Escape from the Spiritual Zombies--May 7, 2020

Escape from the Spiritual Zombies--May 7, 2020

"We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another. Whoever does not love abides in death." [1 John 3:14]

The terrible thing about being a zombie (aside from that whole "eating brains" thing) is that you don't even know you're dead.

I'm no expert on the whole catalog of zombie movies and shows, but I think I get the basic premise. Whether they are "the living dead" like in the George Romero movies, or caused by a supernatural curse, or the result of a <gulp> global pandemic like in 28 Days Later, the gist of being a zombie is that you pretty much lose self-awareness and can only exist to feed the endless hunger for more.  To be a zombie, in the storytelling, is to be not exactly dead... but you're certainly not truly alive, either.  And as both your body and your mind decay, your whole purpose becomes centered only on self-preservation--eating to keep on moving, and moving to feed again, without end.

As I think about it, that's probably the scariest part of zombie movies--it's not so much that you could die if a zombie finally got a hold of you; it's the fear that once they do you in their grip, you become one of them...forever.  That's what keeps you up at night after the movie is over--the fear that you could be reduced to such a terrible, wretched state of being where you can no longer recognize others as anything but food for your unfillable belly, and where you can think of nothing else but your own gnawing hunger.  That sounds like a fate worse than death to me.

And honestly, I think that's the point of stories, shows, and movies like these. They make a point about just how truly awful it is to reduce our lives to an animalistic self-centeredness. They are exaggerations, to be sure, but zombie movies are meant to show us something about ourselves, and about the ways we let ourselves become dead inside.  And a silver-screen zombie is really just a caricature of the life that is lived centered only on itself... only on consumption... only on looking out for "me and my interests first."  It is the sort of existence that does not consider the good of the neighbor around you... and maybe even more piteous, that cannot any longer think in terms of the good of the neighbor.  It's like you forget how to do it... almost like the way you see in a classic zombie movie these moments where the walking dead show hints of the humanity they used to have, but no longer are capable of showing.

That is, in so many words, what the book we call First John says about our existence, too:  when we attempt to live our lives oriented inward--that "me and my interests first, and who cares about you?" mindset--we lose something essential to our humanity.  We lose something of being fully alive, and, not to put too fine a point on it, we become spiritual zombies, who lose more and more of the ability to do anything but feed our own endless hunger.  It is not even really a "life" anymore, but a state of being dead inside.  As First John says it, "whoever does not love abides in death."  That's exactly it.

Maybe all of us, at some level, have been abiding in death somewhere inside, and we haven't even realized it.  By definition, you can't "feel" when you start to go numb, right?

The worst part of it, of course, is that you don't even realize when it has happened.  Nobody ever sets out to become dead inside.  But it happens slowly, sometimes imperceptibly, as our compassion deadens and we lose the capacity to care about others, like neuropathy of the soul.  It happens subtly, usually presenting itself as something good and decent.  Nobody goes carrying banners that say, "I want to be dead inside!" or even, "I don't want to care about other people!" but it starts with mottos like, "Me and My Group First!" or "Nobody Can Tell Me What To Do, Because I'm Free!" and it just snowballs.  And from there it becomes easier and easier to decide that some other people just don't matter... and I become less and less willing to be inconvenienced for the sake of others' well being... and I become more and more inclined to treat the lives of others as disposable if it gets in the way of what I want.  

And the next thing you know, I have become numb to how cut off I have become from others... and how I have let my world shrink down only to a narrow view of me-and-my-interests.  That sounds like being a spiritual zombie to me--it sure ain't being "alive," even if all your efforts are focused on self-preservation.

Over against all of that is this vision we are given of life in Christ--of having been brought back from death to life, and of how that little resurrection within us draws us into love.  Not schmaltzy romance--which, so often, is really just a means of dressing self-interest up in eveningwear--but love for all, love for neighbors, love for faces and stories of both saints and stinkers alike.  That's what happens because of our life in Christ.  These verses from First John make the connection clear--when you have been pulled from the old deadness into life, it leads you to love your neighbor, because you are finally freed from that old deadness in your soul that was only focused on you.  Part of what assures us of the resurrection of our bodies beyond death is that Jesus has begun a resurrection of our hearts from their old zombie-like self-centeredness into a new way of being fully alive.

I think part of our contemporary problem is that we are unwilling to consider that we have been taught by some voices around us to call "success" or "freedom" or "the good life" actually requires some level of being dead inside, because we are taught to seek after our own personal interests, comforts, or whims before the needs of our neighbor.  And then to discover that it never leads to the abundant life we had been promised, well, that sets us up for a letdown.  I know it may seem a bit cliché, but there's wisdom in that line from the last Harry Potter novel, where J.K. Rowling writes, "Do not pity the living.  Pity... above all those who live without love."  It seems like something of an echo of the line from the Eagles' classic song, "Desperado," which rings in my ear, too: "And freedom?  That's just some people talkin'... your prison is walkin' through this world all alone."  

Look, it's probably a pretty rare occurrence in this world to have George Romero and his zombies, J. K. Rowling and her wizarding world, and Don Henley and the Eagles all adding their voices in chorus as back up singers for the same tune the New Testament is singing.  So when it happens, maybe we should give them a listen.  Maybe each of us has been dead inside at some deep dark place in our hearts, and we were taught to ignore it, or to think it was just a way of "standing up for your own independence."  And maybe we need to surrender that deadness again to Jesus, who keeps resurrecting our zombified hearts to full life again, every time we keep running back into "me-and-my-interests-first" deadness.

Maybe today's another day for a little resurrection.

Lord Jesus, in all the places we have let ourselves become spiritual zombies, call us back to life, and free us from just living for our selves, our comfort, and our convenience.