue to the next level. How will we respond?

Reflecting on Joplin - a year later

As we approach the anniversary of the May 22nd Joplin tornado and remember the devastation and those who were injured and those that died, we are often plagued by the question of why. I think this is a normal human emotion/reaction - we want to understand, we want to find meaning in the massive destruction.

Eugene Peterson in his introduction to the book of Joel in The Message writes that our understandings of God are at risk when disaster strikes - whatever it is. Natural disaster or illness, war or death, violence or a national catastrophe, we tend to cast God in the role of cosmic bad guy - "God is angry" or "God has abandoned us" or "God is judging us" or "God is punishing us for our sins." And while there may be some biblical precedents for these comments, often this is not the case at all. Enter the prophet Joel.

When the locusts attacked the crops of Israel, I suspect that many of them threw some of these same statements around like a blanket over the grieving shoulders of starving people. Sometimes we seem to want to be able to point to the responsibility of the victims, because if we can claim this to be their fault, then we can be certain it won't happen to us. But Joel disputes this idea. The locusts had destroyed major portions of crops creating an agricultural disaster. People were starving. Joel compares the devastation of the locusts to an invading army destroying everything in its path. The job of a prophet is to proclaim a Word from God. It is to turn people to God in the midst of such disasters. It is to point people to the presence of God in places where it seems as if God is absent. Joel does this admirably.

I would remind us that Joel speaks to us still - reassuring us that natural disasters happen not because of sin or judgment, but because of the natural order. In Romans 1 and 2, Paul goes to great lengths to remind us that God sees no degree to sin - no distinction in sin. All of the many 'sins' he lists in the 1st chapter of Romans are, he says, symptoms of the ONE sin which is a failure to honor God. All of us fall short in this regard and despite our best efforts to the contrary we continue to do so even as followers of Jesus. So if there is no degree to sin, why then would God punish some and not others? Why would a loving God choose to express anger through destruction that would devastate the saints along with the supposed sinners?

No, Joel reminds his people, and us as well, that we live in a world where natural cycles create disaster. Summer heating creates hurricanes over the ocean and thunderstorms on land. The clash of pressure zones creates thunderheads that can spawn tornadoes. Snow falls and blows, insects swarm, rains flood, and despite all the advances we have made scientifically we are still unable to stop or control these things.

But they are not a reflection of our sins or God's judgment.

Rather, I echo Joel in suggesting that the way we respond to these is important. In the midst of the disasters, how do we see God and how do we embrace each other? A crisis can devastate us, or, it can move us to a deeper faith commitment and draw us closer as a community. This is what I saw in Joplin - people who lifted each other up, who embraced each other, and who reached out in the name of the Trinitarian God to help each other. I saw people who found encounters with the divine presence in the midst of the rubble of ruined lives. I saw a community grow closer to God and to one another. I saw brothers and sisters from across the country pour in to bring whatever aid they could offer. I saw the face of Jesus in literally hundreds of thousands of people helping each other through the devastation and the crisis.

I continue to see that everyday in Joplin as we rebuild together. Like Joel, what I saw in Joplin was not an angry, judgmental God who was striking down saints and sinners alike. I saw a God who reached out in love and compassion to surround a broken community in the divine spark of love.

Interpretation: Jacob-wrestling God

When I was doing my undergrad work, I had a fellow student in one of my religion classes who was a purported Biblical literalist (purported because, in my opinion, no one truly reads the Bible literally, we pick and choose what texts we want to use literally and which we don't - but that's a topic for another day). He struggled through much of the semester because the instructor was not a literalist. Additionally, he struggled with the fact that she was female and an ordained minister (see 1 Timothy 2:11-15 for his dilemma). I began a discussion with him, that was extracurricular to class, regarding the role of women and the probable interpretive influences on some of the language, as we looked specifically at Romans 16:1 where Phoebe is declared to be a 'diakonon' (in Greek) in the church. The KJV (and the NIV still) translates this as servant or slave, where in other places when used for males it is translated "minister." Now the word is, at times, translated servant or servants, but when used as an adjective for a man, it is translated minister. So why, when used as an adjective for a woman, is it translated "servant"? My point for him, was that this was an interpretive choice. Someone chose how to interpret this word "diakonon" which has multiple interpretations into English, including, yes, servant, but also deacon, minister, and administrator. Why is Phoebe a servant, while Paul and Apollos in 1 Corinthians are ministers when described with the same word? It is an interpretive overlay based on the bias of the interpreters.

In his recent blog, my e-friend Christian Piatt, writes about the blow back being created by the new bible translation called "The Voice" because the interpreters have chosen not to use the word, 'Christ' but instead to translate the Greek word as "the Anointed One" - a perfectly acceptable interpretation of the Greek text. This is an interpretive choice made by the person or persons who are creating the translation; the word in Greek, Christos, can be interpreted as Christ or Messiah, or as Anointed One.

Several years ago, the newest translation receiving attention was "The Message." It was from Eugene Peterson, a minister for many years, as well as a linguist and a seminary instructor. I am a big fan of Peterson's books, of which there are many, and I am constantly impressed by the depth of his faith, the strength of the Spirit's Presence in his life and writing, and by his ability to tease out the meaning and context of so much of the original biblical texts. One of the criticisms from some, as I recall, was his use of the phrase, "Jacob-wrestling God." It is a phrase the speaks to me and it is a reference to Genesis 32 where Jacob wrestles with a "man" who turns out to be the angel of the Lord. Jacob actually wrestles a blessing from the Lord and because he does he receives a new name: "Israel - one who strives with God." So while the term is not one that we see in most mainstream translations there is something to the idea that the God of Israel is Jacob-wrestling God. Additionally it speaks to me in the metaphorical sense that we, too, at times wrestle with God. It is an interpretive overlay that is a choice made by the translator(s).

I remind people in Bible studies and in sermons on a regular basis that we are reading translations and therefore interpretations. The translators made choices and often the choices grew from their own biases. This is not a bad thing, but is simply the way it is. Marcus Borg suggests in the book he co-authored with N.T. Wright, "The Meaning of Jesus," that all of us have a lens that we look through. We cannot remove the lens, we simply need to recognize it is there. Piatt suggests in his blog that the King James Bible translators "had a specific human agenda" and that is true. It does not make the translation invalid, but we need to recognize that it exists. I agree with Piatt's conclusion that even if we read it in the original texts (assuming the Greek, Hebrew and Aramaic are the original texts - many scholars suggest that Matthew, Mark, and Luke used a common source that they dub "Q" - indicating the possibility that there are texts we do not have), we would still be interpreters, by virtue of the fact that we speak English (mostly) and have been raised in a culture that is completely foreign to what their cultures were like.

I again quote Piatt's conclusive thoughts, that for "some, these agendas folks brought (and bring)...are problematic and should be eliminated.... For me, the agendas are, in many ways as important as the word's on the page." I agree. We need, like Jacob, to wrestle with the Divine presence. We need to reject the notion that every answer has already been revealed and laid out in perfect order. The value of the journey lies in the journey and not in the arrival at the destination. Like Jacob, I believe that we receive the blessing when we have to wrestle with God - when we have to wrestle with the text and not just accept a literal reading of an interpreted text.

When we wrestle with the text, we also wrestle with our own agendas that we bring to the text as well. Like Borg, I believe that all of us have a lens we look through and it is important to understand what that lens is - not to simply deny its existence. When we read other translations and interpretations, it can give us opportunity not just to wrestle with God, but to wrestle with our preconceived notions of the text, of God, and of what we understand ourselves to be as followers of the Way. It is my belief that God is big enough to endure our questions, to withstand our challenges, and to wrestle with us as we strive to find our place in the world and in the body of Christ and to understand our relationships to one another and to the Divine.

Like Israel, we should welcome a Jacob -wrestling God and wrestle as well.

Killing Lazarus

Grief is a powerful emotion. If you have ever lost someone close to you, you have some understanding of grief and its power. It is comforting to me, at the times when I feel grief, to know that even Jesus grieved. We are told that when Jesus arrived at Bethany to find that his friend Lazarus had died, he wept. Presumably he wept with grief at the loss of his friend. Most of us know the rest of this story. Jesus resurrects his friend from the dead.

In the twelfth chapter of John we find Jesus back in Bethany as he shares a meal with his friends, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. The other gospels do not name the woman, and we are left to understand that it may in fact be someone different, but in John's gospel it is Mary, the sister of Lazarus who anoints the feet of Jesus with expensive oil. John tells us that Judas objects, but Jesus says that she is preparing him for burial. Many of us are familiar with this story, and there has been much discussion about the oil, the poor, the role of Judas, and so on. I want to consider one other aspect of this story for a moment.

John goes on to tell us that when the people learned that Jesus was there a large crowd gathered "not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well" (John 12:9b-10, NRSV). By killing Lazarus they hoped to erase all record of the miracle that Jesus had performed - to eliminate the evidence. By removing the result, in other words, they hoped to remove the problem.

And how often do we do the same? In our culture, or work, our government and so many other ways, don't we assume that if we can eliminate the symptoms we have cured the problem? By killing Lazarus, effectively eliminating the symptom, the priests thought they could cure the problem. And the result? We don't know that they actually carried out the killing of Lazarus, but I suspect that if they had, the end result would have been the same as it was from killing Jesus, instead of killing the problem, it exacerbated it.

What problems face us daily? What problems face our world? Oppression, racism, poverty, hunger, ignorance, war - we cannot cure these problems by eliminating the evidence of them. We must address the issues that create the problem. Killing Lazarus would not address the problems they were having with Jesus (killing Jesus would not solve the problem either). Too often we, as well, think that by silencing the critics, killing the prophetic voices, and removing those who protest that we can eliminate the problem. If we hide the poor away, kill our enemies, and lock up our social conscience, we can cure the problem. These are not the problem, though. Like Lazarus they serve only to remind us of the realities with which we are faced.

Jesus tells Judas (in John's gospel) that we will always have the poor with us. This is not an excuse to ignore the problem, but like Lazarus was for the chief priests, it is a reminder that we have real problems to address. We cannot cure the issues that face us as a country or a world, by covering over the evidence of problems such as global warning or health care and pretending that we have solved them. When we refuse to fund programs that help people in favor of programs that expand our ability to fight war, we are, in effect, killing Lazarus.

On that Saturday following the crucifixion, I suspect the chief priests probably felt like they had solved their problem by killing Jesus. Were they still plotting to kill Lazarus? And what then, come Easter? As we approach Easter Sunday, the stories of the resurrection of Lazarus and Jesus remind us not just of hope, but of life. Life has problems and living together creates problems. Instead of killing Lazarus and killing Jesus to try to fix our problems, let us recognize at Easter and beyond that we are empowered by the Holy Spirit as the people of the Kingdom of God to find ways together to address our problems. Ignoring, hiding, or burying our issues will not make them go away and temporary fixes will only bring them back later. Killing Lazarus may be the easy way - but it is not the solution. Instead, as God's people in Jesus Christ, let us find ways to work together and to work with others to effect permanent solutions in faith, in hope, and in love. Happy Easter!!

A Moment

After all it's but a moment,
a movement,
a quick and furtive motion.
After all it's just an instant,
a brief word spoken and then silence -
a fleeting touch,
a stolen glimpse, here then gone.
Just a candle blown by the wind with only
smoke to remind us of the burning
flame that was, but is gone.
The beat of butterfly wings,
broken and bleeding in the sun -
a moment -
gone, passed and done.

©Al Gritten, 2012

The Beat of Hope

The death of Davy Jones of the Monkees had a much greater impact on me than Whitney Houston's death, or some of the other losses to the music industry in the last year or two. Perhaps, as I told one friend on Facebook, that is because my age is showing. Certainly that 60's pop sound is what I grew up with, and it has helped shape who I am. The Monkees, the Beatles, the Stones, the Animals, and many others. They sang love songs, yes, but they also sang of social ills and addressed issues that needed to be changed. It could be very dark music, but it also could be light-hearted and even when offering a social critique, it could be upbeat.

Since Jones' death, I have found myself revisiting much of this music that speaks nostalgically of my youth and my formative years. I have dusted off old CD's, LP's (vinyl records for those who do not know the term) and found myself hitting old presets on my radio to visit stations I haven't been to in a while (yes, they call them 'oldies' stations).

And while we were very aware of racism, the Red Scare, nuclear threats, Viet Nam, drugs, and other issues, there is still something to this music that is uplifting. I believe it is hopeful. It speaks of the fact that we can overcome our problems, we can learn to love one another, we can build a better world. It encourages us to dream of what is possible, even when it seems to be patently impossible. It was the rhythm of change and it was set to the beat of hope. It challenged us to dream about possibilities and called on us to envision a better world and a new tomorrow that we could create if we could only all get together. It didn't deny the problems, but in naming the issues, it often suggested that there was hope. I admit that I don't listen to a lot of contemporary music and perhaps it does this as well. But as I look at the landscape of contemporary culture and modern politics, I am not so certain that the message of hope is still present. In fact one political person asked the President in a speech some time ago about how the hopey changey thing was working out.

I was disturbed by that remark. It almost suggested that hope is somehow not part of the process. Unfortunately, in the modern political process that might be true. I listen to the political hopefuls and the incumbents suggest all the things that are wrong and then add all the things that the other party is not doing to fix them. We get a laundry list of the problems and the ills, we get a recounting of the broken promises and broken issues, but I am not hearing positive solutions - I am not hearing hope.

There is a growing presence on the internet that promotes fear - fear of the President, of his politics, his ideology, and of his faith beliefs, and fear of the liberals who align themselves with him. There is fear of the conservatives, of their ideologies, policies and faith beliefs. But where is the hope?

As Christians we are called to be a people of hope. Does that mean we bury our heads in the sand and ignore what's wrong? No, but it does mean we are called to work for hope in a world lost in hopelessness, to work for peace in a world filled with war and violence, and to work for wholeness in a world that is broken by racism, poverty, ignorance, and oppression. We cannot do this by spreading fear and hopelessness. We must recognize that these things are the antithesis of God (reference 1 John 4:18ff). We are called to be agents of love and hope in the name of Jesus Christ.

I continue to be drawn to the music of my youth, not because it avoided the difficult challenges and problems (and today's music may confront them as well), but because even as it identified the issues, it sought to be hopeful. I would welcome a political process that avoided fear and hopelessness and offered ways to embrace positive and hopeful change. I would welcome a political process that stopped drawing lines and picking sides and sought compromises that would promote social change and economic growth and unity. I would welcome a politician who stood up and said, "I don't agree with _________'s agenda, but I see promises of hope in it" instead of one who denigrated the very idea that we can hope, or who opted for repressive social policies that solve economic problems but belittle people.

And I would welcome my brothers and sisters in Christ who would put aside their party loyalties and ideologies long enough to quit spreading fear and embrace our calling to be a people of "faith, hope, and love." No, we don't need to ignore our problems, racism, economic struggles, pollution, greed, violence, and war, and on and on, but we need to work together, as followers of the Way of Jesus, to build compromise, love, and above all, hope. I believe it was Tony Campolo who said, "It's Friday, but Sunday's coming!" As we approach Easter it is time for those of the Way to reclaim it's promise to build hope. Sunday's coming - let's march toward it to the beat of hope.

Super Tuesday and Ash Wednesday

As I listen to media reports and political analysts hype the importance of Super Tuesday amid growing commentary around issues of faith, I am alarmed not only by some of the comments made by candidates, but also by comments made by their constituents and supporters. As a historian and a history instructor, I believe the founding fathers were determined that in this country the state should not be the church and vice-versa. So I am wary when a candidate begins to suggest that there should be no separation between church and state. I think that at best there should be an uneasy alliance of church and state with a constant tension between the two. The notion that any government not headed by Jesus himself can be a government that represents Jesus or his Kingdom (the church) is a misguided notion at best.

Walter Brueggeman writes that the resurrection of Jesus "is the ultimate act of prophetic energizing in which a new history is initiated. It is a new history open to all but peculiarly received by the marginal victims of the old older" (The Prophetic Imagination).

I am forced to reflect: what if the repetitive nature of history isn't so much our failure to learn from it as Santayana suggests, but our unwillingness to embrace a new history initiated in Jesus? What if the repetitive nature of history is really an ongoing struggle between the politics of power and the way of love, between a world driven by force and might and that of the cross that calls us to honor the other? In other words, the history initiated by in Jesus is the history of a new nation that has no boundaries and is a globally spanning, barrier destroying Kingdom of God. It is this clash of the kingdoms of the world who rule by power and the Kingdom of God founded in sacrificial love that is the historic narrative of good vs. evil.

If we embrace this thought and ponder it to its ultimate conclusion we should find ourselves rethinking the idea that we can institute some kind of faith narrative or religious subtext via politics. Inevitably the politicians that claim we can legislate Christian faith in some way are substituting the kingdom of the world for the very Kingdom of God that they are claiming to represent. There is only one way to embrace the Kingdom of our Lord - by a voluntary confession of faith and a baptism into a changed life that lives the Jesus truth, in the Jesus way, following the Jesus life (Eugene Peterson).

Beware those who suggest that the power of Caesar or the politics of Constantine are the path to instituting the Kingdom of God in Jesus Christ. In reality they are both the same path and neither of them leads to the cross or the Christ it represents. They are the wrong path. The Kingdom of God in this world can only be instituted through Jesus acting in each of us to transform us both individually and collectively.

Should we have no concern then for the faith values or morality of those we elect? On the contrary, especially for President, our leaders should reflect the values we want as a nation, but when we insist that a particular viewpoint or theology or faith tradition is necessary or that the government can become the church, we are on dangerous ground, both from the standpoint of civil liberty as well as freedom of religious expression.

In her recent blog post, Rachel Held Evans, writing regarding the outrage and support of Rush Limbaugh, writes "No longer defined by its original ethos—spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ—evangelicalism has been reduced to little more than a voting block, and I get the idea from many of my evangelical friends that so long as a person shares their political convictions, it matters not how they live their life or speak about other people; a person is on the Christian “team” as long as he votes for conservative candidates come election day."

The Kingdom of God that has come in Jesus Christ is a border-less kingdom that welcomes all people. It can never be a voting block, or a political party. There is no government that can represent Jesus, or by extension the church which is his body, that He himself does not head. So if you are voting on Super Tuesday, remember your convictions and your politics. Reflect on who you think the best candidate is, but I encourage us to remember that there must always be tension between church and state. The journey that begins on Ash Wednesday does not lead us to Super Tuesday but to a cross and an empty tomb - the Kingdom of God in Jesus.