One of my favorite composers is Dmitri Shostakovich. He wrote his most famous and most moving works in Stalinist Russia. His masterpiece (in my humble opinion) is his fifth symphony, composed in Leningrad in 1937. It was triumphantly received and he became the darling composer of the communist regime.
But it was forced. The symphony is brilliant because on one level, the final movement seems like a joyous, triumphant march. It was interpreted as such by the powers that be and they loved it. The triumph of communist youth in the world.
But Shostakovich had a deeper message. He interprets it himself years later.
The rejoicing is forced, created under threat, as in Boris Godunov. It’s as if someone were beating you with a stick and saying, “Your business is rejoicing, your business is rejoicing”, and you rise, shaky, and go marching off, muttering, “Our business is rejoicing, our business is rejoicing.”
You can beat someone with a stick and teach them the rote memorization of the law: “Your business is rejoicing, your business is rejoicing”. And if your gulags are terrifying enough, you will have compliance.
But you will not have love. You also will not have the obedience that God delights in. There is a difference between a slave and a son (or daughter).
In a recent flyer for a church plant (CREC, of course), I saw this and immediately thought of Shostakovich.

I’ve lived that kind of “obedience”. The only way to achieve it is with a very large stick. The children cower behind the wife with a smile plastered on her face while the husband makes the rounds. She usually has stomach problems, ulcers, chronic pain, anxiety – but dare not allow the pain to show. The children used to scream and try to run whenever they saw the building, but they since have learned to keep their feelings to themselves. Now they just look scared and empty.
She will never break her smile to face her brokenness or deal with her pain and loneliness because she is too frightened.
And the children will finally break free when they are big enough to fend for themselves and want nothing more to do with Christianity, because they thought that this was what Christianity was.
But it isn’t. It’s what Paul calls the letter of the law written on stone. It is Shostakovich’s big stick – “Your business is rejoicing!”
And it kills.
It is funny to me how the conservative evangelical right wing church, on one hand so terrified of being taken over by commies that they cower in fear of elections, have become so similar to the chief communist dictator. Stalin would rather have the front of those rejoicing under threat than deal with any affront to his own power. This is the heart of Project 2025.
Sound familiar? “Your business is rejoicing!”
Smiling wives, obedient children, large sticks, human corpses waiting for a resurrection – pasting smiles on their faces in terror while the journalists from the west are touring.
How many of you have experienced church just like this: Paste your smile on. Terrify your children into staying small, quiet, “well-behaved”, and don’t you DARE let anyone know what you are actually thinking.
Home is the gulag. Church is the show.
When you see this and you see it used as an advertisement, you know something about the group:
1. They aren’t a church. The church is where wives sometimes weep and children are safe to ask questions and men are humble and all rely on the cross of Jesus, not manmade rules. Widows and single moms and addicts and those with broken sexuality and hurting bodies and confused minds come to find life, not to learn how to paste a smile on.
2. You know that they don’t understand the resurrection. The day will come when God will wipe all tears away, and today is not that day. As long as we are in this body of death we weep and mourn and hurt and comfort one another, longing for a resurrection.
3. And this is the big one. You know that beneath the smiles and obedience is someone with a very large stick. “Your business is rejoicing”.
4. They don’t know Jesus. Jesus never shamed the weeping woman, or the crying child, or the restless teenager. He came to save sinners, not to bring a stick to beat them with.
This stuff and these people have the smell of death, which is why they hate the cross. It is death to those who are dying.
But it is life to those who are ready to be free.It is life and peace to the one who weeps, the one who mourns, the one who is poor, the one who hungers and thirsts after righteousness.
But the one who is rich he sends away empty.
They are fine going away without Christ, anyway. Because the Jesus they want is one who knows how to keep the women in place, the kids quiet and out of the way, the men masculine and horny, and the girls pliable and under control, and the right politicians in power.
But this Jesus is just a figment of imagination. When they see that the least is the greatest, and the greatest is the one who serves and that there is only room for sinners at the table, the “rich man” scoffs and wants nothing to do with a Jesus who would hang out with people like that.
People like publicans and sinners. People with mental health struggles. People who are real and wounded and come for healing, people who cause fusses and make messes, and weep and mourn.
Jesus, the eternal Son of God, came to free those who are imprisoned by the big stick of the law. He came to teach us how to mourn, how to sing, how to laugh, how to cry out, and how to dance.
He desires, above all, that all of his children are released to be free. Free to feel. Free to speak the truth. Free to love. Free to exercise gifts and invest talents. Free to wiggle and to cry and hurt.
He came so that we might cry “Abba, Father!”
Yes, even the women. Even the children. Even the men.
I, for one, am sick of the peddlers of death under the guise of Christian pastors, and pray for their days to be short.
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