Dave Barnhart's Blog

As Jesus is being led to his death, he shouts a warning to the crowd: “If this is what [the Romans] do when the wood is green, what will they do when the wood is dry?” (Luke 23:31) 

Dry wood is kindling: a firebrand. It is a word we use to describe a violent revolutionary. Luke was writing his gospel just a few years after the Romans put down a Jewish revolution. According to Josephus, when the Romans exacted their revenge, they crucified so many people that they actually ran out of wood. They cut down every tree for miles around Jerusalem.

This is one of the most poignant moments in the gospels, for me, because it sounds like Jesus, having failed to make the case for moral pacifism, makes a plea to the crowd for strategic nonviolence: “Use my death as an example; If you can’t choose nonviolence because you love your enemy, choose it because you love yourselves.” 

I don’t think there’s much doubt that Jesus was a moral pacifist, and the early Christians certainly interpreted him that way. After all, we’ve got the Sermon on the Mount, when Jesus asks his followers to “pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:43-48). We’ve got Paul’s letter to the Romans, when he tells his readers to “repay evil with good” (Romans 12:17-21). We’ve got the parable of the Good Samaritan, when Jesus makes the listeners’ most hated enemy into an example of God-like compassion and says, “go and do likewise” (Luke 10:25-37). Early Christian communities forbade their members to take up weapons. 

Moral pacifism is not naive. It is grounded in our collective liberation and the power of nonviolence. Nelson Mandela, who certainly witnessed his share of violence and coercive power, said that his form of nonviolent resistance was about helping to liberate not only the oppressed, but also the oppressor (Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom, 1994.) It is difficult to use violence even against your enemies if you believe, like the Jewish sages, that whoever kills a person destroys a world. Extinguishing a sentient life diminishes us all. 

But Jesus’s warning about dry wood is a much more practical reason for nonviolence. A cross was not just a convenient execution method: it was a billboard. It advertised Rome’s monopoly on violence. Jesus was saying, “I came preaching forgiveness and nonviolence, and this is what they do to me; what do you think they will do to those of you calling for violence?”

Dr. Desmonda Lawrence explains one of the reasons for strategic nonviolence this way: 

“Maintaining nonviolent discipline is necessary against a state that has a well-developed arsenal. The state has a monopoly on violence: a group of citizens taking up arms against a regime is usually vastly outgunned. But, importantly, armed struggle legitimizes the state’s use of force against the citizens.”

Our American fascist regime has decided to blame recent violence on “radical leftists,” in spite of well-documented research that most of these (white, male) shooters are right wing. They claim that anyone who tells the truth about the brutality of masked ICE agents is at fault for recent shootings. Anyone who stands up for freedom of speech for protesters, or due process for immigrant food truck vendors and grandmothers gets labeled a “radical leftist.” (Meanwhile the Department of Homeland Security regularly posts white supremacist kitsch on social media. They are desperate to find an excuse to unleash the power of their expensive weapons.)

Please understand: strategic nonviolence does not guarantee safety against the brutality of authoritarians. This is what Jesus was yelling out to the crowds: “See what they do when the wood is green?” 

The most important argument for strategic nonviolence is that it is simply more effective than armed resistance. Dr. Erica Chenowith studied the difference between violent and nonviolent protests and their effect on authoritarian regimes: 

“Countries where resistance campaigns were nonviolent were 10 times as likely to transition to democracy compared to countries where resistance turned violent—regardless of whether the campaign succeeded or failed in the short term. Even when nonviolent campaigns were not immediately successful, Chenoweth and Stephan found, they still tended to empower moderates or reformers within the ruling elites who would gradually initiate changes.”

While I do believe, in a spiritual sense, that any violence I do to you I also do to myself and to Christ, I recognize this is not an insight that is easy to convey to those who already see me as an enemy. North American Christianity has denied the nonviolence of Christ for centuries, and instead embraced and further developed the religious violence of medieval and settler-colonial Europe. Strategic nonviolence is not about winning the hearts and minds of white supremacists and authoritarians. They have already been baptized into violence, washed in the blood of their enemies.

But even strategic nonviolence requires a spiritual commitment. The choice to refrain from violence, to override the fight-or-flight response of my amygdala, is one that I have to choose to strengthen daily if I want to be able to “maintain nonviolent discipline,” as Dr. Lawrence says. Without prayer and meditation, without practicing restraint when I am angry, I cannot restrain my own violence. 

And if I cannot restrain my own violence, how can I expect to change the violence of the world? And if I cannot restrain my own violence, how can I expect someone with much less self-knowledge, insight, or self-control to do so? 

When I read Jesus’s words in Luke, I can hear the desperation in his voice: “Look, people. Look and do not turn your eyes away. This is what they do even when we are nonviolent. If you won’t choose the path of nonviolence for spiritual reasons, choose it for your survival.”

Jesus showed us a world
where disabled people aren’t ignored
and don’t have to beg for sustenance; (Mark 10:46-52)
where sick people don’t have to wait in line for
days or years or for luck to be cured; (Mark 5:25-34, Luke 13:10-17, John 5:2-9)
where people tormented by their demons are freed; (Mark 5:1-13)
where foreigners aren’t treated like animals; (Mark 7:24-30)
where all you do to earn the right to a full belly
is to show up hungry; (Matthew 14:13-21)
where women do not have to depend
on the whims and moods of men for their rights; (Matthew 19:1-11)
where people live for the present moment
instead of destroying the earth to accumulate more; (Matthew 6:19-34)
where we invest in peace instead of weapons; (Matthew 26:52, Luke 19:41-42)
where being poor and hopeless will be a thing of the past. (​Luke 6:20-21)

The oligarchs didn’t like that.
They preferred a world where the disabled,
the sick, the tormented,
the poor, the hungry,
women and foreigners
were beggars, prisoners, and slaves.
Where they could continue merrily destroying the earth.
They didn’t like that he told us we could live without money,
that we could feed everyone who was hungry, or
that he’d set free those the oligarchs had unjustly imprisoned,
deported,
maimed and murdered.

They especially did not like the fact
that on Palm Sunday,
his followers had shown up in peaceful protest,
saying they would follow a new king.

So they took those healing hands
and nailed them still;
they hoisted him up like a signpost and warning
that we should forget such foolishness;
they stilled his voice,
and his followers—except for a few women—fled.
And then, worst of all,
they took his name,
and turned it into a brand,
and used it to sell guns and build prisons.

But the healing,
and the teaching,
and the resurrection,
belong to everyone who desires the world he showed us.

So if you hunger and thirst for justice and righteousness,
please know that all you have to do,
is show up hungry.

If you are looking for my daily devotionals, you can find them at this website hosted by Beehiiv. Though I will continue to blog here, I’ve found it easier to maintain a daily schedule with an email list there. I hope you’ll join me for reflections on important dates and my own favorite saints!

This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24)

Dear Saints,

It feels like the world is falling apart at the seams. Everything is horrible. The oligarchy is upon us and will hamper even our weak attempts to prevent a sixth mass extinction on the planet. Liars and narcissists rule our nation. We are in apocalyptic times, where the word means both “ending” and “unveiling.” We may wish things would have remain veiled.

In my ordination vows, I promised I would do my best to “equip the saints for ministry.” I intend to keep doing that. Four years ago as I wrote liturgy for Saint Junia house churches, I began looking to my faith tradition, 2000 years of church history, and the writings of activists, reformers, and those seeking peace with justice from many different traditions. I’ve contemplated how to best support my community and “equip the saints” while ecosystems collapse, fascism rises, the church equivocates, and the internet becomes an AI propaganda tool for the worst humans on the planet.

I believe that the communion of saints who have gone before us teaches us everything we need to know.

I am beginning a series of daily devotionals. They will generally reference a person or an event from this day in history and a short reflection. I am using the widest possible definition of “saint,” much the way William James uses the term: a spiritual person who inspires us to be more like them. This is a practice of virtue ethics and character formation, to ask the question: “What kind of person do I want to be? What kind of life do I aspire to live?” These questions redirect our attention from what we cannot control to what we can, and they move us from fear and anxiety about the future to gratitude for the present.

My grandfather, Loren Barnhart, survived World War 2, and would quote Psalm 118 every day when he woke up: “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” My Grandma Gennie said it could be irritating to hear this verse day after day, especially when it was rainy and cold. But the psalmist, like Papa, had survived a war. They knew every day was a gift. Years after he died, while she lived with my parents, Grandma would sing the verse, also. And yes, it was irritating.

But it is also true.

Saints, I offer you the saints. May they help you live these days.

Today is the feast day, in Eastern and Roman Catholic traditions, of Gregory of Nyssa, who died in 394. Among many other gems, he said this:|

“Moses’ vision of God began with light; afterwards God spoke to him in a cloud. But when Moses rose higher and became more perfect, he saw God in the darkness.”

After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in the territory of Judea during the rule of King Herod, magi came from the east to Jerusalem. They asked, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We’ve seen his star in the east, and we’ve come to honor him.” (Matthew 2:1-2)

Epiphany, as i said last week, means a manifestation of the Divine. The gospels are very interested in who recognizes Jesus and who does not: pagan astrologers recognize him. The political and religious power structures do not.

I’ve been exploring consciousness over this Advent and Christmas season because I believe noticing and recognizing the Divine has to do with a shift in our consciousness, a willingness to question our perceptions, our automatic reactions, and our personal and cultural narratives. Becoming more conscious of our own consciousness allows us to change how we relate to our selves and to other people. Many of these concepts are ones I’m borrowing from both Buddhist teachings and from Acceptance and Commitment Therapy.

This expanded awareness is not just about navel-gazing. It’s about cultivating an inner and outer peace that changes relationships and how we approach the world. It is 3000 year-old wisdom that modern neuroscience is validating with empirical research.

I’ve appreciated learning more about the friendship of Thomas Merton and Thich Nhat Hanh, monks from the Roman Catholic and Buddhist traditions who found that their faith traditions were more complementary than competitive. Both mystical traditions (I would argue most mystical traditions) speak about self knowledge and divine knowledge as being intimately tied to each other. As we learn more about our own consciousness, we learn more about the infinite and about God. As we learn more about God and the infinite, we learn more about ourselves. The knower and the known, the seeker and the sought, are united in a dynamic dance. We seek God’s face, but God continually directs us to our neighbor’s face—and our own.

The way this manifests in our social world is that often the people who recognize the Divine are not insiders, but outsiders. Hanh and Merton saw each other as spiritual brothers. I, likewise, have found spiritual siblings among Jews, Muslims, Sikhs, Buddhists, Hindus, and agnostics. I believe the great epiphany for us all will be finding ourselves in the same stable, kneeling in front of the same manger, and the child we recognize there in the hay will look remarkably like our selves.

Prayer: Lord Jesus Christ, may we grow into your fullness, so that you may be all in all. Amen.

“Be happy with those who are happy, and cry with those who are crying..” (Romans 12:18)

I’ve shared a bit about game theory and the research of John Gottman because I think it is insightful and helpful research into the ways we individuals act as part of larger social systems. One of the key insights into Gottman’s research on couples is about co-regulation.

We can see co-regulation illustrated by a study of sixteen married women who were put into an fMRI machine while electric shocks were applied to their feet. Researchers knew that holding someone’s hand could reduce the pain and fear of the electric shock, so they created these experimental conditions: holding an anonymous person’s hand, their husbands hand, or no hand at all. The women had also filled out assessments of their marital happiness.

When the women held the hand of a partner with whom they had a good relationship, the electric shocks created less pain and fear responses in their brains. The touch of a loved one helped them regulate their own response to the stimulus. But if they had a negative relationship with their spouse, holding their hand provided less comfort than the hand of a stranger!

At a physiological level, good relationships help us co-regulate our negative emotions and experiences.

Gottman’s training for couples involves helping them simultaneously manage their own and their partner’s emotions. This skill doesn’t just apply to couples, but to parents and children, co-workers, neighbors, and even strangers. We humans have a unique ability to be able to spread peace and self-awareness.

I’ve been speaking about becoming consciousness as a way to create more awareness in ourselves of our own experience, more room for self-determination, more capacity for trust and forgiveness. But becoming conscious of the working of our own minds also helps our relationships become more life-giving and supportive.

Prayer: Source of Life and Relationship, thank you for the people in our lives. Help us to bring out the best in each other. Amen.

“Forgive us for the ways we have wronged you, just as we also forgive those who have wronged us.” (Matthew 6:12)

Yesterday I mentioned an important idea in game theory: the Prisoner’s Dilemma, in which each player has to choose whether to cooperate or betray the other. Several research studies have used the Prisoner’s Dilemma to explore how people actually approach relationships, and what happens over time when people play multiple rounds with other people.

How do you treat someone who has betrayed you? Do you let yourself be a doormat and trust someone who has shown they are untrustworthy?

It turns out there is an optimal strategy for playing the game over multiple rounds. If the other player betrays you in round one, you betray them in round two. But if they don’t betray you in round two, you return to cooperation. This strategy is called “tit for tat, with forgiveness.” Players who use this strategy, on average, will do better than players who try to play aggressively without forgiveness.

(There’s also a lot of fascinating research on our need to punish perceived rule-breaking behavior, even if it costs us personally—but I’ll have to save that writing for another day).  

I find this research fascinating because it shows that forgiveness is not just some high-minded spiritual virtue; it is necessary for species survival. Anthropologists theorize that this kind of pro-social behavior helped our ancestors thrive. Humans that couldn’t let things go just… didn’t survive.

This conclusion runs counter to a lot of our popular opinions about human nature and evolution, that violence and domination led to “survival of the fittest.” Increasingly researchers believe that the communities who were most “fit” to survive were those that cooperated and those where forgiveness became a virtue.

When I talk about forgiveness, of course, I have to acknowledge that forgiveness has been weaponized to keep people in abusive relationships, and it has been unevenly deployed. The oppressed are often expected to forgive their oppressors.

But I would also point out that this tension highlights exactly what the game theory points out: forgiveness alone is a really lousy survival strategy, and it does not maximize the rewards for all players involved. Inasmuch as forgiveness helps us return to an even playing field, and inasmuch as it helps us restore right relationships, it is a virtue.

Becoming conscious allows us not only space to acknowledge and process our anger, but to evaluate the pros and cons of forgiveness. It helps us behave in a way that brings flourishing to larger groups of people.

Prayer: God, you forgave us before we even knew to ask. Help us extend that same grace in ways that bring flourishing to the world.

“Glory to God in heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.” (Luke 2:14)

In game theory, there’s a classic illustration called “The Prisoner’s Dilemma.” Two thieves are arrested and each partner winds up with two options: confess and rat out your partner, in which case you’ll go to prison for one year and your partner will go to prison for eight years; or cooperate (stay silent) and you both will get two years in prison. But if you both choose to betray the other, you will both go to prison for five years. While you’re considering your options, you know that your partner has the same choice to make.

How much do you trust your partner? Which choice do you make?

There are different permutations of this problem that change it substantially. What happens if you play several “rounds” in a row? If your partner betrayed you last time, do you betray them this time? Do you choose a cooperative strategy or a competitive one?

Mathematicians, psychologists, and political scientists have been studying game theory since the 1940’s. Research into game theory became much more intense during the Cold War, when the threat of nuclear Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD) by the world’s superpowers made such “games” a matter of policy and of life and death. Several game theorists came to the conclusion—and argued to American politicians—that it would be best to preemptively launch nuclear weapons at the Soviet Union.

Mathematician John Nash (the subject of the movie A Beautiful Mind) had a different perspective: goals could be maximized if nations cooperated instead of betraying each other. Thank God policy makers listened and learned about the “Nash Equilibrium” rather than listening to the war hawks!

One of my favorite psychologists, John Gottman, talks about game theory in relation to marriages and family relationships. He explored how spouses engage in strategic choices about such “games” in everything from domestic chores, to financial decisions, to sex. Are the partners cooperating for the best outcome for everyone, or are they competing to minimize their own losses? These games get more complex as we consider games played by larger groups over longer times: families, congregations, or political factions.

Why am I talking about game theory during the Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany season? Because I believe that if “Peace on Earth” is to mean anything beyond warm fuzzy feelings and religious platitudes, we have to become conscious of a) our own consciousness and b) the social systems of which we are a part. Being at peace in yourself, or with others, means asking questions like “what am I willing to risk? Who do I trust? Who am I looking out for, and whose interests and values do I prioritize in this situation?”

Let’s be honest: trust is at a minimum these days. I have a hard time trusting institutions or human individuals, and I certainly don’t trust large groups of people to do the right thing. Yet game theory teaches us important things about how to behave when trust is low.

Becoming conscious—of my unreliable perceptions, my automatic responses, and my beliefs—helps me approach questions about relationships and trust more deliberately. If the world is to have peace, it must also work on trust!

Prayer: God, save us from using cynicism to protect ourselves from disappointment. Put trustworthy people in our lives, and help us act for the benefit of all. Amen.

About that time, Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and John baptized him in the Jordan River. While he was coming up out of the water, Jesus saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. And there was a voice from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness.” (Mark 1:9-11)

Before Christ, “epiphany” meant the manifestation of a god—a showing or an appearance. One arrogant Emperor who lived two centuries before Christ adopted the title “Epiphanes” because he wanted to be worshiped as a god (and he went on to spark a Jewish revolution which is described in the books of Maccabees). The root “phan” is related to light—a light coming into the world.

Christians used the word Epiphany to describe Jesus being revealed to the world, first when the Magi visited him, and then later when he was baptized by John in the Jordan river. (Sometimes we also use the word “theophany”). We celebrate Epiphany on January 6. The twelve days between Christmas and Epiphany are “The Twelve Days of Christmas” (like the song).

Today we say someone “has an epiphany” if they have an insight or a sudden realization. It can mean enlightenment.

I’ve been writing about consciousness during Advent and Christmas because we are on the way to Epiphany. I believe the whole season is an invitation to us, in the darkest part of the year, to have our own epiphany or enlightenment. We have the opportunity to realize something important about ourselves and the world in the story of Christ’s incarnation.

It is impossible to encounter the Living God without a radical reassessment of the self. Ancient people were wise to fear looking at the face of God, who wrapped God’s self in darkness and thick cloud to protect mortal eyes from seeing. One glance at God’s face and you would be unmade. It was too beautiful and terrible to behold. (Just ask Indiana Jones!)

But the God encountered in Jesus was viewable. Here was a face of God that we could put eyes on. But still, encountering Jesus caused people to be radically changed. They could no longer be the same people they had been before. The epiphany we encounter in Christ is like the scripture above: the sky splits open, and a winged creature descends with a message that you are, in fact, a beloved part of a divine family.

I believe we have a built-in need for this kind of epiphany encounter, a radical reset in our lives. The self gets too wrapped up in its own story, believing that its perceptions are accurate, trusting too much in its unconscious reactions and learned habits, buying into the story it tells itself about the world.

When we learn how much of our lives are unconscious, it becomes clear that consciousness takes effort. The more I understand how little I understand, the more space I have to choose to see differently, to react more thoughtfully, to tell a different story than the one my internal critic or my culture are telling me.

In this week preceding epiphany, I’m going to widen the lens to talk about what the extra space consciousness gives us.

Prayer: God, I am your beloved child. Wake me up to all that means. Amen.