I watched a wonderful PBS special about the making of the Torah. Some old scholarshp with illustrations and commentary made a colorful, even moving, review of Biblical history.
They showed pictures of stones with early Hebrew alphabet to pinpoint earliest date for writing around 1000 BCE (unless and until they discover older stones in the future). Cue brushes on sheepskin, historians in David's court. Then cue the Dead Sea Scrolls from (when?) 300 BCE marked by those scratchings.
Music and vague images of men in robes grabbing scrolls through fire portrayed the Babylonian exile as I always pictured it-- "Grab the scrolls, grab the scrolls!"--and helped me understand Sabbath better, the priestly construction of a Temple in Time.
Beautiful. Those priests were geniuses and all at a time when everything was over: the Covenant with David, the Holy Temple, the Promised Land, all just--gone. The exiles had no way to predict Cyrus would conquer Babylon and let them go home; they had only hopeful gorgeous prophesies of Return; and they believed them.
One thrilling find: Archaeologists have dug up numerous little fertility goddesses and other pagan statuettes from the time before the 6th-century BCE Babylonian Exile. From the layers since the Return under Cyrus of Persia, they have found not a one. Evidence from absence that the prophets were heeded.
Even the most academic, secular retelling cannot get around the Lord. When Hebrews escaping Egypt entered Canaan around 13th century BCE, they blended with the locals, who adopted the newcomers' Exodus story as their own history (a kind of reversal of the way we later immigrants retell the Pilgrim story in America). It was almost in embarrassment that TV scholars acknowledged that the runaway slaves from Egypt "had a divine experience." They sounded like Toad in American Graffitti mumbling, "and a pint of Old Harper's..." trying to mix it in with his order of a comb and beef jerky.
But like the clerk in Toad's store, I God's child, caught the main point ("ID, please"). I drew deeply from the divine Word as I watched the scholars coming to grips with the historiography and the archaeology--e.g., a big royal compound has been excavated that could be David's palace! (A lot of building and writing seemed to start up all at once, not to mention the music of Psalms!) This show was my idea of thrills.
And also food for reflection:
We also stand on the brink of sincere peril. If apocalypse descends to us, as it did then to Judah, grab the scrolls, throw out the astartes, remember the divine experience, and hold fast to the promises. A new heaven and a new earth is being created. This message I took from my Advent watching.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Thanksgiving Faith
Luke 17:11-19
Jesus healed ten lepers, and one returned to thank him. To this one, a Samaritan, he said, "Your faith has healed you."
The Greek sozo means, saved, healed, made whole, delivered from evil or danger. Did you ever wonder why Jesus made that remark at exactly that place? I think it's because the leper's thanksgiving is an act of faith, and his sozo a further deliverance.
Thinking about the other nine I imagine they either forgot they were ever sick or attributed their healing to natural causes. You know that feeling after you pray for some miracle and it occurs? You're tempted to say oh it would have happened anyway. Indeed, most of God's healing acts could probably be explained away as due to natural causes (however you disinguish such from miracles), even at the very stretch a mind-over-matter affair. Something there is that doesn't want to attribute the blessing to God--from whom we begged it.
I think the resistance is the fear and trembling of acknowledging our dependence on the Other, the unknowable, the all-powerful. So the thanks that gives credit to the one who answered the plea of "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" must be the pistis faith that Jesus commends. And the salvation another deeper healing that is brought into being by Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving faith consists of proper attribution to God--i.e., a basis in reality. The healing consists of forging a live connection to the divine. Paul says, "Work out your salvation in fear and trembling"--by daring to thank God for these miracles we have begged for and received.
Jesus healed ten lepers, and one returned to thank him. To this one, a Samaritan, he said, "Your faith has healed you."
The Greek sozo means, saved, healed, made whole, delivered from evil or danger. Did you ever wonder why Jesus made that remark at exactly that place? I think it's because the leper's thanksgiving is an act of faith, and his sozo a further deliverance.
Thinking about the other nine I imagine they either forgot they were ever sick or attributed their healing to natural causes. You know that feeling after you pray for some miracle and it occurs? You're tempted to say oh it would have happened anyway. Indeed, most of God's healing acts could probably be explained away as due to natural causes (however you disinguish such from miracles), even at the very stretch a mind-over-matter affair. Something there is that doesn't want to attribute the blessing to God--from whom we begged it.
I think the resistance is the fear and trembling of acknowledging our dependence on the Other, the unknowable, the all-powerful. So the thanks that gives credit to the one who answered the plea of "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!" must be the pistis faith that Jesus commends. And the salvation another deeper healing that is brought into being by Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving faith consists of proper attribution to God--i.e., a basis in reality. The healing consists of forging a live connection to the divine. Paul says, "Work out your salvation in fear and trembling"--by daring to thank God for these miracles we have begged for and received.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Current Events
This morning's lectionary told the story of Abimelech, a ruler of Israel around the time of Jesus' ancestor Ruth (c. 1200 BCE). Abimelech and men of Shechem had been collaborators in the killing of Abimelech's seventy brothers. But then the men of Shechem turned to robbing travelers on the mountain roads, and Abimelech went to burn them up in a tower (Judges 9:22-25, 50-57). A woman in the tower threw a millstone down, which crushed Abimelech's skull. He begged his armor bearer to run him through so he wouldn't die by the hand of a woman. The incident was God's requiting of both sides.
As many before me, I wish I could see it on CNN.
"We've got the armor bearer here, Wolf. Tell me, sir, what were Abimelech's exact words?"
Red oblong underneath reads, "Woman kills Abimelech; Israel goes home."
As many before me, I would love to see today's news written up to resemble Scripture:
"An evil spirit rose between NATO and Russia. Certain rulers named Medvedev and Putin encamped against Tskhinvali to destabilize Georgia."
An old Christian saying advises us to pray with "the Bible in one hand, the newspaper in the other." Unlike the reporters of the book of Judges, we're not in position to point out God's requiting in this current war.
As many before me, I wish I could see it on CNN.
"We've got the armor bearer here, Wolf. Tell me, sir, what were Abimelech's exact words?"
Red oblong underneath reads, "Woman kills Abimelech; Israel goes home."
As many before me, I would love to see today's news written up to resemble Scripture:
"An evil spirit rose between NATO and Russia. Certain rulers named Medvedev and Putin encamped against Tskhinvali to destabilize Georgia."
An old Christian saying advises us to pray with "the Bible in one hand, the newspaper in the other." Unlike the reporters of the book of Judges, we're not in position to point out God's requiting in this current war.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
What do you want?
Matthew 20:17-28
"Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee...asked him for something. And he said to her, 'What do you want?'
Usually I think of the question as Jesus asked it of the blind man, whose courage to express his heart's desire became part of his healing. Here, though, we encounter one of the times Jesus said 'No.'
Off the top of my head I can think of two other times. Once, when Jesus healed a man, the man asked to follow Jesus and Jesus refused him, sending him back to his village. The other famous time I remember is the Canaanite (or Cyro-Phoenician) woman who got Jesus to change his mind about healing her daughter.
Here, on the way up to Jerusalem, comes another mother, with her sons James and John--and kneels!--to ask that they may sit at his right and left side when Jesus comes into his kingdom. He is going to refuse, and to top it off Jesus doesn't even respond to her but turns to the sons, asking, "Are you able to drink the cup that I am to drink?"
"We are able," the sons said to him (the ones he had nicknamed "sons of thunder"). What are they thinking? He has just told him he'll be mocked and crucified!
"And you will drink my cup," he tells them--but the right and left hand business "has been prepared by my Father."
Wow. First, Jesus appears a bit rude to the kneeling mother and speaks directly to the sons. OK, she was speaking for them, it's clear. There was what we nowadays call a triangulation going on. She was willing to get down on her knees and beg for something they clearly wanted for themselves.
The funny thing is that elsewhere, Jesus has promised the disciples that they will sit with him in glory to judge the 12 tribes.
That glory was still to come, however. First, must come the cup of suffering. And they will share that, he assures them.
They will share the cup of his blood at the Last Supper; and they will share the cup of his martyrdom I'm sure.
Traditionally, Jesus' response is read to mean the Father prepared two thieves who will be crucified at his right and left hand in a week's time. But the real point of the pericope (if you're still reading this) is the teachable moment for all the disciples, including the ten who are now expressing irritated rivalry with James and John: "The rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them.... It shall not be so among you."
Jesus' kingdom is different; it is a kingdom of service. Whenever we find ourselves hankering after glory and worldly authority
this is our answer. We're going to share his glory all right; but not before sharing the hard parts. And we're going to share his cup because he first shared ours.
"Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee...asked him for something. And he said to her, 'What do you want?'
Usually I think of the question as Jesus asked it of the blind man, whose courage to express his heart's desire became part of his healing. Here, though, we encounter one of the times Jesus said 'No.'
Off the top of my head I can think of two other times. Once, when Jesus healed a man, the man asked to follow Jesus and Jesus refused him, sending him back to his village. The other famous time I remember is the Canaanite (or Cyro-Phoenician) woman who got Jesus to change his mind about healing her daughter.
Here, on the way up to Jerusalem, comes another mother, with her sons James and John--and kneels!--to ask that they may sit at his right and left side when Jesus comes into his kingdom. He is going to refuse, and to top it off Jesus doesn't even respond to her but turns to the sons, asking, "Are you able to drink the cup that I am to drink?"
"We are able," the sons said to him (the ones he had nicknamed "sons of thunder"). What are they thinking? He has just told him he'll be mocked and crucified!
"And you will drink my cup," he tells them--but the right and left hand business "has been prepared by my Father."
Wow. First, Jesus appears a bit rude to the kneeling mother and speaks directly to the sons. OK, she was speaking for them, it's clear. There was what we nowadays call a triangulation going on. She was willing to get down on her knees and beg for something they clearly wanted for themselves.
The funny thing is that elsewhere, Jesus has promised the disciples that they will sit with him in glory to judge the 12 tribes.
That glory was still to come, however. First, must come the cup of suffering. And they will share that, he assures them.
They will share the cup of his blood at the Last Supper; and they will share the cup of his martyrdom I'm sure.
Traditionally, Jesus' response is read to mean the Father prepared two thieves who will be crucified at his right and left hand in a week's time. But the real point of the pericope (if you're still reading this) is the teachable moment for all the disciples, including the ten who are now expressing irritated rivalry with James and John: "The rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them.... It shall not be so among you."
Jesus' kingdom is different; it is a kingdom of service. Whenever we find ourselves hankering after glory and worldly authority
this is our answer. We're going to share his glory all right; but not before sharing the hard parts. And we're going to share his cup because he first shared ours.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
It's a Miracle!
Matthew 14:13-21
Sitting down to a big meal after a long day of fun, my six-year-old Altheus exclaimed: "This food is wonderful! It's like a miracle!"
When the five thousand received bread and fish in the cool of the evening, they felt the same. They received food, in the cooling outdoors, it was delicious.
It's a good thing to be hungry and to eat.
Sitting down to a big meal after a long day of fun, my six-year-old Altheus exclaimed: "This food is wonderful! It's like a miracle!"
When the five thousand received bread and fish in the cool of the evening, they felt the same. They received food, in the cooling outdoors, it was delicious.
It's a good thing to be hungry and to eat.
Friday, May 30, 2008
The Psalms Speak of Me
“The Psalms speak of me,” the risen Christ told his friends.*
Ancient Christian tradition holds that Jesus prays in the Psalms. In mortal life, he chanted them in worship and no doubt in those private moments. Now he prays with us in the Holy Spirit.
Here is a good one to start with:
Oh Lord I am not proud,
I have no haughty looks.
I do not concern myself with complications
Or things that are too hard.
But I still my soul and make it quiet.
Like a weaned child on her mother’s lap
My soul is quiet within me.
Oh Israel, wait for the Lord
From now on and forever. [Ps 131]
It is a good psalm for a quiet moment “sitting on God’s lap.”
The Prayer Book translation implies a baby at the breast, but I like the image of the weaned one (for reasons even apart from accuracy). This weaned child has rested from his toddling around. She knows she is with her mother. He trusts. She is not always pulling at the mother's shirt. He knows how to wait.
A Russian icon that I have on my desk, shows the toddler Jesus sitting with you (the viewer) and his Holy Mother, holding his little scroll and pointing his little index finger as he "fully opens"** our minds to these Scriptures.
Just wait.
* [Lk 24:44].
**[Lk 24:45, from Greek dia-noi-go (diagnosis?)].
Ancient Christian tradition holds that Jesus prays in the Psalms. In mortal life, he chanted them in worship and no doubt in those private moments. Now he prays with us in the Holy Spirit.
Here is a good one to start with:
Oh Lord I am not proud,
I have no haughty looks.
I do not concern myself with complications
Or things that are too hard.
But I still my soul and make it quiet.
Like a weaned child on her mother’s lap
My soul is quiet within me.
Oh Israel, wait for the Lord
From now on and forever. [Ps 131]
It is a good psalm for a quiet moment “sitting on God’s lap.”
The Prayer Book translation implies a baby at the breast, but I like the image of the weaned one (for reasons even apart from accuracy). This weaned child has rested from his toddling around. She knows she is with her mother. He trusts. She is not always pulling at the mother's shirt. He knows how to wait.
A Russian icon that I have on my desk, shows the toddler Jesus sitting with you (the viewer) and his Holy Mother, holding his little scroll and pointing his little index finger as he "fully opens"** our minds to these Scriptures.
Just wait.
* [Lk 24:44].
**[Lk 24:45, from Greek dia-noi-go (diagnosis?)].
Friday, May 16, 2008
What Happened?
A dogging nagging question of my personal history: What happened? It's going to be a section in my memoirs.
What happened that I have not meditated here since Feb. 28th? Well of course the pneumonia blah blah.
But then, a horrible diffidence enshrouded my thoughts.
First, the inability to joke around. Holiness is serious business! How can I write without drollness? So pompous! So not-me? So let's face it vulnerable.
Second, so much happens outside the Daily Office. So I changed my title today to "Thoughts and Questions Occur." Kind of Kierkegaardian, don't you think? That's me, pal of Kierkegaard.
Thirdly, I'm thinking maybe I'm just not wise anymore. I "cling to my religion," as Obama has noticed. I live in extremes more than you would think and get reduced to basic clinging: God's faithfulness endures from age to age; one is God's beloved; believe in God and the one he has sent. It's true, in realizing my unwisdom I cling.
And then I read others' mediations and see how well they are done, and I ask myself, where is the voice of the unwise, the failed, the impaired?
That is the question and thought for today.
What happened that I have not meditated here since Feb. 28th? Well of course the pneumonia blah blah.
But then, a horrible diffidence enshrouded my thoughts.
First, the inability to joke around. Holiness is serious business! How can I write without drollness? So pompous! So not-me? So let's face it vulnerable.
Second, so much happens outside the Daily Office. So I changed my title today to "Thoughts and Questions Occur." Kind of Kierkegaardian, don't you think? That's me, pal of Kierkegaard.
Thirdly, I'm thinking maybe I'm just not wise anymore. I "cling to my religion," as Obama has noticed. I live in extremes more than you would think and get reduced to basic clinging: God's faithfulness endures from age to age; one is God's beloved; believe in God and the one he has sent. It's true, in realizing my unwisdom I cling.
And then I read others' mediations and see how well they are done, and I ask myself, where is the voice of the unwise, the failed, the impaired?
That is the question and thought for today.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Work in the Lord
I Cor. 9:1-15 "Are you not my work in the Lord?"
Little reminder for today-- I am someone's (many someones') work in the Lord.
Always thinking and praying for souls in my care, I stand reminded that so many worked and prayed over me. So many persons prayed for me, preached to me, counseled me, spiritually directed me. I was a tough little cookie too, needed a lot of work. All these apostles and evangelists of my life--most of whom did not leave written evidence--taught and loved, and got so frustrated to help me grow.
Thanks, everybody.
Little reminder for today-- I am someone's (many someones') work in the Lord.
Always thinking and praying for souls in my care, I stand reminded that so many worked and prayed over me. So many persons prayed for me, preached to me, counseled me, spiritually directed me. I was a tough little cookie too, needed a lot of work. All these apostles and evangelists of my life--most of whom did not leave written evidence--taught and loved, and got so frustrated to help me grow.
Thanks, everybody.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Hard Sayings
The parts of Scripture we find uncomfortable we call hard sayings. Actually, the term might apply to Jesus only; but I find it here in Paul and the author of Genesis too. Jesus is saying he has a NEW family now, and his old family thinks he has stepped outside of himself. Paul writes that the immoral man in the community must be "handed over to Satan," to destroy the body that the spirit will live. (One shudders to think of the line from here to the Inquisition, while not exactly a straight one, does lead there.) And for Joseph ben Jacob, eating well is truly revenge, as his famished brothers come seeking food and he responds by clapping them into prison.
One help I find is: What is the ultimacy? Today's readings present snippets from certain points in the story. From hindsight we know Jesus' mother and brothers eventually converted. Later in I Corinthians we read Paul's unsurpassed hymn to love ("If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels..."). Joseph reconciled with his brothers. The hard parts can be strangely comfortable words when you're actually in the grip of rejection, anger, and failure. Joseph has been here, and the apostle, and our Lord. Suffering and evil and death--while extremely real--do not have the last word.
Ultimately, we look forward to the "happy ending," or as the scholar Walter Brueggemann expresses it: orientation -- disorientation -- reorientation. I can also use the reminder that religion isn't about "being nice" all the time.
One help I find is: What is the ultimacy? Today's readings present snippets from certain points in the story. From hindsight we know Jesus' mother and brothers eventually converted. Later in I Corinthians we read Paul's unsurpassed hymn to love ("If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels..."). Joseph reconciled with his brothers. The hard parts can be strangely comfortable words when you're actually in the grip of rejection, anger, and failure. Joseph has been here, and the apostle, and our Lord. Suffering and evil and death--while extremely real--do not have the last word.
Ultimately, we look forward to the "happy ending," or as the scholar Walter Brueggemann expresses it: orientation -- disorientation -- reorientation. I can also use the reminder that religion isn't about "being nice" all the time.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Surprised
"My times are in Your hand.." Ps 31: 15 Last Epiphany Friday
I had forgotten the part about Lent where: one is led. Lenten practice isn't just us doing and not doing; it is discovering the Living God moving in our lives. Our prayers and observances are more than a personal project that we are trying to put together oh so perfectly. We are, to put it clumsily, God's project.
Today, the Living God through His servant Paul and the mediation of Christ in community says: 'REJOICE!' Right at the beginning of the penitential season, we are to go in rejoicing.
Rejoice, as the great prayer of Jesus in John 17 declares: We're His! And oh yes, we're sent, sent into the world. We are here for a reason.
And through Ezekiel we can rejoice to hear, "You can turn and live."
Every year this surprises me, that with the Holy Spirit there is always more.
I had forgotten the part about Lent where: one is led. Lenten practice isn't just us doing and not doing; it is discovering the Living God moving in our lives. Our prayers and observances are more than a personal project that we are trying to put together oh so perfectly. We are, to put it clumsily, God's project.
Today, the Living God through His servant Paul and the mediation of Christ in community says: 'REJOICE!' Right at the beginning of the penitential season, we are to go in rejoicing.
Rejoice, as the great prayer of Jesus in John 17 declares: We're His! And oh yes, we're sent, sent into the world. We are here for a reason.
And through Ezekiel we can rejoice to hear, "You can turn and live."
Every year this surprises me, that with the Holy Spirit there is always more.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Commending The Faith that Is In Us
Ash Wednesday
This a.m., "failure to commend the faith that is in us" leapt out from the litany for Ash Wedneday.
One pastor comments, "We have not fully understood [faith], entrusted ourselves to it, or practiced it." [www.pubtheo.com/page.asp?pid=1446].
Bad inadequate us, to be sure. That's why I love Psalm 32, which begins and ends with joy, even as remembering the withering and groaning of unconfessed sin. How trusting vv. 7 and 8 are, picturing "all the faithful making their prayers to you in time of trouble," concluding v. 8, "you surround me with shouts of deliverance."
The shouts brought to mind last night's pancake supper, when the Associate Rector went around to the many round tables "collecting" Alleluias for "burial" in Lent. Each table shouted "ALLELUIA" as she came by, so that all around the room you heard the Alleuias erupting. We were literally sitting in a surround-sound of deliverance.
So when I woke up today I understood that deliverance-surrounding community to be the way into Lent. There is safety there "hiding place," (v. 8) and mercy embraces those who trust (v. 11). Holding back from there would be my failure to commend the faith that is in us. The mercies come from changing our practice of withholding the things we need God's help with. Yipe.
This a.m., "failure to commend the faith that is in us" leapt out from the litany for Ash Wedneday.
One pastor comments, "We have not fully understood [faith], entrusted ourselves to it, or practiced it." [www.pubtheo.com/page.asp?pid=1446].
Bad inadequate us, to be sure. That's why I love Psalm 32, which begins and ends with joy, even as remembering the withering and groaning of unconfessed sin. How trusting vv. 7 and 8 are, picturing "all the faithful making their prayers to you in time of trouble," concluding v. 8, "you surround me with shouts of deliverance."
The shouts brought to mind last night's pancake supper, when the Associate Rector went around to the many round tables "collecting" Alleluias for "burial" in Lent. Each table shouted "ALLELUIA" as she came by, so that all around the room you heard the Alleuias erupting. We were literally sitting in a surround-sound of deliverance.
So when I woke up today I understood that deliverance-surrounding community to be the way into Lent. There is safety there "hiding place," (v. 8) and mercy embraces those who trust (v. 11). Holding back from there would be my failure to commend the faith that is in us. The mercies come from changing our practice of withholding the things we need God's help with. Yipe.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Hebrew of Hebrews
Philippians 3:1-11 Shrove Tuesday, Year 2
The race... of Israel. The tribe... of Benjamin... Of law... a Pharisee. Of zeal... a persecutor of Christians. Of Torah righteousness... perfect. He doesn't add his Roman citizenship here but Paul was definitely the right sort... IF one were to put confidence in flesh.
Today's scholars agree that Paul didn't write all the letters attributed to him. To me that says, look at how many he DID write, including this one. Our Paul was a real man, who had everything in the way of credentials and counted it all refuse ("skewbalon" = "dung") for Jesus. For the Gospel he suffered shipwreck, mockery, and he even fought with wild beasts in Ephesus. Here he writes from prison, debating rival missionaries who claimed that conversion to Christianity meant you had to become a circumcized Jew first.
Circumcision represented holiness; that's why Paul says "WE are the circumcision." The carnal kinships (for "sarx" in Greek means sinful human nature; flesh; kinships) won't save you. What matters is to know Christ... to "be found in him" ... to have the righteousness from God that depends on faith... not his own following the law so perfectly ... to suffer with him (!)
Does Paul's passion put us off maybe? Oh, great, give up my reliance on privilege, a big carbon footprint, and an Ivy League education to fling myself into suffering with Christ? To pursue a death like Christ's as my goal? Or even give up sweets for Lent?
The good news is that we have already gone through that death in the waters of baptism. That is the holiness/circumcision that Paul teaches. We have already been laid hold of (as Paul says of himself in v. 12). It was when I realized the day of my baptism was the most important day of my life that I began to really live. As I increasingly realize the surpassing worth of God's blessings to me, I start thinking that despite all my carnal fear and sloth I somehow have to find a way to share it.
I know Paul is right; entering Lent I pray for his courage.
The race... of Israel. The tribe... of Benjamin... Of law... a Pharisee. Of zeal... a persecutor of Christians. Of Torah righteousness... perfect. He doesn't add his Roman citizenship here but Paul was definitely the right sort... IF one were to put confidence in flesh.
Today's scholars agree that Paul didn't write all the letters attributed to him. To me that says, look at how many he DID write, including this one. Our Paul was a real man, who had everything in the way of credentials and counted it all refuse ("skewbalon" = "dung") for Jesus. For the Gospel he suffered shipwreck, mockery, and he even fought with wild beasts in Ephesus. Here he writes from prison, debating rival missionaries who claimed that conversion to Christianity meant you had to become a circumcized Jew first.
Circumcision represented holiness; that's why Paul says "WE are the circumcision." The carnal kinships (for "sarx" in Greek means sinful human nature; flesh; kinships) won't save you. What matters is to know Christ... to "be found in him" ... to have the righteousness from God that depends on faith... not his own following the law so perfectly ... to suffer with him (!)
Does Paul's passion put us off maybe? Oh, great, give up my reliance on privilege, a big carbon footprint, and an Ivy League education to fling myself into suffering with Christ? To pursue a death like Christ's as my goal? Or even give up sweets for Lent?
The good news is that we have already gone through that death in the waters of baptism. That is the holiness/circumcision that Paul teaches. We have already been laid hold of (as Paul says of himself in v. 12). It was when I realized the day of my baptism was the most important day of my life that I began to really live. As I increasingly realize the surpassing worth of God's blessings to me, I start thinking that despite all my carnal fear and sloth I somehow have to find a way to share it.
I know Paul is right; entering Lent I pray for his courage.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
"Do You Want It?"
John 5:1-9
In the Jerusalem Temple was a healing pool called Bethzada, a double pool with five porticoes whose ruins remain today. Invalids waited for the water to stir so they could rush down and compete to be first in for a healing; the rest would remain ill. The story makes me wonder if the blind, lame, and paralyzed found their way to some home at night, or whether they just congregated at the pool 24/7. I can picture a small garrulous community there, telling jokes, passing gossip and complaining about all and everything.
One first-century Sabbath, when Jesus visited the Temple for a festival, he spotted a certain invalid in the crowd and healed him. Why pick him out of all the others? I don't know, but he asked the sick man, "Do you want to made well?" The question brings to mind Jesus' question to blind Bartimaeus [Mk 10:46-52 (cf. Mt 30:22, Lk 18: 35-43)]: "What do you want me to do for you?"
"Do you want it?" We could ask ourselves this--or perhaps hear the Lord asking us--about things we pine for but hope will just happen to us. Do we want to stand on our own? And do we want the aftermath of getting what we're focusing on? Did the sick man really want to give up the leisurely days lying by the pool, chatting up his fellow invalids, no doubt getting free food from the Temple who provide charity for the poor?
The man's answer doesn't make him a good candidate for healing. He whines in helplessness: Oh, he has no one to put him in the pool; oh, other people crowd ahead of him. Jesus' curt response: "Get up, take your mat, and walk." From my experience as a pastoral counselor, I can imagine a smidgen of impatience in Jesus' healing words. Stand on your own two feet! Carry your own mat!
To his credit, the man did get up immediately. To his discredit, when Sabbath enforcers interrogated him, he informed on Jesus as the one who healed him.
The story is complicated and bears more study: especially that Jesus, who had gotten away in the crowd, found the man later and warned him not to sin again (Jn 5:14-15). It was after that the man turned him in. So rather than an amazement of glory and faith after this sign, we find poltroonery (sp?). Which begs the question: what will we do after we get what we want?
In the Jerusalem Temple was a healing pool called Bethzada, a double pool with five porticoes whose ruins remain today. Invalids waited for the water to stir so they could rush down and compete to be first in for a healing; the rest would remain ill. The story makes me wonder if the blind, lame, and paralyzed found their way to some home at night, or whether they just congregated at the pool 24/7. I can picture a small garrulous community there, telling jokes, passing gossip and complaining about all and everything.
One first-century Sabbath, when Jesus visited the Temple for a festival, he spotted a certain invalid in the crowd and healed him. Why pick him out of all the others? I don't know, but he asked the sick man, "Do you want to made well?" The question brings to mind Jesus' question to blind Bartimaeus [Mk 10:46-52 (cf. Mt 30:22, Lk 18: 35-43)]: "What do you want me to do for you?"
"Do you want it?" We could ask ourselves this--or perhaps hear the Lord asking us--about things we pine for but hope will just happen to us. Do we want to stand on our own? And do we want the aftermath of getting what we're focusing on? Did the sick man really want to give up the leisurely days lying by the pool, chatting up his fellow invalids, no doubt getting free food from the Temple who provide charity for the poor?
The man's answer doesn't make him a good candidate for healing. He whines in helplessness: Oh, he has no one to put him in the pool; oh, other people crowd ahead of him. Jesus' curt response: "Get up, take your mat, and walk." From my experience as a pastoral counselor, I can imagine a smidgen of impatience in Jesus' healing words. Stand on your own two feet! Carry your own mat!
To his credit, the man did get up immediately. To his discredit, when Sabbath enforcers interrogated him, he informed on Jesus as the one who healed him.
The story is complicated and bears more study: especially that Jesus, who had gotten away in the crowd, found the man later and warned him not to sin again (Jn 5:14-15). It was after that the man turned him in. So rather than an amazement of glory and faith after this sign, we find poltroonery (sp?). Which begs the question: what will we do after we get what we want?
Monday, January 28, 2008
A Sign from God
John 4: 46-54 "Now this was the second sign that Jesus did...."
A sign from God--and the official and his whole family believed.
A sign that took place because a royal official went seeking his son's healing; and he persisted after meeting resistance, and continued to push through to receiving a great grace.
When Jesus said, "You won't believe unless you see signs," the official said: "Sir (Kyrie, Lord), come down before my little boy dies." (Never mind about your signs, Sir, a life is at stake!) The father himself had a part in bringing about the healing: persistent prayer, a form of belief.
The official had a further part: he believed the word, episteusen (the word for faith is pistis). I.e., he believed before he saw the sign. He acted on Jesus' command to "go home, your son will live." Acting in faith, another form of belief.
And the next part is, the man then recognized the sign. Beyond his understandable rejoicing, this father compared the time of Jesus' words to the time of his little boy's healing. He recognized the connection and saw his miracle beyond the happy outcome--that perhaps would have happened anyway if he had stayed home--but a sign of the Messianic age.
Every step of the way, the official acted in faith (even seeking out Jesus in the first place). What sign will the Lord give today if we persist in prayer, confident and observant.
A sign from God--and the official and his whole family believed.
A sign that took place because a royal official went seeking his son's healing; and he persisted after meeting resistance, and continued to push through to receiving a great grace.
When Jesus said, "You won't believe unless you see signs," the official said: "Sir (Kyrie, Lord), come down before my little boy dies." (Never mind about your signs, Sir, a life is at stake!) The father himself had a part in bringing about the healing: persistent prayer, a form of belief.
The official had a further part: he believed the word, episteusen (the word for faith is pistis). I.e., he believed before he saw the sign. He acted on Jesus' command to "go home, your son will live." Acting in faith, another form of belief.
And the next part is, the man then recognized the sign. Beyond his understandable rejoicing, this father compared the time of Jesus' words to the time of his little boy's healing. He recognized the connection and saw his miracle beyond the happy outcome--that perhaps would have happened anyway if he had stayed home--but a sign of the Messianic age.
Every step of the way, the official acted in faith (even seeking out Jesus in the first place). What sign will the Lord give today if we persist in prayer, confident and observant.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
A Certain Rainbow
Genesis 9: "Be fruitful and multiply"
In my old age it occurred to me: why do people have kids? Why do we bring lives into this world of suffering and evil and death? Even for a dog, I thought: As I held Daisy's little gray corpse in my arms, I cried to the vet, "It doesn't seem worth it!"
But as Gerard Manley Hopkins says, "there lives the dearest freshness deep down things." Some Love at the center of creation wants to extend Himself--and being created in Her image (v. 6), we did multiply fruitfully. We brought into being beings to love, and to suffer for, even to die for. We multiplied love.
The post-diluvian passage where God commanded Noah to re-populate the earth ends with God setting a rainbow in the sky: No more world-wide flood, it says, a covenant with "all flesh." In reading it today I remembered the perfect rainbow I saw in my back yard not long after my husband/soulmate Denny died. I sat down to marvel at the supernal arch stretching across the land and sky for miles, and understood it certain reminder of God's covenant with me, my human race, and all living creatures, including the birds, the bugs, and the dogs. There is a presence brooding over this bent bent world. Kingdom of priests, we are translated by our baptism into this life of many colors.
God's Grandeur by Gerard Manley Hopkins
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell; the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs--
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
In my old age it occurred to me: why do people have kids? Why do we bring lives into this world of suffering and evil and death? Even for a dog, I thought: As I held Daisy's little gray corpse in my arms, I cried to the vet, "It doesn't seem worth it!"
But as Gerard Manley Hopkins says, "there lives the dearest freshness deep down things." Some Love at the center of creation wants to extend Himself--and being created in Her image (v. 6), we did multiply fruitfully. We brought into being beings to love, and to suffer for, even to die for. We multiplied love.
The post-diluvian passage where God commanded Noah to re-populate the earth ends with God setting a rainbow in the sky: No more world-wide flood, it says, a covenant with "all flesh." In reading it today I remembered the perfect rainbow I saw in my back yard not long after my husband/soulmate Denny died. I sat down to marvel at the supernal arch stretching across the land and sky for miles, and understood it certain reminder of God's covenant with me, my human race, and all living creatures, including the birds, the bugs, and the dogs. There is a presence brooding over this bent bent world. Kingdom of priests, we are translated by our baptism into this life of many colors.
God's Grandeur by Gerard Manley Hopkins
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell; the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs--
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
Friday, January 11, 2008
What is Truth?
“I think it right...to arouse you by way of reminder....”
2 Peter 1:12-21 I Advent Tuesday (year 2)
Peter writes in the Spirit to readers “established in the present truth,” presenting his thoughts as “a lamp” to sustain us “until day dawns.” That is, we already have the truth and we await the full revealing. And what is that truth? That the Gospel is true!
We are not talking about myths or allegories, Peter assures us: “I was there!”
How would life look today viewed by the lamp that the Gospel is true?
Well, nowadays we fear anyone who says they’ve gotten ahold of truth. Such assertions may get you stereotyped and disrespected. (According to legend, Peter was crucified upside down.)
An old Bible teacher of mine helped me understand the Christian creed as confessional (“I believe”) not a dogmatic (“This is how it is”) statement. But this perspective does not mean “It’s true for me” and whatever you believe is “true for you.” On the contrary, cultures teem with false gods and false religions.
Not to say that other religions don't have truth. Pope John XXIII acknowledged that in some encyclical back in the 60s. And I do think persons are called to God through expression in diverse religions. So how are we to judge what is truth?
Contrary to popular belief, there is something tangible about religious faith: the results. As William James writes, in his pioneering work Varieties of Religious Experience, "Judge by the fruits, not the roots."
I'm pretty sure Jesus said something like that too. (Mt 7:16-19)
2 Peter 1:12-21 I Advent Tuesday (year 2)
Peter writes in the Spirit to readers “established in the present truth,” presenting his thoughts as “a lamp” to sustain us “until day dawns.” That is, we already have the truth and we await the full revealing. And what is that truth? That the Gospel is true!
We are not talking about myths or allegories, Peter assures us: “I was there!”
How would life look today viewed by the lamp that the Gospel is true?
Well, nowadays we fear anyone who says they’ve gotten ahold of truth. Such assertions may get you stereotyped and disrespected. (According to legend, Peter was crucified upside down.)
An old Bible teacher of mine helped me understand the Christian creed as confessional (“I believe”) not a dogmatic (“This is how it is”) statement. But this perspective does not mean “It’s true for me” and whatever you believe is “true for you.” On the contrary, cultures teem with false gods and false religions.
Not to say that other religions don't have truth. Pope John XXIII acknowledged that in some encyclical back in the 60s. And I do think persons are called to God through expression in diverse religions. So how are we to judge what is truth?
Contrary to popular belief, there is something tangible about religious faith: the results. As William James writes, in his pioneering work Varieties of Religious Experience, "Judge by the fruits, not the roots."
I'm pretty sure Jesus said something like that too. (Mt 7:16-19)
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Dissolved
2 Peter 3:11-18 II Advent Thursday (year 2)
“Since all these things are to be dissolved.”
The theologian Hans Kung writes of God’s “Absolute Future”-- the future beyond time that is in God’s hands only. We can't be certain what that future will be like. The certainty we do have is that, as Paul writes, “the world in its present form is passing away (I Cor 7:30-32).” The universe as we know it is finite.
Finitude is something we can’t think about too long. We can’t comprehend it. To function we require a certain amount of denial. Even some of our churches consider it bad form to bring up the fact that this life itself is the “City of Destruction” John Bunyan wrote about in "Pilgrim's Progress."
But Advent is the right time to contemplate our finitude, and to drink deeply from the promises of Parousia. If the form of your life is passing away, if you are sick, if you have lost someone, if you are hurting, if the world is going to hell in a go-cart: these are not signs of God’s abandonment. No, these ills and pains are signs reminders that he is coming back for us.
“Since all these things are to be dissolved.”
The theologian Hans Kung writes of God’s “Absolute Future”-- the future beyond time that is in God’s hands only. We can't be certain what that future will be like. The certainty we do have is that, as Paul writes, “the world in its present form is passing away (I Cor 7:30-32).” The universe as we know it is finite.
Finitude is something we can’t think about too long. We can’t comprehend it. To function we require a certain amount of denial. Even some of our churches consider it bad form to bring up the fact that this life itself is the “City of Destruction” John Bunyan wrote about in "Pilgrim's Progress."
But Advent is the right time to contemplate our finitude, and to drink deeply from the promises of Parousia. If the form of your life is passing away, if you are sick, if you have lost someone, if you are hurting, if the world is going to hell in a go-cart: these are not signs of God’s abandonment. No, these ills and pains are signs reminders that he is coming back for us.
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