The Prelude

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, October 12, 2014

Matthew 22:1-14 NRSV

Once more Jesus spoke to the people in parables, saying: "The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, `Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.' But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, mistreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, `The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.' Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests.

"But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, `Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?' And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, `Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.' For many are called, but few are chosen."

Matthew 22:1-14 The Message

 Jesus responded by telling still more stories. “God’s kingdom,” he said, “is like a king who threw a wedding banquet for his son. He sent out servants to call in all the invited guests. And they wouldn’t come!

4 “He sent out another round of servants, instructing them to tell the guests, ‘Look, everything is on the table, the prime rib is ready for carving. Come to the feast!’

“They only shrugged their shoulders and went off, one to weed his garden, another to work in his shop. The rest, with nothing better to do, beat up on the messengers and then killed them. The king was outraged and sent his soldiers to destroy those thugs and level their city.

“Then he told his servants, ‘We have a wedding banquet all prepared but no guests. The ones I invited weren’t up to it. Go out into the busiest intersections in town and invite anyone you find to the banquet.’ The servants went out on the streets and rounded up everyone they laid eyes on, good and bad, regardless. And so the banquet was on—every place filled.

“When the king entered and looked over the scene, he spotted a man who wasn’t properly dressed. He said to him, ‘Friend, how dare you come in here looking like that!’ The man was speechless. Then the king told his servants, ‘Get him out of here—fast. Tie him up and ship him to hell. And make sure he doesn’t get back in.’

“That’s what I mean when I say, ‘Many get invited; only a few make it.’”

There are so many directions to go with this parable, though I imagine that most people let it go in one ear and out the other because it is so darned unpleasant. Even if we don't spend much time unraveling it, don't we brush it off feeling either vindicated -- we would have Rsvp'd and shown up, with gift in hand at that -- or indicted -- we know we have fallen short, missed opportunities because of our egocentricity, neglected the kindness of others. Why spend time with this icky parable? After all, in the end this God is mean and nasty.

Someone, years ago, in an act of genuine generosity, gave me a copy of the Brick Testament, a depiction of key Bible stories in Lego dioramas. I'd probably told them how much my kids loved/love (yes, I know they are grown) Legos. Or maybe I'd shown them the Lego church, which might be just shy of being one of the wonders of the world, created by someone who was not only creative but had more than enough time on her hands.

Look at this God. This is the only expression his face shows. This is the God who thrown people who don't come to his parties or show up in the wrong outfits into the outer darkness where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth, and he appears most frequently in Matthew's gospel. In fact Luke has a gentler version of this parable, just as his version of the Beatitudes is more palatable. Why does Matthew's community lean toward this interpretation of the parable, this more damning version of God?

We need to remember that they were experiencing a particularly difficult set of conflicts. These were the Jewish Christians still living among an increasingly Gentile church. Even though the Jerusalem compromise had been worked out decades earlier, in which the apostles decreed that a Gentile did not need to become a Jew -- i.e., be circumcised -- in order to become a Christian, there remained two strands of this family, and all was not peaceful. There must have been great pain as these faithful Jewish Christians watched their numbers dwindle and as they felt alienation from their Jewish families and friends.

Where is the gospel in this parable? Once we sift out the historical context, we get in touch with Jesus' reason for telling it. Remember, he was speaking to the Temple authorities, Jews who were not about to accept that they were in the presence of the incarnate God, let alone that they were on the brink of crucifying the Messiah, for whom they had been waiting. Jesus is speaking to the very ones who snub the invitation of the king. Jesus, in the topsy turvy form of a parable, is inviting them not to miss this opportunity, this gift of radical acceptance and hospitality. He is inviting them to give up their sense of superiority, their illusion of control.

This is the time of year when most churches are preaching stewardship in hopes of funding their budget for the coming year. I think most parishioners are wary of this time of year. The challenge of this parable at this time is to find in it the invitation to become a more mature Christian, to let go of what holds us back from becoming the radically generous image of God that we are created to be. It is a parable of hospitality with the recognition that hospitality is the responsibility of the one who accepts it as well as the one who offers it.

I'm reminded of a lovely story that was in the news a couple of years ago. For a reason I don't remember, a bride canceled her wedding too close to the date to receive any sort of refunds from the venue or the caterers. Her family decided to proceed with the lavish banquet, only they invited the city's homeless population.

The long and the short is that God, the host, invites everyone. If we hold back, and we do hold back, we cheat ourselves from the greatest gift. (more to come...)

Illustrations
1. Cicely Mary Parker, 1935
2. The Wedding Banquet/Peasant Wedding, Pieter Breugel the Elder, 1567
3. Abston Church of Christ by Amy Hughes
4. The Brick Testament by Brendan Powell Smith
5. New York Daily News, September 23, 2013

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, September 28, 2014

Matthew 21:23-32 NRSV

When Jesus entered the temple, the chief priests and the elders of the people came to him as he was teaching, and said, "By what authority are you doing these things, and who gave you this authority?" Jesus said to them, "I will also ask you one question; if you tell me the answer, then I will also tell you by what authority I do these things. Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?" And they argued with one another, "If we say, `From heaven,' he will say to us, `Why then did you not believe him?' But if we say, `Of human origin,' we are afraid of the crowd; for all regard John as a prophet." So they answered Jesus, "We do not know." And he said to them, "Neither will I tell you by what authority I am doing these things.
"What do you think? A man had two sons; he went to the first and said, `Son, go and work in the vineyard today.' He answered, `I will not'; but later he changed his mind and went. The father went to the second and said the same; and he answered, `I go, sir'; but he did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?" They said, "The first." Jesus said to them, "Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him; and even after you saw it, you did not change your minds and believe him."

Matthew 21:23-32The Message

Then he was back in the Temple, teaching. The high priests and leaders of the people came up and demanded, “Show us your credentials. Who authorized you to teach here?”

Jesus responded, “First let me ask you a question. You answer my question and I’ll answer yours. About the baptism of John—who authorized it: heaven or humans?”
They were on the spot and knew it. They pulled back into a huddle and whispered, “If we say ‘heaven,’ he’ll ask us why we didn’t believe him; if we say ‘humans,’ we’re up against it with the people because they all hold John up as a prophet.” They decided to concede that round to Jesus. “We don’t know,” they answered.
Jesus said, “Then neither will I answer your question.

“Tell me what you think of this story: A man had two sons. He went up to the first and said, ‘Son, go out for the day and work in the vineyard.’

“The son answered, ‘I don’t want to.’ Later on he thought better of it and went.
“The father gave the same command to the second son. He answered, ‘Sure, glad to.’ But he never went.
“Which of the two sons did what the father asked?”
They said, “The first.”
Jesus said, “Yes, and I tell you that crooks and whores are going to precede you into God’s kingdom. John came to you showing you the right road. You turned up your noses at him, but the crooks and whores believed him. Even when you saw their changed lives, you didn’t care enough to change and believe him.

I was told by my CPE supervisor that I had issues with authority. I was dumbfounded. I was always the goody-two-shoes little girl. Pretty much I am a poster child for obedience. Probably boringly so. I do not, as a rule, challenge authority. It took me a while to figure out what he was telling me. It was not that I had issues with respecting authority. It was that I had problems accepting my own authority. That was a pivotal moment in my life.

Whenever I work with seminarians who are doing their field work with me, authority is a huge issue. Some of them come so loaded with a sense of authority that they challenge me at every turn. As a rule, these are people who have crowned themselves with authority rather than earning it from others. True authority always comes from beyond oneself. It is a gift that is earned from elders and mentors and from those we serve and teach. The seminarians who have been the best priests have always been the ones who accept the cloak of authority with humility and who wear it lightly. They come to an understanding that they wear this cloak for the sake of those who look to them for wisdom, for the word of God that flows through them.

The high priests and leaders confront Jesus asking the source of his authority. Once more he refuses to give them a clear and direct answer. He could have easily say, "My authority comes directly from my Father, the God of the universe, you jerks." But he doesn't. He pulls them into quicksand. How about John's authority? Where does it come from? They are wise enough to know that it is lose/lose for them. My spin on this is that if they had been watching -- and they have been watching -- as Jesus has healed the sick and raised the dead and fed thousands without much to begin with, they would know that only God could be the source of his authority. If they had been listening they would have known that he was preaching the truth. And they don't like the truth because it surpasses the source of their presumed authority.

Embedded in the word 'authority' is the word 'author.' And here is an interesting dynamic. Authority is given by those above us who grant us their approval to move forward and those whom we serve and teach. It is a pivotal point of being, a delicate balance, and I believe that each of us has some sort of authority. Think of the petulant child who says, "You are not the boss of me." Usually we are the boss of him or her. But there are those moments and those situations where we are in balance. And I think those are the moments when we become authors. We have received wisdom and we are given the responsibility to share it. We are the storytellers, and the story we are telling is ours to tell.

I was listening to one of my favorite teachers discussing the difference between change and transformation. Jesus was all about transformation. Change, she says, is when we take on something new. The new house changes us. The new vocation changes us. The new friends or car or recipe changes us. Transformation, on the other hand, has more to do with letting go of what is not essential. What does this have to do with authority? I think we find ourselves most in balance with our appropriate authority when we let go of the false self, the ego that always needs a little polishing and pumping up. Authority, which I believe God intends for each of us, has to do with our locating our worth in the truth of who we are as created in the image of God.
And God has given every one of us a unique story to tell, but that we can't tell until the dust falls away.











THE PRELUDE for Sunday, September 21, 2014

Matthew 20:1-16 NRSV

Jesus said, "The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o'clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; and he said to them, `You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.' So they went. When he went out again about noon and about three o'clock, he did the same. And about five o'clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, `Why are you standing here idle all day?' They said to him, `Because no one has hired us.' He said to them, `You also go into the vineyard.' When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, `Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.' When those hired about five o'clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, `These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.' But he replied to one of them, `Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?' So the last will be first, and the first will be last."

Matthew 20:1-16The Message

 “God’s kingdom is like an estate manager who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. They agreed on a wage of a dollar a day, and went to work.

“Later, about nine o’clock, the manager saw some other men hanging around the town square unemployed. He told them to go to work in his vineyard and he would pay them a fair wage. They went.
“He did the same thing at noon, and again at three o’clock. At five o’clock he went back and found still others standing around. He said, ‘Why are you standing around all day doing nothing?’ “They said, ‘Because no one hired us.’
“He told them to go to work in his vineyard.
“When the day’s work was over, the owner of the vineyard instructed his foreman, ‘Call the workers in and pay them their wages. Start with the last hired and go on to the first.’
 “Those hired at five o’clock came up and were each given a dollar. When those who were hired first saw that, they assumed they would get far more. But they got the same, each of them one dollar. Taking the dollar, they groused angrily to the manager, ‘These last workers put in only one easy hour, and you just made them equal to us, who slaved all day under a scorching sun.’
 “He replied to the one speaking for the rest, ‘Friend, I haven’t been unfair. We agreed on the wage of a dollar, didn’t we? So take it and go. I decided to give to the one who came last the same as you. Can’t I do what I want with my own money? Are you going to get stingy because I am generous?’
“Here it is again, the Great Reversal: many of the first ending up last, and the last first.”

I think this parable gets a rise out of most of us. I've led Bible studies where the whole class is up in arms, saying, "It's not fair!" We cast ourselves in the role of the guys who have been out in the vineyard sweating all day long for just enough money to feed our family dinner, and here come these folks who only put in a couple of hours of work. If they get paid what the manager promised us, shouldn't we get proportionately more?

Jesus begins the parable with the words, "The kingdom is like an estate manager..." We know enough about management to declare that this is a bad manager. The thing about management is that it is the practice of getting the maximum payoff for the least amount of resources. This parable follows a discussion of forgiveness, which is difficult for all of us. When we forgive it feels, if we are the slighted or cheated or betrayed or hurt one, as if the perpetrator is getting off scot free. We live in a world that expects that tit for tat is only fair, that sees through the lens of a zero sum game. The more you take, the less I get.

Once again the parable sets us up with a set of expectations and then pulls the rug out from under us. The kingdom of God does not operate on our rules. We don't get to say who gets paid what, who gets invited to the party, who gets forgiven, or who is beloved. In short, God's system is not like our system, but when we stop and think about what we are really entitled to, we are way more like the guys who come on at 5:00 than the ones who think they have done more than their share. We are the recipients of the grace of a God who loves us stupidly, like this manager.

 

Every time I read this parable I'm reminded of a film that made a huge impression on me the first time I saw it, which was quite a long time ago. Heather Courtney made a documentary about the workers at the Austin Day Labor Site. It is called Los Trabadajores. These are men from Mexico and Central America, undocumented, who take enormous risks to provide for their families at home. They live in apartments, more men to an apartment than we would find comfortable, and they feed themselves cheaply, and every morning they go to the Day Labor Site in hopes of getting work. They send the bulk of their money home to feed their families, to provide uniforms and tuition so their children can get an education. They look hopefully at the pick up trucks that come looking for people to work construction and landscaping. They have set up rules that they abide by, and they don't allow big-hearted people to bring bring them food at the site because that attracts the homeless, who frequently abuse the neighborhood. The lucky ones get work and get paid. Sadly, it is not unusual for them to work all day and then get stiffed or cheated, and because they are undocumented, they have no avenue to protest, other than that they keep track of the managers who stiff them.

The men in the parable are like these day laborers. They are living subsistence level lives. They know to expect the least, but the Kingdom is not about the least. It is about blessing and abundance.  What is difficult for us is to trust God's blessing, to see it despite the zero sum rules of this world. Here Jesus is with these people, and not only is he telling them what the Kingdom is like, but he is telling them that they are already in the presence and reality of the Kingdom. Every last one of them is the guy who came on at 5:00 and got a full day's wages, and so are we.






1. Look around for these laborers. Where do you see them? Imagine that you desperately need work to feed your family one meal at a time. Does that change anything for you?
2. Look around for something that is unfair in a good way.
3. Can you see a parable in your world? Something that shows you the presence and reality of the Kingdom because it is out of synch with the way the world is supposed to work?
4. How have you been blessed beyond your deserving?



Images
1. The Laborers in the Vineyard by Jacob Willemszoon de Wet, mid C17
2. The Laborers in the Vineyard by Rembrandt, 1637
3. Unidentified Google image
4. The Laborers in the Vineyard, Byzantine, C11







OK, so here's what happened. I worked really hard on last week's Prelude. I really liked it. (Right now I wish I could remember what I said!) But for some reason Blogger was unable to post it. I got a notice that said to try again later. So I went to bed, and when I came up to my study in the morning, my computer had done something and had to restart in the night = erase my hard work. Now, just to make it sadder. Yesterday I put a lot of effort into this week's (Sept. 21) Prelude, and the thunderstorm knocked out our power = erase my hard work. So I'm back at square one, just a tad frustrated. That's what happened.



The computer lost the Prelude for this week, and I'm leaving to see grandchildren in Dallas for the weekend. I'm crushed and sorry. The subject of grace and forgiveness is huge. There is nothing bigger. So until I can try to recreate what I wrote last night I offer one of my favorite episodes of Northern Exposure. Enjoy and ponder in light of this week's gospel reading. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qw6aS2wjpzA






THE PRELUDE for Sunday, September 7, 2014

Matthew 18:15-20 NRSV

Jesus said, "If another member of the church sins against you, go and point out the fault when the two of you are alone. If the member listens to you, you have regained that one. But if you are not listened to, take one or two others along with you, so that every word may be confirmed by the evidence of two or three witnesses. If the member refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector. Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven. Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them."

Matthew 18:15-20The Message (MSG)

^15-17 “If a fellow believer hurts you, go and tell him—work it out between the two of you. If he listens, you’ve made a friend. If he won’t listen, take one or two others along so that the presence of witnesses will keep things honest, and try again. If he still won’t listen, tell the church. If he won’t listen to the church, you’ll have to start over from scratch, confront him with the need for repentance, and offer again God’s forgiving love.
^18-20 “Take this most seriously: A yes on earth is yes in heaven; a no on earth is no in heaven. What you say to one another is eternal. I mean this. When two of you get together on anything at all on earth and make a prayer of it, my Father in heaven goes into action. And when two or three of you are together because of me, you can be sure that I’ll be there.”

 If you tell me that this passage doesn't strike a chord with you, I probably won't believe you. In my experience forgiveness is the one spiritual issue that is most troublesome to everybody I have ever met. 
I admit to having my own problems with it, but even so, even as I struggle with it, I have seen over and over again others who are burdened by anger, resentment, woundedness. People do hurt each other intentionally and unintentionally. There are real mean girls in the world, of both genders. And there are stupid people, which includes most of us I'm afraid. 

In the narrative arc of Matthew's gospel this passage comes soon after Peter's confession that Jesus is the messiah of God and the Transfiguration. Huge things have happened. The game has been changed. The dimensions of the action are enormous, but this passage very nearly whispers. Jesus is speaking to the dark little secrets of our hearts. He is giving scrutiny to the mundane. What do you do when someone wrongs you? When someone wounds you? He gives us steps one, two, three, and four. Plain and simple.

There was a time when someone hurt me viciously, intentionally. A dear friend. A member of my parish. I wish I had followed these steps. I guess I did in sort of a sloppy, unconscious way, but nothing came of it. My priest did not stand up for me. I heard a lot of "Well, there are two sides to everything." That was salt in the wound. The wound has healed, but there is a visible scar.

What rings for me in this passage is the profound incarnationality of it. Jesus has been recognized as the messiah of God, has told Peter et al that he is going to be crucified, has taken them up the mountain to see God's glory in his person, and now talks to them about the nitty gritty of down and dirty human relationships. But. When two or three are gathered he will be present. He doesn't promise them that they will avoid pain or that steps one, two, three, or four will take care of things. It won't ever be neat and tidy. But he will be there. And he will love them. He will recognize them as heirs of the kingdom, created in the image of God, whole and beautiful and deserving.

Forgiveness is not an act of the will. We cannot flip a switch and make it happen. It is more like faith. It is slippery. It grows. It trips us up. It is a grace. It is given by God. Again and again and again. We cannot achieve it. We cannot earn it. We can only rest in it and rejoice in the moments when it shines through and enlightens us. And when it slips away from us, we need to rest assured that it was not of our making and that it will be returned to us, and that every time we live into it we will grow more in our Christ-likeness.






























Coventry Cathedral, bombed out after World War II.



  To accept forgiveness means to admit that you’ve done something wrong that needs to be forgiven . . . When somebody you’ve wronged forgives you, you’re spared the dull and self-diminishing throb of a guilty conscience.
When you forgive somebody who has wronged you, you’re spared the dismal corrosion of bitterness and wounded pride.
For both parties, forgiveness means the freedom again to be at peace inside their own skins and to be glad in each other’s presence.

THE PRELUDE  for Sunday, August 31, 2014

Matthew 16:21-28 NRSV

Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, "God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you." But he turned and said to Peter, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."
Then Jesus told his disciples, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?
"For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom."

Matthew 16:21-28The Message

 Then Jesus made it clear to his disciples that it was now necessary for him to go to Jerusalem, submit to an ordeal of suffering at the hands of the religious leaders, be killed, and then on the third day be raised up alive. Peter took him in hand, protesting, “Impossible, Master! That can never be!”

But Jesus didn’t swerve. “Peter, get out of my way. Satan, get lost. You have no idea how God works.”
Then Jesus went to work on his disciples. “Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self. What kind of deal is it to get everything you want but lose yourself? What could you ever trade your soul for?
“Don’t be in such a hurry to go into business for yourself. Before you know it the Son of Man will arrive with all the splendor of his Father, accompanied by an army of angels. You’ll get everything you have coming to you, a personal gift. This isn’t pie in the sky by and by. Some of you standing here are going to see it take place, see the Son of Man in kingdom glory.”

Exodus 3:1-15

3Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. ²There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. ³Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’ ⁴When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ ⁵Then he said, ‘Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’ ⁶He said further, ‘I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.’ And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.
7 Then the Lord said, ‘I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, ⁸and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. ⁹The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. ¹⁰So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.’ ¹¹But Moses said to God, ‘Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?’ ¹²He said, ‘I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.’
13 But Moses said to God, ‘If I come to the Israelites and say to them, “The God of your ancestors has sent me to you”, and they ask me, “What is his name?” what shall I say to them?’ ¹⁴God said to Moses, ‘I am who I am.’^* He said further, ‘Thus you shall say to the Israelites, “I am has sent me to you.” ’ ¹⁵God also said to Moses, ‘Thus you shall say to the Israelites, “The Lord,^* the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you”:
This is my name for ever,
and this my title for all generations. 

 

Exodus 3:1-15 The Message

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, "I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up." When the LORD saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, "Moses, Moses!" And he said, "Here I am." Then he said, "Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground." He said further, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.
Then the LORD said, "I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt." But Moses said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?" He said, "I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain."
But Moses said to God, "If I come to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,' and they ask me, 'What is his name?' what shall I say to them?" God said to Moses, "I AM Who I AM." He said further, "Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'I AM has sent me to you.'" God also said to Moses, "Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'The LORD, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you':

This is my name forever,

and this my title for all generations."

Here’s something that has never occurred to me before. What is the difference between a burning bush and a cross to be carried? For starters, neither one was part of anyone's Plan A. I remember an assignment in Philosophy 101 to cast a vision of the good life. I was 19 years old. There was neither a burning bush nor a cross in my imagined good life. My idea of a good life – remember I was among the first wave of baby boomers – was frighteningly similar to Leave it to Beaver, or maybe even more like Father Knows Best. I was pretty young when I recognized the harsh truth that my household looked very little like Father Knows Best. I wanted that dad, the one who was reasonable and wise and who would call me Kitten, and I think my father wanted to be that dad, but he had bipolar disorder, a disease he did not ask for and did not deserve, and it more or less that meant that he was incapable of being the grown-up in our household. Sadly, my mother could not either. I don’t know how old I was when I stepped into that role. Very imperfectly, but very much too young to shoulder it. Was it a burning bush or a cross to bear? 

This passage of Matthew's gospel is difficult. It is troubling in several ways. It is difficult for me because I tend to identify with Peter, who has just had a glimpse of the truth, that Jesus is indeed the Messiah of God. Hope is standing right before his eyes. Hope that the world had a means of becoming the world it should have been, a world not dominated by suffering, injustice, hunger, and oppression. Hope that the Kingdom of God was real and present. I imagine that for that instant Peter was believing that Father Knows Best had come true and that he and his compadres and all the suffering people of Galilee would instantly have the good life. But Jesus dashes his hopes. Essentially he tells  him, "Bingo! You have recognized the truth, so now we can get about the business of walking straight towards getting executed." How could Peter have not protested?

This passage is troubling because when Jesus says that his disciples must deny themselves, pick up their cross and follow him, he is the only one among them who has the faintest idea of what that means. If, indeed, even he knew what it meant. This is one of those places when we must remember, as Marcus Borg has taught, that the gospel was written by people with post-Easter eyes.  There is no way for them to have told the story or for us to hear the story without knowing both the crucifixion and the Resurrection, and this line makes sense only in light of that knowledge. I, personally, wonder whether these were the words actually spoken by Jesus or if they were the thought translated by the knowledge of the evangelist.

And this passage is troubling because it has been used to convey a theology in which suffering is desired by God, whether we are talking about Jesus' suffering or our own. It has been quoted to justify oppression and cruelty. It is this vision that gives us the theology, all too prevalent, that God is the source of suffering and tragedy. It gives us the theology of a sadistic God.

What is our cross, then, if not a malignant burden that we take up to satisfy that God? It is the symbol that we stand for something truer than the empire that believes it owns the world. It is our declaration that we live by the reality that kindness, generosity, peace, forgiveness, and humility will create the Kingdom. And seen that way, is it not like the burning bush? It makes no sense. It defies the laws of logic and nature, and it calls to us to be someone who, without God, without Jesus, we would never believe we could be.

Moses is called by God into a ministry that will be far from easy. He has the sense to try to argue God out of it, but in the end he relents and trusts God (mostly). There is a dark side to any burning bush as there is to taking up our cross and following Jesus. There is a real cost to us. In the appalling video below it is evident that Victoria Osteen doesn't get that. What a shame it is that the thousands who believe that what she says is gospel are being cheated of the true gift of the gospel.

A video clip by Victoria Osteen:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E68aoHbYLv0

I truly believe that God does want us to be more than happy. God wants us to know the joy of living for something far larger than ourselves, whether that is conveyed by a burning bush or taking up the true cross. 

1. Can you channel Peter? What are the emotions that run through him/you? Really try to get into his skin. How difficult is it for you to accept what Jesus is saying?
2. What are the consequences?
3. Have you ever prayed for a burning bush? Why? How did it feel?
4. Have you ever received a burning bush? What experience in your life was most like that?
5. When have you denied yourself and picked up your cross? What were the consequences?
6. Can you imagine doing that again?

Images
1. Jesus Carrying his Cross at Google Images
2. Sculpture by Charles Umlauf
3. Cartoon, Agnus Day, at Google Images
4. Stained glass window, Jerusalem Stone by Sam Nachum
5. Moses and the Burning Bush by Chagall
6. Moses and the Burning Bush, National Shrine of the Sacred Heart, Washington, DC.

 

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, August 24, 2014

Matthew 16:13-20 NRSV

When Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, "Who do people say that the Son of Man is?" And they said, "Some say John the Baptist, but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets." He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?" Simon Peter answered, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." And Jesus answered him, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.

Matthew 16:13-20 The Message

When Jesus arrived in the villages of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “What are people saying about who the Son of Man is?”

They replied, “Some think he is John the Baptizer, some say Elijah, some Jeremiah or one of the other prophets.”
He pressed them, “And how about you? Who do you say I am?”
Simon Peter said, “You’re the Christ, the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”
Jesus came back, “God bless you, Simon, son of Jonah! You didn’t get that answer out of books or from teachers. My Father in heaven, God himself, let you in on this secret of who I really am. And now I’m going to tell you who you are, really are. You are Peter, a rock. This is the rock on which I will put together my church, a church so expansive with energy that not even the gates of hell will be able to keep it out.
“And that’s not all. You will have complete and free access to God’s kingdom, keys to open any and every door: no more barriers between heaven and earth, earth and heaven. A yes on earth is yes in heaven. A no on earth is no in heaven.”
He swore the disciples to secrecy. He made them promise they would tell no one that he was the Messiah.

 

 I'm fascinated by Peter, and this is one place where the spotlight shines brightly on him. We already know him to be impetuous, ingenuous, not always wise, but his heart in the right place even if it leads him down the wrong path. He can't hold back what his heart knows to be true. "You are the messiah of God." In Matthew's gospel Jesus jumps on this truth before Peter can backpedal. He gives him the keys of the kingdom. He names him the rock on which the church is founded.

I'm certain Peter is overwhelmed. He knows that he is not worthy, that he is more wave than rock, but Jesus has invested in him. It is daunting. Jesus has given him the power to bind or loose. How on earth can he handle that? He knows he is inadequate. I feel certain that he is at once inflated and distraught. I think the reason that we are fascinated with Peter is that we can imagine being in his skin.

When I meditate on this story, it is as if I go straight to Christmas Eve and the mystery of the Incarnation. My theology and spirituality is profoundly incarnational. Oh, my gosh, God is a human being, and he is a baby, and he is a man, and he loves and eats and argues and hurts and blesses and dies and won't stay dead, and it is all so that we can learn two things. #1. Who God is and how desperately he loves us. #2. Who we are and what we are capable of being if we will only put our faith in God and not ourselves and what God wants in his heart of hearts for all of us. #3. I know I said there were two. But bear with me. Peace. True peace. Being able to hold ourselves still in the pure, warm light of God's love. Jesus knows full well that Peter is going to screw up. His confession that Jesus is the messiah of God is precisely where the gospel turns from the narrative trajectory of revealing who he is through teachings and miracles and healings to the journey toward the cross. This is more than any of the disciples can handle, and we have to remember that everything that was written about this was written from the perspective of the Resurrection and the early church as it struggled to stay alive.

We, as fallible as we are, are the rock on which Jesus builds his church. We are it. He is not looking for better, smarter, richer people than we are. All we have to do is articulate who he is. We can stop people on the sidewalk and confess to them, but it won't count nearly as much as what we preach with our actions and our choices. And I do want say that sometimes it is very important to tell people why we do what we do and make the choices we make. These lovely people sometimes need that.

And we are the ones to whom he gives the keys and the power to bind or loose. The thing is, though, that the first ones we have to bind and loose are ourselves. Jesus endows us with the burden of choice. Choose and commit to what is vital, let go of that which is lifeless. Discernment is a moving target. We are not always right. But Jesus trusts us, even if we are going to make mistakes, and he knows full well we will.

The keys to the kingdom? I think Jesus hands us those keys knowing that we can lock the doors and keep out the folks we don't want there, but with the enduring hope that we will open our hearts to his way of loving and invite everyone into the kingdom. That we will not take that power to ourselves, and that we will grow in becoming more Christlike by holding the keys and not using them the way our spiteful hearts would tend to. 

Peter, in the gospels, is the screw-up, and we know that we are, too. But imagine holding those keys. Imagine being told that you are the rock on which the church is founded. You are the only hope that Jesus has of letting the confused, messed up, messing up people of the world know that God loves them desperately for who they are, screw-ups, every last one of them. Screw-ups, every last one of us. But that we are God's best, last hope. I don't know about you, but Peter went for broke, and I'm going for broke, and I sure do hope you are too, because we can't do it without you. You are God's best beloved, like it or not. 

When I meditate on this story, it is as if I go straight to Christmas Eve and the mystery of the Incarnation. My theology and spirituality is profoundly incarnational. Oh, my gosh, God is a human being, and he is a baby, and he is a man, and he loves and eats and argues and hurts and blesses and dies and won't stay dead, and it is all so that we can learn two things. #1. Who God is and how desperately he loves us. #2. Who we are and what we are capable of being if we will only put our faith in God and not ourselves and what God wants in his heart of hearts for all of us. #3. I know I said there were two. But bear with me. Peace. True peace. Being able to hold ourselves still in the pure, warm light of God's love.
.



1. Think of what you know about Peter. Can you identify with him? In what ways?
2. How do you feel about the fact that Peter was one of Jesus' most beloved friends?
3. Why do you think Jesus trusts Peter so fully, even when he knows his foibles?
4. Who do you say that Jesus is? Clue, just saying the messiah, the son of God is not sufficient. What do you mean when you say that?
5. So what? I mean, other than words, what does that mean for the world? What does it mean for you?

Images:
1. Jesus giving the keys to Peter, Master of the Legend of the Holy Prior, 1470
2. Statue of Peter in courtyard of Basilica of St. Peter, Vatican City, Rome.
3. Jesus handing the keys to Peter by Perugino, Sistine Chapel, Basilica of St. Peter, Vatican, 1481-83, a fresco.
4. Mills-Kronberg collection of Danish wall paintings, Princeton Universary
5. 18th Century Greek icon
All images are found at Google images.














THE PRELUDE for Sunday, August 17, 2014

Matthew 15:21-28

Jesus left Gennesaret and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon." But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, "Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us." He answered, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she came and knelt before him, saying, "Lord, help me." He answered, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." She said, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table." Then Jesus answered her, "Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish." And her daughter was healed instantly.

Matthew 15:21-28The Message (MSG)

From there Jesus took a trip to Tyre and Sidon. They had hardly arrived when a Canaanite woman came down from the hills and pleaded, “Mercy, Master, Son of David! My daughter is cruelly afflicted by an evil spirit.”

Jesus ignored her. The disciples came and complained, “Now she’s bothering us. Would you please take care of her? She’s driving us crazy.”

Jesus refused, telling them, “I’ve got my hands full dealing with the lost sheep of Israel.”

Then the woman came back to Jesus, went to her knees, and begged. “Master, help me.”

He said, “It’s not right to take bread out of children’s mouths and throw it to dogs.”

She was quick: “You’re right, Master, but beggar dogs do get scraps from the master’s table.”

Jesus gave in. “Oh, woman, your faith is something else. What you want is what you get!” Right then her daughter became well.

I used to think that parables were simply a handful of stories that Jesus told to make a point, a clever teaching device that would lead his listeners to more closely understand who he was or what the kingdom of God was all about. I've come to think that those are only one form of parable. In addition to the parables Jesus told there are parables that Jesus lived, and this is where just about anything in the gospels can become parable. My definition of a parable is that it is a narrative unit that is too slippery to be contained within its frame and that flips our idea of what we know about God and Jesus on its head. If we're listening to a parable at some point we are going to shout NO! We know how things are and this is just flat wrong. If a story does that to you, it is a parable and it is meant to open your eyes to a reality you hadn't accepted.

The story of the Canaanite woman fits the bill. This isn't the Jesus we have come to love, the one we think we know. This is a story that breaks all boundaries. She is a gentile, a woman, and her daughter is demon possessed. She doesn't belong anywhere near any Jew, let alone Jesus. But wait -- he's on her turf. She throws herself at his feet and pleas for a healing. She calls him Son of David. The disciples have mouthed the words, but they don't know who he is like she does, even though they have seen him raise a child from the dead, heal the blind and lame, feed thousands with no food, and walk on water. She has only heard, but she knows.

But, darn, Jesus is rude. For me this is the slipperiest part of the story. My Jesus, my sweet, all-loving Jesus just would never be this rude. You can read all the commentaries and listen to most preachers and they will try to explain this away. Some of them say Jesus knew he was going to healer but he wanted to test her faith. Or, no. Jesus didn't mean it. No. If we let ourselves think that Jesus could change, well, that opens up all sorts of other issues. What about his omniscience? If he doesn't know everything, how can he be fully divine? If Jesus can be a bigot, what hope is there for us?

He calls her a dog. That was like calling her the N word. Wrong. And it expresses a sense of superiority, that the other is less than fully human. Wrong.

I can't make this part of the story right. I can't make all the pieces fit. They just are what they are. And maybe their purpose is to knock us off center so that we can find our true center.

But I remember -- and I think Matthew intends us to remember -- the temple authority who threw himself at Jesus' feet just as this woman does, to save his little girl's life. This woman is the shadow of Jairus. I can't tell you if Jesus actually changed, but if we take this story seriously, we have to allow ourselves to be changed by it.

This woman is OTHER in every dimension, and when Jesus heals her child and affirms her faith, he opens the door to everyone. Which means that we don't get to dictate who is on the guest list. Which means that faith is not measured by our church attendance or our education or our voting record or our righteousness. 

Faith isn't simply determination. It isn't just believing that Jesus can do miracles. It isn't a whole lot of other things that televangelists and others will tell you it is. It is certainly not something we can get more of by doing anything, and lack of it does not account for the tragedies of our lives. And it does not trump good sense. 

This woman is a picture of faith, so all I know to do with this parable is to ask what do I see when I look at her. I see certain knowledge, despite what she is told by society, that she and her daughter are fully human, that whatever it is that God loves in his creatures burns as brightly in them as it does in the Jewish priest who tends to the holy of holies. That they are worthy of healing and of being respected and beloved by the Son of David.

But then I turn from an exegesis of faith and ask, what about love? How can we ever be in a fully loving relationship and not be open to change, open to learning from our beloved? If God is unchangeable, how can God ever truly be in a loving relationship with us? We know from our human relationships that when we open ourselves to love, we become vulnerable. I'm seeing this parable with new eyes. I'm seeing that Jesus is shifting from being authoritarian to being open to change, and that he is allowing a woman who is utterly other, who is seen in the eyes of the establishment, particularly the orthodox Temple establishment, to be without worth to be the agent of opening his heart. And if she can open Jesus' heart, who, then, can open ours?

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, August 10, 2014

Matthew 14:22-33

Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, "It is a ghost!" And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."
Peter answered him, "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water." He said, "Come." So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, "Lord, save me!" Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."

Matthew 14:22-33The Message (MSG)

As soon as the meal was finished, [Jesus] insisted that the disciples get in the boat and go on ahead to the other side while he dismissed the people. With the crowd dispersed, he climbed the mountain so he could be by himself and pray. He stayed there alone, late into the night.

Meanwhile, the boat was far out to sea when the wind came up against them and they were battered by the waves. At about four o’clock in the morning, Jesus came toward them walking on the water. They were scared out of their wits. “A ghost!” they said, crying out in terror.

But Jesus was quick to comfort them. “Courage, it’s me. Don’t be afraid.”

Peter, suddenly bold, said, “Master, if it’s really you, call me to come to you on the water.”

He said, “Come ahead.”

Jumping out of the boat, Peter walked on the water to Jesus. But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, “Master, save me!”

Jesus didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand. Then he said, “Faint-heart, what got into you?”

The two of them climbed into the boat, and the wind died down. The disciples in the boat, having watched the whole thing, worshiped Jesus, saying, “This is it! You are God’s Son for sure!”

I remember a sermon on this story that I preached early in my ordained ministry. There was a time when every summer, when the heat became unbearable, which was typically right about now, I would make a practice of reading books about very cold places. It was summertime when I read The Shipping News, Smilla's Sense of Snow, The Voyage of the Narwhal, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, etc. (I highly recommend each of these books, if you are looking for something good to read.) That particular summer I was obsessed with the adventures of Ernest Shackelton, who led a group of intrepid adventurers on a voyage to reach the South Pole. I read about the Endurance everywhere I could -- books and websites -- and watched a number of videos about it. I was enthralled. Whether it made the Texas head more endurable is not certain.

Supposedly Shackleton ran and ad it the London Times in 1900 that read, "Men wanted for hazardous journey. Low wages, bitter cold, long hours of complete darkness. Safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in event of success." Who on earth would respond to such an ad?

I'm more than ten years further along in my life and ministry now, recently retired from a parish I loved more than I can express, and I can tell you for certain that even though I loved them will all my heart and miss them terribly, there were plenty of storms along the way, and that I do not miss at all the conflict, which was usually the result of people allowing their inner sixth-graders to freely express themselves, nor do I miss the administrative gordian knots. Despite the gracious plenty times of good winds and clear skies, there were still the times when it was a hazardous journey, low wages, bitter cold (rarely in a physical sense), and complete darkness.  Such is life.

This metaphor is not solely apt for ordained ministry. It is appropriate for the ministry for which each of us was ordained in our baptism. If we take our ordination into the body of Christ seriously, we will all face such stormy  times. Aren't we challenged by the words of the prophet Stephen Colbert, "“If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don't want to do it.”? 

I'm writing this Prelude on a cloudy morning in the mountains of North Carolina. Our windows are open, and we have no air conditioning running. We had dinner with good friends last night, and are as relaxed and comfortable as we have ever been, surrounded by beauty. We haven't turned on a TV since we got here two weeks ago, but we see the news online, and my heart breaks for the children who are thronging to our borders for asylum, for the people of Iraq, of both Israel and Palestine. There is such pain and suffering in the world, and we cannot ignore it. I don't have an easy answer to any of these humanitarian issues, and feel largely helpless in the face of the enormity of them, but that does not mean that I am exempt from looking at them through a lens of Christian responsibility. 

As soon as Jesus and the disciples had tidied up after the feeding of the 5000, Jesus compelled the disciples to get into a boat and go to the other side of the sea, where he promised he would catch up to them. He is tired. He needs time to pray, so he goes to the place where he meets God, the mountain. Several chapters earlier he had been asleep in the boat when a storm came up. The disciples wakened him and said, "Don't you care about us? Look at this storm. It's going to kill us. Can't you do something?" and he raised his hand, as God had raised his hand over the waters of chaos in the creation, as Moses had raised his hand to part the waters of the Red Sea, and he calmed the storm. The disciples said, "Who is this, that even the wild winds and waters obey his command?"

The crazy thing is that six chapters later they are still asking the same question: Who is this? Who are you anyway?

They were up close and personal with Jesus. They were at his side night and day except for these rare moments when he claimed some alone time with God. They watched him heal lepers and blind people. They watched him calm storms and feed thousands with next to no food. they watched him raise a little girl from the dead. And still they asked, "Who are you?" Over and over again they get a glimpse of who he is, but in no time at all they lose their grip on it and are left to ask the same question the next time he astonishes by showing them who he is.

Peter is the one who will, in two chapters, answer Jesus' question directly. Jesus asks, "Who do you say that I am." Peter will reply, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." The funny thing is that he pretty nearly says the same thing here, after seeing Jesus stride over the top of the billowing waves. "Truly you are the Son of God." How does this truth slip away so easily?

The thing is that it doesn't matter a hoot who Jesus is if that doesn't have some impact on who we are. I love how the author Kathleen Norris answers when she is asked whether she is a Christian. "I don't know," she says. "You tell me how I'm doing." You all pretty much know how I feel about the Evangelical church's claim that all it takes to be a Christian is the confession of one's personal acknowledgment of Jesus as Lord and Savior. The question with which I respond is "So what?"

Peter steps out onto the waves and for a minute he is walking on them just like Jesus. For a minute he knows not only who Jesus is but who he is because he gets it. And then he forgets and falls. But Jesus picks him up to follow another day, to have another crack at it. 

I'm a long way into my life, and I have had the privilege of living most of it in pretty close connection with a committed faith community. I've probably taken communion more Sundays than not, and I've been blessed to be in close communication with a lot of people who have been and continue to be spiritual mentors to me. And there are times when I get it, when I know for certain who Jesus is, who God is, and sometimes who I am, but then I lose it. I think, if we are honest, we all lose it.

And I don't think that is a failing at all. I don't think it is because we aren't faithful. I think it is simply because Jesus/God are more than we can fathom. And I think who we are is more than we can fathom. Any time we think we've got it, what we've got is way less than what is real. I think all our lives we will be asking, "Who is this? Who are you, anyway? Who am I anyway?"

James Taylor sings, "I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days I thought would never end." Haven't we all? The thing is that we are always on the same quest, whether consciously or unconsciously. We are probably more aware of Jesus' presence and succor and strength when the storm is raging. On the sunny days we think will never end we are tempted to skip along thinking we are doing just fine. But those days do end, and when we take Jesus' hand to lift us out of the waves, that is when we grow into who God created us to be.

I am awed by the gifts of Jan Richardson, an artist and poet who blogs at The Painted Prayerbook. This is her blessing.

Blessing on the Waves

I cannot promise
that this blessing
will keep you afloat
as if by lashing these words
to your arms,
your ankles,
you could stop yourself
from going under.

The most this blessing
can do, perhaps,
is to stand beside you
in the boat,
place its hand
in the small of your back,
and push.

Be assured that
though this blessing
is eager to set you
in motion,
it will not
leave you forsaken,
will not compel you
to leap
where it has not already
stepped out.

These words
will go with you
across the waves.

These words
will accompany you
across the waters.

And if you
find yourself
flailing,
this blessing
will breathe itself
into you,
will breathe itself
through you

until you are
borne up
by the hands
that reach toward you,
the voice that
calls your name.

1. Who is Jesus? If you think you can answer this, step back and give it another try. Keep trying.

2. In light of God and Jesus, who are you?

3. I think that is enough to keep you busy this week.

It will probably be another week before I get images up again. Unless I am somehow enlightened in the meantime, which would thrill me because there are amazing artworks depicting this scene. Go to Google and look for Jesus walks on water. Which are your favorites?

By the way, my new email is mwaters821@gmail.com. I'd love to hear from you. Blessings.

THE POSTLUDE for Sunday, August 3, 2014

Matthew 14:13-21 NRSV

Jesus withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, "This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves." Jesus said to them, "They need not go away; you give them something to eat." They replied, "We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish." And he said, "Bring them here to me." Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

Matthew 14:13-21The Message (MSG)

 When Jesus got the news, he slipped away by boat to an out-of-the-way place by himself. But unsuccessfully—someone saw him and the word got around. Soon a lot of people from the nearby villages walked around the lake to where he was. When he saw them coming, he was overcome with pity and healed their sick.

Toward evening the disciples approached him. “We’re out in the country and it’s getting late. Dismiss the people so they can go to the villages and get some supper.”

But Jesus said, “There is no need to dismiss them. You give them supper.”

“All we have are five loaves of bread and two fish,” they said.

 Jesus said, “Bring them here.” Then he had the people sit on the grass. He took the five loaves and two fish, lifted his face to heaven in prayer, blessed, broke, and gave the bread to the disciples. The disciples then gave the food to the congregation. They all ate their fill. They gathered twelve baskets of leftovers. About five thousand were fed.

I actually thought about the Prelude this week, but we are still on vacation, and I'm doing it very well, as you can see if you check out my recent books at the "What I'm Reading" page. Also, the grandchildren just left yesterday, so the moments I 'should' have been working on the Prelude were more likely spent playing Rummikub, making s'mores, or climbing in the hills. I'll get back on schedule one day, most likely when we get back to Austin. I do a much better job of it when I have my own study and my desktop computer. I'll be spending time at the Apple store learning how to post pictures on my laptop. For now it is what it is.

Every gospel tells the story of the feeding of the 5000 -- it's that central to the good news of Jesus Christ -- and in Matthew and Mark we get an additional feeding of the 4000. I'm not even guessing how many times I have preached on it, but never once has it been a selection where I've had the feeling that I had already said everything I could dream up about it. Rather, each time I approach it with renewed wonder. What actually happened?

I'm not one who thinks that when Jesus sat everybody down in family-sized groups they decided to confess that they had in fact brought a little something and were willing to share it, though that may well have happened. And I'm not one to think that this was a staged Jesus hocus-pocus to dazzle everyone. Though how could they not have been utterly stunned? I think it's a mystery, and I'm good with mystery. One minute there are thousands of hungry people, and before you know it everybody is full, and there are leftovers. It could never have happened without Jesus. I'm OK with calling it a miracle and not wasting my energy trying to explain it.

Finding meaning in it, on the other hand, is not the same as explaining it. And I believe that the main reason that Jesus did the miracles was so that we fuzzy-minded, skeptical, doubtful people will be drawn into the meaning of them. So that we might be awed, and in our awe we might know God. 

So, if I were someone in the crowd, and I'd listened to Jesus all day and felt my tummy growling and then got a little bit scared because I had no way of getting food, and then all of a sudden some scruffy looking guys wander around with baskets of more fish and more bread than we could eat -- if I were there and I was full, I'd hope Jesus would go on talking, go on telling stories, and as he talked I'd know that he was from God, and that God himself had just blessed me.

I'd have two questions, as Jesus keeps talking: What is God like, that he cares so much about me? And what am I supposed to do, now that I have been so blessed?

The people who who reduce the story to the moral "It's good to share," are actually close to the truth, though I think they miss the reason that it is good to share. Actually, it is not just good to share, it is imperative that we share. Everything we have is from God, but not a single blessing is for us to hoard. Jesus is showing them the abundance of God's love, and not only are they fed by it; they are transformed by it.

Like anybody with a heart, mine has been broken by the pictures and stories of the thousands of children pouring through our borders fleeing from starvation and brutality. They are running from certain death. I expected to hear about this from the gospel perspective in church this morning.

I'm not naming the church we went to. The rector was elsewhere, and the guest preacher told us that he was kind of disoriented because he was not used to Rite 2. Uh oh. And that he was from South Carolina, probably the most conservative diocese in the Episcopal Church today. Uh oh uh oh.

What did he draw from the gospel for us? That we need to remember that we are all wretches. Truly. That was it. Nary a mention of real life hungry people. Nope. The point was to get across to the disciples that without Jesus they were helpless. He proof-texted all over the place -- from Joel and Revelation and Job, I think -- and drove the point home that we are all wretches and need to remember it. 

It was a tiny church with only two people under 60 as far as I could see. It is a church dripping with wealth, and they could do so much with that money to relieve the suffering of others, and maybe they do, but if today was an example of what they hear from the pulpit, they don't know the Jesus I do. The one who emphatically does NOT tell me I am a wretch, but rather that I am the child of God blessed and anointed to do God's work, which is to share his love with the world, and especially those who do not know God's blessing. To take the blessings I have received and share them freely and joyfully.

We left church, and I was determined not to be crabby, but I felt pretty darned crabby. Like I would not be going to that church again, but I know I will because JB's friend is preaching there next Sunday. We got to the grocery store and JB asked me what I thought. He knew good and well what I thought. I told him I decided I wasn't going to say anything negative and therefore I had nothing else to say. He said, "I knew it was all over when he said he was from South Carolina."

So here's for a messy Jesus. Here's for messy church. And God help these children who are coming to us because we are rich and can help them if only we will. It is a messy gospel, thanks be to God. And, no, we are not wretches, thank you very much. So, what are we going to do about it?

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, July 27, 2014

This is more like a postlude. Sorry. We have been traveling, and grandchildren have trumped my computer time. And to add insult to injury, I can't get images to copy to the blog. I'll keep working on that in the coming week. I tried it at home and it worked. So it will be what it is.

Matthew 13:31-33,44-52 NRSV

Jesus put before the crowds another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches."
He told them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened."
"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
"Have you understood all this?" They answered, "Yes." And he said to them, "Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old."

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52The Message (MSG)

Another story. “God’s kingdom is like a pine nut that a farmer plants. It is quite small as seeds go, but in the course of years it grows into a huge pine tree, and eagles build nests in it.”

Another story. “God’s kingdom is like yeast that a woman works into the dough for dozens of loaves of barley bread—and waits while the dough rises.”

“God’s kingdom is like a treasure hidden in a field for years and then accidentally found by a trespasser. The finder is ecstatic—what a find!—and proceeds to sell everything he owns to raise money and buy that field.

“Or, God’s kingdom is like a jewel merchant on the hunt for excellent pearls. Finding one that is flawless, he immediately sells everything and buys it.

 “Or, God’s kingdom is like a fishnet cast into the sea, catching all kinds of fish. When it is full, it is hauled onto the beach. The good fish are picked out and put in a tub; those unfit to eat are thrown away. That’s how it will be when the curtain comes down on history. The angels will come and cull the bad fish and throw them in the garbage. There will be a lot of desperate complaining, but it won’t do any good.”

 Jesus asked, “Are you starting to get a handle on all this?”

They answered, “Yes.”

He said, “Then you see how every student well-trained in God’s kingdom is like the owner of a general store who can put his hands on anything you need, old or new, exactly when you need it.”

This passage of Matthew's gospel is commonly called the parables of the kingdom, undoubtedly because these rapid-fire images all begin with the words, "The kingdom of heaven is like..." The listeners were rapt. Earlier in the day Jesus had been confronted by Pharisees who demanded to see another sign. As if the cures and miracles he had already accomplished might not be able to be repeated. Jesus brushed them off. He knew nothing he could do would convince them.

Suddenly his mother and brothers arrived at the house where he was teaching, appalled by his behavior and notoriety. They simply wanted to take him home until the hubbub died down. I have to admit that I don't like the way he treated his family, but he made his point -- his real family were those who followed him at no small risk.

Next he went outdoors, down to the lakeside, and because there were so many people he had to go out onto the water in a boat so they could hear him.

And he starts throwing parables at them, parables that spoke of an upside down world, a world that does not obey the laws of logic and caution and propriety. I can imagine that the people were rocked by these parables. They are parables of bad farmers, of wasteful housewives, of foolish merchants. 

Too frequently preachers have boiled them down into stories with a moral attached at the end, something we can comprehend and take home with us like a fortune cookie promise. Even small things can make a big difference. So what? I don't think Jesus wasted his time or his listeners' time or our time with platitudes like that.

I really like what David Lose wrote this week at his blog, In the Meantime. He says, Parables don’t describe the kingdom of God as much as they actually evoke some element of God’s in-breaking reign and reality in our lives. And so the key is not to try to explain, much less decode, the parable at hand than it is to invite people to be moved by the parable, to feel in their bones what it means when God gets involved in your life and in the world.

Parables jolt us. Anyone knows that nobody sows mustard any more than they would plant kudzu in their garden or raise cowbirds and grackles. Mustard of this kind is an invasive species. It is unstoppable. How is the kingdom like a mustard seed that grows into a tree in which birds might take refuge. How is the kingdom like yeast? In Jesus' day yeast was known as a contaminant. No woman would mix it with her entire store of flour.

Every one of these parables was meant to get a rise out of people, to stir them to see the world differently, to inspire them to live more audaciously. 

When I was a child I got a magazine in the mail that had a puzzle in it called What's Wrong with this Picture? I would pore over it for hours trying to detect every mistake. The result was that I looked at that picture with a kind of scrutiny that other illustrations didn't evoke. Parables prod us to look at life that way. What is wrong with this picture? If we look that hard maybe we can imagine what can be right.

The end result, though, for Jesus' listeners, was that having been assaulted by the parables, they might be able to believe in the promise. The parables, those deceptively simple wrong-stories, had the capacity to open up something in their hearts and their intellects that created space for the kingdom to begin to take hold. For the kingdom to be born in them like an invasive species, but one that offered everything that this world lacked. 

1. Look carefully at these parables and name what is wrong with each of them.

2. Which one angers you most? Why?

3. Which one puzzles you most? Write a longer story about it. What happens to you when you do

4. Pick one parable and name your visceral reaction to it. How might your world view be changed? What action might be your response?
5. Pay attention to the news this week. Look for something that is wrong and create a parable of it.

THE PRELUDE  for Sunday, July 20, 2014

 

Genesis 28:10-19a NRSV

Jacob left Beer-sheba and went toward Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones of the place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place. And he dreamed that there was a ladder set up on the earth, the top of it reaching to heaven; and the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. And the LORD stood beside him and said, "I am the LORD, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac; the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring; and your offspring shall be like the dust of the earth, and you shall spread abroad to the west and to the east and to the north and to the south; and all the families of the earth shall be blessed in you and in your offspring. Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you." Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, "Surely the LORD is in this place-- and I did not know it!" And he was afraid, and said, "How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven."
So Jacob rose early in the morning, and he took the stone that he had put under his head and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it. He called that place Bethel.

Genesis 28:10-19 The Message

Jacob left Beersheba and went to Haran. He came to a certain place and camped for the night since the sun had set. He took one of the stones there, set it under his head and lay down to sleep. And he dreamed: A stairway was set on the ground and it reached all the way to the sky; angels of God were going up and going down on it.

Then God was right before him, saying, “I am God, the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac. I’m giving the ground on which you are sleeping to you and to your descendants. Your descendants will be as the dust of the Earth; they’ll stretch from west to east and from north to south. All the families of the Earth will bless themselves in you and your descendants. Yes. I’ll stay with you, I’ll protect you wherever you go, and I’ll bring you back to this very ground. I’ll stick with you until I’ve done everything I promised you.”
Jacob woke up from his sleep. He said, “God is in this place—truly. And I didn’t even know it!” He was terrified. He whispered in awe, “Incredible. Wonderful. Holy. This is God’s House. This is the Gate of Heaven.”
Jacob was up first thing in the morning. He took the stone he had used for his pillow and stood it up as a memorial pillar and poured oil over it. He christened the place Bethel (God’s House). The name of the town had been Luz until then.

 

 

A brief recap of Jacob's story to this point might be a good place to start. Jacob was a twin, the second one born to Rebekah and Abraham, after Esau. They were like night and day, and we are told that they were at war with each other in utero. Esau was large and hairy and red and dumb, while Jacob was sleek and sly and out for number one, which caused him to steal first Esau's birthright and then his father's blessing, and all this with the backing of his mother, who favored him. When this part of the story starts Jacob is running away out of a very real fear that Esau is out to kill him.

In short, Jacob is no saint. He is a liar, a cheater, and a scoundrel, not who we would pick to be especially blessed by God. Which is exactly the point. He doesn't deserve his dream glimpse into heaven. So, why Jacob? Up to this point he has not done anything to make us think that he is particularly faithful, but he lies down to go to sleep and is given a vision of an opening between heaven and earth and the angels that ascend and descend on the ladder. 

God is showing him what the kingdom is like and that the kingdom is available even to the likes of him. This is the first of two experiences that can't help but begin to transform Jacob as he will eventually become Israel, the patriarch who fathers the twelve tribes. 

 



































 1. The Celtic peoples refer to places where the fabric between heaven and earth is especially transparent as 'thin places.' Have you ever encountered a thin place? Where were you in your life when this happened? Did something shift in you?
2. Read the Jacob story from start to finish. How do you feel about Jacob? How do you feel about God selecting Jacob to have this numinous experience and to be the father of the children of Israel? How do you feel about how you feel about it?
3. If you were to see a ladder of angels ascending and descending, what would it look like? Can you draw it or paint it or make a poem or a song? What happens inside you when you let your imagination go with this image?
4. When has God blessed you when you knew you did not deserve it? Did it change your relationship with God and/or others? 
5. Look at the two images of the William Blake work. I don't know which is truer, but what interpretive difference does it make with the different colors? Are you more drawn to the cool colors or the warm colors?

Images
1. Jacob's Ladder, French School, 1470, Google images
2. Sculpture at Abilene Christian University by Jack Maxwell, Google images
3. Jacob's Ladder by William Blake, 1806, Google images
4. Jacob's Dream by David Sharin, 1970, The Text this Week



THE PRELUDE for Sunday, July 13, 2014

Matthew 13:1-9,18-23

Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea. Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach. And he told them many things in parables, saying: "Listen! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up. Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away. Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty. Let anyone with ears listen!"

"Hear then the parable of the sower. When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty."

Matthew 13:1-9The Message (MSG)

At about that same time Jesus left the house and sat on the beach. In no time at all a crowd gathered along the shoreline, forcing him to get into a boat. Using the boat as a pulpit, he addressed his congregation, telling stories.

 “What do you make of this? A farmer planted seed. As he scattered the seed, some of it fell on the road, and birds ate it. Some fell in the gravel; it sprouted quickly but didn’t put down roots, so when the sun came up it withered just as quickly. Some fell in the weeds; as it came up, it was strangled by the weeds. Some fell on good earth, and produced a harvest beyond his wildest dreams.

 “Are you listening to this? Really listening?”
 

 
 The Parable of the Sower is the first of eight parables in the 13th chapter of Matthew's gospel. Most of the rest of them begin with the words, "The kingdom of God is like..." and they continue to offer images or vignettes that are meant to puzzle as well as to enlighten the listener. The intent of a parable is to open the hearers' minds to the possibility of another way of seeing the world and their roles in it. That the parables are in conflict with the common wisdom is exactly the point. Early in each parable, someone will gasp and shout, 'NO!" That is where the teaching of the parables begins -- when the hearer recognizes that what first appeared to be familiar is entirely unknown and probably less than palatable.

The first thing a first-century farmer would have noticed is that the sower is a very bad farmer. Seed was precious and was to be planted deliberately, not flung around to feed birds or rot or take shallow root and then wither. Jesus is telling them that God's way of being in relationship is profligate. God is not cautious. Like a farmer who sows recklessly, God's love of the kingdom is willing to take wild risks. Yes, some of the seeds come to naught, but what does grow gives unimaginable returns.

There are two responses to the sermon. First the disciples ask Jesus what the heck he is trying to accomplish. We tend to be pretty harsh with the disciples because they were spending all this time with Jesus, hearing every word that came out of his mouth, seeing with their own eyes the healings that defied explanation and they still didn't get it. We, on the other hand, see it clearly and imagine that we would have even if we had been right there with him. I sincerely doubt it. Much of what happens in our own lives only takes on meaning with the benefit of time and perspective and reflection. So much was going on that their heads must have been spinning, and now he is telling extra-weird stories.

He tells them that this is how he must talk to the people because they don't understand. In Mark's gospel his answer is even more enigmatic. He says he tells parables in order that the wise not understand them. Either way, it seems to me that parables will be utterly rejected by those who are so set in their ways, so protective of the status quo that they cannot entertain the possibility of another reality. The ones who will hear are those who are open to the new reality because their present circumstances are unbearable. The promise of the parables, which is the promise of the kingdom, is available to everyone, but everyone will not accept it. As Jesus says, "Let those with ears hear."

The second response to the parable is the interpretation of it as allegory. I have always disliked this. A strictly allegorical reading of almost any story robs it of life. The mystery, the spring-loaded trap of the parable is unplugged, and we are left with something that can be reduced to a two-dimensional diagram and from which we can walk away both satisfied and untransformed. It was encouraging to me to read that most biblical scholars agree that this interpretation is not original to Jesus but was inserted by early scholars who were writing from the perspective of personal knowledge of the first-century church's bumpy ride. They were watching seed they were casting being grabbed by birds or shriveling on rocky ground. Their good work was going to waste, but where it took root it was flourishing.

This parable sets the pattern for each of the consequent parables. We are invited to put on new ears to hear new promises. "Let all who have ears hear."

 

1. Are you more like the good and cautious farmer or this wild and crazy sower? Weigh the pros and cons of each of them.
2. Study each of the images of the sower. What is this sower feeling? What does he believe/know to be true?
3. Spend time with the VanGogh images. He actually painted and drew a number of them. You can go to google and see all of them. Most artists would make sketches and then paint paintings. VanGogh did the reverse. He would paint his painting and then make a number of drawings of it to interpret it, and he would send these to his artist friends. How is this like or unlike the interpretation of the parable of the sower?
4. Where in your life would you like to be more profligate?
5. If you were a listener in Jesus' day, do you think you would have ears to hear? Is there something in our own time that you might possibly not be hearing?


Images:
1. The Sower, from Art in the Christian Tradition, Vanderbilt University
2. The Sower with Setting Sun by Vincent Van Gogh, 1888 both painting and drawing, painting at
Rijksmuseum Kröller-Müller, Otterlo, Netherlands. Drawing in private collection. At Google Art
3. The Sower by Oskar Martin-Amorbach, 1937, at Google Art
4. The Sower by George Underwood, contemporary, at Google Art

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, July 6, 2014

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Jesus said to the crowd, "To what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,

`We played the flute for you, and you did not dance;

we wailed, and you did not mourn.'

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, `He has a demon'; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, `Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!' Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds."
At that time Jesus said, "I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.

"Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

Matthew 11:16-19. 15030The Message (MSG)

Jesus said, "How can I account for this generation? The people have been like spoiled children whining to their parents, ‘We wanted to skip rope, and you were always too tired; we wanted to talk, but you were always too busy.’ John came fasting and they called him crazy. I came feasting and they called me a lush, a friend of the riffraff. Opinion polls don’t count for much, do they? The proof of the pudding is in the eating.”

Abruptly Jesus broke into prayer: “Thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth. You’ve concealed your ways from sophisticates and know-it-alls, but spelled them out clearly to ordinary people. Yes, Father, that’s the way you like to work.”

Jesus resumed talking to the people, but now tenderly. “The Father has given me all these things to do and say. This is a unique Father-Son operation, coming out of Father and Son intimacies and knowledge. No one knows the Son the way the Father does, nor the Father the way the Son does. But I’m not keeping it to myself; I’m ready to go over it line by line with anyone willing to listen.

 “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”






What a perfect text this is for the Sunday following Independence Day! Talk about Jesus being counter-cultural! He is so frustrated with the people. He's just finished telling the disciples what it will mean to be committed to him, and then some of John the Baptist's disciples run up and ask if he's really the Messiah. He tells them to go back to John in prison and report what they see happening in the world, basically what he promised in his reading of the prophecy of Isaiah and that it is happening before their eyes. And he knows full well that none of them gets what he is saying.

His prayer sounds crazy. Thank you, Father, for sending your message in such a way that the smarty-pants can't get it but the simpletons can.

I'm reminded of all the folk tales in which the smart and strong older brothers can't accomplish what the baby and the loser of the family does with ease. What is really important for us to learn doesn't come to the part of us that is competent and confident, but rather to the part of us that struggles and is weak.

Jesus knows that we are all carrying burdens that become unbearable to us. His yoke is not a way of confining us but rather a way of letting him carry some of the weight. It is a promise that together we can accomplish what is impossible alone.

On July 4 we celebrate what has become a core value of the United States -- independence. Rugged individuality. Jesus promises us that these are not the values of God. We do in fact need each other, and the sooner we get that through our heads the better. And we need God as incarnated in Jesus, who is capable of having true compassion for us, even when he is utterly frustrated because we, too, are too dense to get it, at least most of the time.

 1. Can you remember an instance in which you learned through what Jung calls your 'inferior function'? In other words, have you learned more from something that you approached with a part of yourself that is not accomplished and confident?

2. Why are we so unwilling to accept our interdependence?

3. Why does our society teach us that to need each other is a sign of weakness?

4. That said, why is it bad to be weak? 

5. Think of some people who consider themselves to be powerful. What makes them think they are powerful. Is it something Jesus values?

6. What burden are you carrying that you will allow Jesus to share with you, either by way of prayer or by enlisting the help of a person who will be glad to embody Jesus' kindness? 

Images

1. Bearing a Heavy Weight Together: Art in the Christian Tradition, Vanderbilt University

2. He's Not Heavy, He's my Brother

3. The Declaration of Independence

4. Flags in national cemetery, Santa Monica, CA

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, June 29, 2014

Genesis 22:1-14 NRSV

God tested Abraham. He said to him, "Abraham!" And he said, "Here I am." He said, "Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you." So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering, and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, "Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you." Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. So the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, "Father!" And he said, "Here I am, my son." He said, "The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?" Abraham said, "God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son." So the two of them walked on together. When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac, and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. But the angel of the LORD called to him from heaven, and said, "Abraham, Abraham!" And he said, "Here I am." He said, "Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me." And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place "The LORD will provide"; as it is said to this day, "On the mount of the LORD it shall be provided."

 

Genesis 22:1-14 The Message

After all this, God tested Abraham. God said, “Abraham!”

“Yes?” answered Abraham. “I’m listening.”
He said, “Take your dear son Isaac whom you love and go to the land of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I’ll point out to you.”
Abraham got up early in the morning and saddled his donkey. He took two of his young servants and his son Isaac. He had split wood for the burnt offering. He set out for the place God had directed him. On the third day he looked up and saw the place in the distance. Abraham told his two young servants, “Stay here with the donkey. The boy and I are going over there to worship; then we’ll come back to you.”
Abraham took the wood for the burnt offering and gave it to Isaac his son to carry. He carried the flint and the knife. The two of them went off together.
 Isaac said to Abraham his father, “Father?”
“Yes, my son.”
“We have flint and wood, but where’s the sheep for the burnt offering?”
Abraham said, “Son, God will see to it that there’s a sheep for the burnt offering.” And they kept on walking together.
They arrived at the place to which God had directed him. Abraham built an altar. He laid out the wood. Then he tied up Isaac and laid him on the wood. Abraham reached out and took the knife to kill his son.
Just then an angel of God called to him out of Heaven, “Abraham! Abraham!”
“Yes, I’m listening.”
 “Don’t lay a hand on that boy! Don’t touch him! Now I know how fearlessly you fear God; you didn’t hesitate to place your son, your dear son, on the altar for me.”
 Abraham looked up. He saw a ram caught by its horns in the thicket. Abraham took the ram and sacrificed it as a burnt offering instead of his son.
  Abraham named that place God-Yireh (God-Sees-to-It). That’s where we get the saying, “On the mountain of God, he sees to it.”

Whenever I pick up a children's Bible storybook, I turn to two stories to help me decide whether to buy it. One is the crucifixion, the other is this story. My rule of thumb is that if the story of the sacrifice of Isaac (referred to as the Binding of Isaac or the Akedah by our Jewish brothers and sisters) is even in the storybook, it goes back on the shelf. This story should not be told to children. I'm not sure it should be told to anyone, it is so horrific. One commentator I recently read, a venerable and well-respected preacher, vows that he will never preach on it again. I'm guessing he is not from a church that uses the lectionary. For us it comes up at least every third year, and my position is that if the congregation has heard it read, if I do not preach on it and protest against it, it stands firm in its own grueling authority. The reader has already said, "The Word of the Lord," and with our Episcopal good manners we have replied, "Thanks be to God." I can't let that be the last of it.

The issue, for a preacher, is how to proclaim the good news of God's love in Jesus Christ by using this story. It is incomprehensible. Who is this God who tests Abraham by demanding that he murder his precious only son? Yes, I remember that Abraham had another son, Ishmael, so the question arises as to who is this father who sends one son out to certain death in the desert and willingly takes a knife to the throat of the other? I know that Paul uses it to commend Abraham's faithfulness, but if you read all the stories about Abraham -- twice allowing Sarah to be taken into a harem to save his own skin by lying, laughing at God's promise of a son -- Abraham does have a sketchy side to his character.

In short, preachers and biblical scholars and students have been puzzling over it for years. I read a commentary this week in which the writer refers to Kierkegaard's treatment of the story:  "In Fear and Trembling (1843), Soren Kierkegaard devoted an entire book to this story. He recalls how he heard this Bible story as a child, and how the older he got the more his enthusiasm for the story grew, while the less and less he understood it. He puts himself in Abraham's shoes, and shudders as he contemplates how Abraham might have thought, felt, and acted. He imagines four different scenarios.

           "In version 1, Abraham "protects" God by blaming himself for the atrocious command. Isaac lunges at Abraham's legs and begs for his life. When he looks at Abraham's face, his "gaze was wild, his whole being was sheer terror." Abraham rebukes Isaac, "Do you think it is God's command?! No, it is my desire." Abraham then prays softly, "Lord God in heaven, I thank you; it is better that he believes me a monster than that he should lose faith in you."

Floor of the Beth Alpha synagogue, 6th century.

           "In version 2, Abraham and Isaac journey in total silence. At Moriah, Abraham builds the altar and wields the knife, then at the last minute God provides a ram in Isaac's place. In fact, this is how the Genesis narrative unfolds. But Kierkegaard ads a twist by imagining the consequences.

           "Abraham obeyed and Isaac was saved, but Abraham was deeply traumatized for the rest of his life. "He could not forget that God had ordered him to do this… His eyes were darkened and he saw joy no more." He passed the test, but at what cost? In his act of faith did he lose his faith?

           "Version 3 imagines Abraham's agony at having committed child sacrifice. What could he have been thinking? Abraham "threw himself down on his face, he prayed to God to forgive him his sin, that he had been willing to sacrifice Isaac, that the father had forgotten his duty to his son." Surely it's the universal ethical duty for parents to love their children and not to murder them?! Kierkegaard imagines Abraham concluding that he was mistaken to believe that God had told him to sacrifice Isaac.
 
           "Finally, an entirely different scenario. Abraham suffers a failure of nerve, an explicit act of disobedience, or conversely, he returns to his senses. In this scenario, Abraham believes the command of God but he fails to act. He can't bring himself to slay Isaac, and as a consequence Isaac loses his faith. "Not a word of this is ever said in the world, and Isaac never talked to anyone about what he had seen, and Abraham did not suspect that anyone had seen."

Medieval ivory carving.

           "Kierkegaard concludes his four imaginary scenarios: "Thus and in many similar ways did the man of whom we speak ponder this event." That's an understatement if ever there was one." (A Terrifying Test: Abraham and Isaac on Mount Moriah, by Dan Clendenin on Text this Week)

 It is not surprising, then, that artists have been intrigued by the mystery and drama of this story. In 1401 the Sacrifice of Isaac was chosen by the Calimala, or wool merchants' guild of Florence to be the subject of a bronze panel in the contest to appoint the artist for the doors of the Baptistry, which was the most important building in the city. In a bitter rivalry both Brunelleschi and Ghiberti presented their panels, and Ghiberti won and was awarded the task of producing what would eventually be known as the Gates of Paradise. (Brunelleschi on left, Ghiberti on right)

 

1. Is it possible, as a human being, to read this story and not inject yourself into it? With which character do you most readily identify?

2. Do you believe that God knew how it was going to turn out?

3. If we read this as a story of faithfulness and personal sacrifice, what is the one thing in your life you are least willing to give to God?

4. Do you think God had a Plan B? What might it have been?

5. Do you think maybe Abraham knew how it was going to turn out and was actually testing God?

 

 Illustrations

1. Basilica of San Vitale, Ravenna, Italy 527

2. Huntingfield Psalter, England, early 13th Century

3. The Sacrifice of Isaac by Donatello, Museum of the Duomo, Florence, 1421

4. Floor of the Beth Alpha Synagogue, Israel, 6th Century

5. Medieval ivory carving

6. Panels of the Sacrifice of Isaac by Brunelleschi and Ghiberti, Florence, 1401

7. The Sacrifice of Isaac by Caravaggio, Uffizi Gallery, Florence, 1603

8. Book illumination, origin unknown

9. Sacrifice of Isaac -- Rosh Hashana, Pomegranate Studios, 2005

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, June 22, 2014
 

Matthew 10:24-39 NRSV

Jesus said to the twelve disciples,
"A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!

"So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.

"Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.
"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.

"For I have come to set a man against his father,
and a daughter against her mother,
and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law;
and one's foes will be members of one's own household.

"Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it."

Matthew 10:24-39 The Message

 “A student doesn’t get a better desk than her teacher. A laborer doesn’t make more money than his boss. Be content—pleased, even—when you, my students, my harvest hands, get the same treatment I get. If they call me, the Master, ‘Dungface,’ what can the workers expect?
 “Don’t be intimidated. Eventually everything is going to be out in the open, and everyone will know how things really are. So don’t hesitate to go public now.
 “Don’t be bluffed into silence by the threats of bullies. There’s nothing they can do to your soul, your core being. Save your fear for God, who holds your entire life—body and soul—in his hands.

 “What’s the price of a pet canary? Some loose change, right? And God cares what happens to it even more than you do. He pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail—even numbering the hairs on your head! So don’t be intimidated by all this bully talk. You’re worth more than a million canaries.

 “Stand up for me against world opinion and I’ll stand up for you before my Father in heaven. If you turn tail and run, do you think I’ll cover for you?
 “Don’t think I’ve come to make life cozy. I’ve come to cut—make a sharp knife-cut between son and father, daughter and mother, bride and mother-in-law—cut through these cozy domestic arrangements and free you for God. Well-meaning family members can be your worst enemies. If you prefer father or mother over me, you don’t deserve me. If you prefer son or daughter over me, you don’t deserve me.
 “If you don’t go all the way with me, through thick and thin, you don’t deserve me. If your first concern is to look after yourself, you’ll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you’ll find both yourself and me.

This passage makes me think of a woman in our neighborhood named Nadine. She is a committed member of our homeowners' association, and her passion is the care of our green areas. When I usually see Nadine is when I'm walking Opie, and she is in the open area we call the triangle. It is a space that over the last three or four years she has transformed from just a patch of mostly dead grass to a gently landscaped area with rocks, wildflowers, cacti, and right now blooming lantana. Nadine's mission is to rid it of cockle-burs, and to this end she spends untold hours walking in this space with a pair of socks over her sneakers to pull the nasty little things off so they don't go to seed. She cares for a square foot at a time, and she is there all the time. I admit that it has occurred to me that Nadine has too much time on her hands, but in light of this week's gospel reading, it seems that her work is holy work, godlike in it loving attention to something so tiny we could easily dismiss it. And a task performed for love of others she may well never meet.

There is nothing so tiny that God dismisses it, and think of how much more significant we are than the little brown sparrows about whom God cares so desperately. I think God is just going around yelling, "I love you" I love you! I love you!" and is willing to do any fool thing to prove it to us.

What we need to remember this week is that Jesus exaggerates. He gets the attention of his naysayers by shocking them. If we literalize what he says we are missing the point. But if we go with his metaphors we will get to the place where he knocks the wind out of us. In a good way. In a way that leads us to larger life.

I always cringe at the part where Jesus says he comes with a sword. I simply do not see a sword-wielding Jesus. What I do see is a sword of discernment, a blade that slices clean what is false from what is true, more a scalpel than a weapon. We don't always like the truth. But as the evangelist John says, the truth liberates us. The truth gives us our true selves and our access to God.

What I do know for certain about Jesus is that he does not want us to hate anyone. His final words in John's gospel command the disciples to love each other as he has loved them. Lavishly. Abundantly. Profligately. Ridiculously. Love wastefully. Love is not something to be withheld. It is something to be squandered.

I think his point here, shockingly delivered, is that however much we can imagine loving -- and who cannot imagine the desperate love we have for our small children -- God loves us infinitely more. What does it feel like to be accepting of that kind of love? And how empowering is it to go into the world sustained by that kind of love? How can we not expend it upon others, even those who are not appealing to us?

Jesus has just commissioned the disciples to set off on their first missionary journey, and he is giving them their review of everything he has told them previously. They are heading out and will surely meet some hostility on their way. He is encouraging them to keep going, to hold nothing back. God goes for broke in loving the world and forgiving us over and over for falling short. Jesus goes for broke to the point where he will give his life out of love. He is telling the disciples to go for broke as well if they want to be ministers of the kingdom. He never tells them that it will be easy to follow him in a world dominated by fear, but that they do not need to live in that fear. Following Jesus is costly because it is beyond what the world of power and wealth can comprehend and counter to what it values.

1. Can you remember a time when you felt purely loved by someone? Or when you have loved someone so much that it is difficult to get them to understand it? Close your eyes and recall that feeling for several minutes.

2. Go on a walk and take your phone or camera. Look for tiny things -- wildflowers, insects, sparrows -- and take pictures of them and meditate on how lovingly and beautifully they are created. Look in the mirror and consider the same thing.

3. Do you wear a cross? Do you have one in your office or home? What does it really mean to you? Remember the old question, "If you lived in a land where it was illegal to be a Christian, would their be enough evidence to convict you?"

4. Take one action today that holds nothing back.

Illustrations
1. Happy family on the internet
2. House sparrow
3. Christ carrying the cross by Pieter Breugel the elder, 1564






THE PRELUDE for Sunday, June 15, 2014

 

Matthew 28:16-20 NRSV

The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."

Matthew 28:16-20 The Message

 Meanwhile, the eleven disciples were on their way to Galilee, headed for the mountain Jesus had set for their reunion. The moment they saw him they worshiped him. Some, though, held back, not sure about worship, about risking themselves totally.

 Jesus, undeterred, went right ahead and gave his charge: “God authorized and commanded me to commission you: Go out and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism in the threefold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then instruct them in the practice of all I have commanded you. I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age.”

 

 Last fall, when we were in la Dordogne region of France, we took a day to go to the caves at Lascaux, where in 1940 some spelunking teenagers discovered the incredible cave paintings that were created by our forebears some 17,300 years ago. The physical sensation of awe I experienced was akin to entering one of the great Gothic cathedrals of Europe. We were breathing the air and witnessing the go-for-broke effort of people who needed to express their relationship with transcendence. Beauty flowed through them as charged as an electric current. There was no doubt as I stood beneath these colorful, lively paintings -- which, by the way, very much make use of the contours of the cave walls to create the shapes of the running beasts -- but that the artists were doing their best to express their relationship with God.

On Trinity Sunday we talk theology. 51 other Sundays it might be faith or hope or Christian responsibility or stewardship or forgiveness or any one of a gazillion facets of what it means to grow in our faith, but this one Sunday it seems we break open our textbooks. Either that or reach for far-fetched metaphors -- ice, water, steam? -- to EXPLAIN who God is. What on earth are we thinking?

People have been trying to do this for millennia. Nobody has succeeded, though they may have temporarily deluded themselves. We want to know God. Therefore we want to be able to talk about God. Hence, we want to explain God. To diagram God. To put God in the box, where he is safe, but where whatever is in there is not God.

The Chinese have a saying, "The tao that can be spoken is not the tao." The God we can explain is not God. We reach for God, and in our reaching we have glimpses of God. It is these glimpses that keep us going. And fortunately for us, when people have these glimpses they cannot keep them to themselves. They paint them or sing them or tell their stories.

 

One story of God is the one the church fathers devised when they declared in the early councils of the church that God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and that the Son is co-existent with the Father from before time, and that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. And of course God is infinitely more than this. What the creed expresses is not all that God is, but rather the ways in which human beings can relate to God.

 

The ways we perceive God are the open channels to not only our relationship with God but also to our own potential to grow in our Christ spirit. All attempts to explain the Holy Trinity fall short, but they are efforts to reach into what is ultimate. I'm personally ready to quit trying to understand God and to let go and dance with God.


Our reading from Matthew is most often received as a commandment, but I think it becomes something even richer when we receive it as an invitation. Jesus is about to leave the disciples and ascend into heaven. He affirms to them, after forty days of walking with them in his resurrection body, that they are heirs of God's holiness and therefore are empowered to be the agents of God's Kingdom. Baptizing in the name of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is how we invite others to join in the dance.

1. What do you remember or know about your baptism?

2. Can you close your eyes and envision a place in which you felt pure awe? How can you explain that awe to someone who has never been there?

3. When you dance with God, what is the soundtrack?

Illustrations
1. Stained glass at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church, Brandenburg, KY
2. The Holy Trinity from the website of Holy Trinity Catholic Community, Blairmore, Alberta, Canada.
3. Cave paintings at Lascaux, France
4. Diagram of the Holy Trinity at koinoniablog.net
5. The Holy Trinity by Masaccio, 1425, Santa Maria Novella, Florence, Italy
6. La Danse by Matisse




MYSTERY: No PRELUDE...yet.

I don't know how it happened, but my post for the Prelude this week has disappeared, to be found nowhere. We had a terrible storm on Thursday night, soon after I posted it, and we lost power for well over 24 hours. I was reminded how accustomed we are to being comfortable in a somewhat uncomfortable climate. It was hard getting to sleep in a house where it was around 80 degrees, and yet we did it all the time when I was a child and AC was a rarity. The darkness, on the other hand, and the quiet were delightful. The candles we lighted were sufficient for most of what we wanted to do after sunset, which is very nearly as late as it can be.


So what happened to the Prelude? It was hard to write about the Trinity, but I'll try to recreate it or something like it as soon as possible. Then I'll get up this week's Prelude in a timely manner. And my goal is to get to where I'm a week or more ahead on creating it. I'm ready to start to create a little bit of discipline in what has so far been a largely amorphous
beginning of retirement.

The dining room is once more a storage unit, filled with boxes of stuff from my church office that will not fit anywhere in this house without getting rid of something to make space. So I anticipate several months of fruit basket turnover. The guy at Goodwill is beginning to recognize me.

In case anybody is reading this, thank you for your patience. Do come back. And I'm going to get the rest of the blog back in shape soon.

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, June 8, 2014

Acts 2:1-21 NRSV

When the day of Pentecost had come, the disciples were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, "Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs-- in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power." All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, "What does this mean?" But others sneered and said, "They are filled with new wine."
But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, "Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o'clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:

`In the last days it will be, God declares,

that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,

and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,

and your young men shall see visions,

and your old men shall dream dreams.

Even upon my slaves, both men and women,

in those days I will pour out my Spirit;

and they shall prophesy.

And I will show portents in the heaven above

and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist.

The sun shall be turned to darkness

and the moon to blood,

before the coming of the Lord's great and glorious day.

Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.' " 

 

Acts 2:1-21 (The Message)

2 ^1-4 When the Feast of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Without warning there was a sound like a strong wind, gale force—no one could tell where it came from. It filled the whole building. Then, like a wildfire, the Holy Spirit spread through their ranks, and they started speaking in a number of different languages as the Spirit prompted them.

^5-11 There were many Jews staying in Jerusalem just then, devout pilgrims from all over the world. When they heard the sound, they came on the run. Then when they heard, one after another, their own mother tongues being spoken, they were thunderstruck. They couldn’t for the life of them figure out what was going on, and kept saying, “Aren’t these all Galileans? How come we’re hearing them talk in our various mother tongues?

Parthians, Medes, and Elamites;Visitors from Mesopotamia, Judea, and Cappadocia,
    Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia,
    Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene;
Immigrants from Rome, both Jews and proselytes;
Even Cretans and Arabs!

“They’re speaking our languages, describing God’s mighty works!”

¹² Their heads were spinning; they couldn’t make head or tail of any of it. They talked back and forth, confused: “What’s going on here?”
¹³ Others joked, “They’re drunk on cheap wine.”

^14-21 That’s when Peter stood up and, backed by the other eleven, spoke out with bold urgency: “Fellow Jews, all of you who are visiting Jerusalem, listen carefully and get this story straight. These people aren’t drunk as some of you suspect. They haven’t had time to get drunk—it’s only nine o’clock in the morning. This is what the prophet Joel announced would happen:

“In the Last Days,” God says,
“I will pour out my Spirit
    on every kind of people:
Your sons will prophesy,
    also your daughters;
Your young men will see visions,
    your old men dream dreams.
When the time comes,
    I’ll pour out my Spirit
On those who serve me, men and women both,
    and they’ll prophesy.
I’ll set wonders in the sky above
    and signs on the earth below,
Blood and fire and billowing smoke,
    the sun turning black and the moon blood-red,
Before the Day of the Lord arrives,
    the Day tremendous and marvelous;
And whoever calls out for help
    to me, God, will be saved.”

 

Tonight I had an experience that changed my view of Pentecost. We were standing on a neighbor’s patio at dusk, looking out at the skyline of Austin. There was just enough breeze to cool us, and a tufted titmouse lighted on the power line and then flew off. Doves and cardinals and mockingbirds sang in the canopy of leaves. And the rabbi prayed a psalm.

We were maybe fifty people gathered for shiva in memory of our neighbor’s father, a man whom I never met, but wish I had from the stories his children and grandchildren told. He was a physician in South Africa, beloved of the people for whom he cared. His two sons and one daughter sat on special shiva chairs, which are lower to the ground than regular chairs. I read about shiva on the Internet before we left. It was an honor to be included.

A grandson, a medical student, gave the last eulogy and spoke of how his grandfather had epitomized Sabbath to him. How he had introduced him to the works of Rabbi Heschel and had embodied the sacredness of profound presence. 

The rabbi, as he concluded the service, remarked how appropriate it was that we celebrate Danny’s life on the night before the beginning of Shavuot, the Jewish festival that we Christians call Pentecost. He invited us to consider it to be the festival that draws us all together, not just the Jews who gathered at the foot of Sinai to receive the law, but all people from all time.

This week we read the account from the Acts of the Apostles, which begins with the disciples hidden in the Upper Room, isolating themselves from the rest of the world out of fear. Uninvited, the Holy Spirit sweeps into the room, experienced as fire and wind, but these were merely the sensory manifestations of the transformation that was taking place within them. The Holy Spirit does not tolerate isolation.

No longer could they hide themselves from the rest of the world. Empowered by the Spirit, they shed every ounce of fear. Running like crazy men in the streets, shouting proclamations of the love of God, they are one with all the crowds of pilgrims.

I read a blog post this week about what makes a church live or die, and the author’s point was that it is the direction of the church's focus that makes the difference. Outward focused churches thrive. They celebrate the presence of the Spirit by sharing it with the world regardless of doctrine or deservedness. They understand themselves to be agents of grace to everyone.  Inward focused churches die. They breed fear. They isolate themselves and avoid otherness.

I was honored to have been invited to share in the celebration of Danny’s life and in the holy sphere of his family’s grief. As I dressed to go there I considered whether I should remove the silver and pearl cross that I always wear. I decided not to. It was my way of saying that different as we are in our ways of worshiping God, we are all God’s best beloved. The Torah that was given to Moses was for the sake of blessing all the world, and the Holy Spirit that was sent from heaven to the disciples was so that they would take the good news of eternal life and God’s infinite love to all God’s creation. 

 

Pentecost is the Greek word for the Jewish Festival of Weeks, which occurs fifty days after Easter. The Jewish name for this festival is Shavuot, and is the commemoration of the day that God gave the Torah to Moses on Mount Sinai. Unlike the other two major festivals of Jesus's time, Passover and Sukkot, there are no mizvot, or commandments to be carried out. It consists of one day in Israel, two days in the diaspora, or the foreign lands in which Jews live, and calls for special prayers at the synagogue, the reading of the Book of Ruth, and the presentation of first fruits of the harvest at the Temple. The fact that Jews from all over the diaspora had come to Jerusalem for this festival is the occasion for the disciples to speak in languages they did not understand when the Holy Spirit inspired them to break loose from the Upper Room and preach in the streets. This was not the same thing as speaking in tongues, nor was it a reversal of the Tower of Babel. It is based on the lunar calendar, and its date is the fiftieth day after Easter. The Ascension is always celebrated on a Thursday, forty days after Easter and ten days before Pentecost. It has been customary to consider it to be the birthday of the church, but it is much more than that. Its focus is not looking backward but rather forward as the Holy Spirit continues to inspire us to be agents of God's love and grace to the world we live in.

 

“On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return. ”Annie Dillard

1.  Who or what is the Holy Spirit? Imagine explaining it to a child or someone from another culture. 

2. How would you paint or draw the Holy Spirit?

3. If the Holy Spirit were a person, describe that person.

4. Have you ever been included in a sacred event of a faith different from your own? How did it feel to you?

5. When have you felt as if your life were being carried away by the Holy Spirit? Meditate on the experience. Where did it take you?

Illustrations were all found on Google: Pentecost. Not all had attributions

1. 12th Century

2. Child's drawing

3. Giotto, 13th Century

4. Alexey Pismenny

THE PRELUDE for Sunday, June 1, 2014

Acts 1:6-14 NRSV

When the apostles had come together, they asked Jesus, "Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?" He replied, "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth." When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, "Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven."

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day's journey away. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

Acts 1:6-14 The Message

⁶ When they were together for the last time they asked, “Master, are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel now? Is this the time?”
^7-8 He told them, “You don’t get to know the time. Timing is the Father’s business. What you’ll get is the Holy Spirit. And when the Holy Spirit comes on you, you will be able to be my witnesses in Jerusalem, all over Judea and Samaria, even to the ends of the world.”
^9-11 These were his last words. As they watched, he was taken up and disappeared in a cloud. They stood there, staring into the empty sky. Suddenly two men appeared—in white robes! They said, “You Galileans!—why do you just stand here looking up at an empty sky? This very Jesus who was taken up from among you to heaven will come as certainly—and mysteriously—as he left.”

^12-13 So they left the mountain called Olives and returned to Jerusalem. It was a little over half a mile. They went to the upper room they had been using as a meeting place:

Peter,
John,
James,
Andrew,
Philip,
Thomas,
Bartholomew,
Matthew,
James, son of Alphaeus,
Simon the Zealot,
Judas, son of James.

¹⁴ They agreed they were in this for good, completely together in prayer, the women included. Also Jesus’ mother, Mary, and his brothers.

 “Remain true to yourself, but move ever upward toward greater consciousness and greater love! At the summit you will find yourselves united with all those who, from every direction, have made the same ascent. For everything that rises must converge.” – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, French Jesuit and paleontologist.

We spent last week in the Big Bend area of west Texas. My husband had the wisdom to sweep me out of town the day after my big retirement celebration at church so that I would at least temporarily be distracted from the grief of leaving the job I have loved and, even more to the point, the people I have loved for the last nine years. 

Neither of us had been to Big Bend before, and we had only inklings of what to expect. What I didn't expect, though, was that our experience would offer me a new way of seeing this week's lesson from Acts.

Luke is the only evangelist who includes the scene of Jesus' ascension into heaven, and he does it twice -- at the end of the Gospel According to Luke and at the beginning of the Acts of the Apostles.  The picture that is painted is of the Lord being lifted up into the sky until finally he disappears. The disciples watch him go, and when he is gone, they experience his profound absence. Suddenly there are two men in white -- angels, we surmise -- who tell them that there is no use staring into space because Jesus will be coming back.

There is a long and strange ten day period between Ascension Day and Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit will fly down and transform these same disciples into apostles. The men who have spent the last seven weeks mostly hiding out in the Upper Room for fear that they would be arrested will run out into the streets acting so crazy that they are accused of being drunk. Peter, who up till now could barely get a coherent sentence out of his mouth, is suddenly not only eloquent in his proclamation of the good news but persistent to the point that he is repeatedly imprisoned for his refusal to quit preaching about Jesus. There is no fear left.
 


It is as if the Jesus who left them has taken up residence within them, something he could not do so long as he was physically present as a human being on earth. As for his coming back? Well, people have been puzzling over that for all these years. My own suspicion is that he is working on it. That he will be back when each and every one of us lives fully into our Christ-essence. Incarnation will be complete in us.

What does any of this have to do with Big Bend? Well, begin with distance. Nothing is close to anything else in West Texas, and when you get there, in most places there is not all that much there. What I experienced was the blessing of emptiness, the presence of space, the slowness of time. I did not miss distraction. Cell phone service is very scant and sporadic, and we felt cut off. I became acutely aware that we did not need any more information than was right before us. The yucca and some cactus were blooming. Storm clouds were growing. Rock formations attested to powerful forces that molded the earth millions of years ago. Most times there were one or two dust devils swirling in the distance, plenty of buzzards, a lizard skittering across the road, a rabbit holding still in hopes we didn't see him. Chaos and beauty and mysterious order were speaking to us. It was plenty.

We went to the McDonald Observatory and saw the gigantic telescopes through which astronomers search for the secrets of creation. They actually listen to the Big Bang -- there was evening and there was morning, and it was good. They ponder the births and deaths of stars and look into the hearts of nebulae and galaxies. The sky was so dark at night that our eyes saw planets and stars we haven't seen in years in our light-polluted world. The sense of awe just about knocks you over. God so far away, and God so present.

We had a little cabin in the park that had the perfect view of the Window, a vista where two mountains meet to frame the sunset. We sat there as the sun sank and we listened into what would have been silence if it had not been for the wind in the trees and the songs of birds, many of which we did not know. We watched the color fade from the clouds and waited for the first stars. A small gray fox pranced by us on his way to his evening business, and black ants marched purposefully back and forth along a crack in the rocks, persistent in their chores.

The experience I had was one of being opened by the emptiness of it all, of my attention being sharpened to the point that what I felt was divine presence. Mystery is such a gift. What is the matter/energy that teaches the warbler its song? What do the ants know? How do the same atoms that are birthing stars in a distant nebula know to arrange themselves into rods and cones in my eye so that I can see the heavens, the light waves or particles that departed from them millions of years ago?

This little painting is from Jesus's point of view as he looks down on the disciples-soon-to-be-apostles. They are shocked, lost, bereft, afraid, but they won't be for long. The ten days of emptiness are exactly what they need to be prepared for the coming of the Holy Spirit.

 

Teilhard writes, "Everything that rises must converge." It appeared to the disciples that Jesus had left them, but he had to leave them physically so that they could find his power of love within themselves and so that they could see it in others. What appears to be empty is a profound fullness. The connectedness of it all was what overwhelmed me -- ancient volcanoes, the wisdom of ants, spinning galaxies, the cooing of the dove, the miraculous beating of my heart, the love of friends, dust devils and prickly pears. Convergence is the reality that we are unable to see without the perspective of absence. Convergence is the reality that we are all one, that interdependence is the ultimate life force and is God's gift to us. Jesus left the disciples with all they needed to know, "Love one another as I have loved you." What the disciples wouldn't be able to see but that they would learn later is that when Jesus ascended into heaven, heaven took up residence within them.

1. What do you think happened when Jesus was raised up into heaven?
2. What is heaven?
3. Have you ever experienced a loss that turned out to be a gift?
4. Where do you find darkness, quiet, space in your life? Do you crave it?
5. Create a period of time in which you will seek no new information. What does that feel like?
6. Watch an animal. How does it know what to be?
7. Watch the sun set and the night be born.

Illustrations
1. Ascension of Christ by Salvador Dali 
http://www.dali.com/blog/dalis-ascension-of-christ-among-his-most-powerful-masterworks/
2. Initially found at Google: Ascension of Jesus, cannot find it now
3. Ascension of Jesus by Brian Whelan http://www.globallightminds.com/2013/11/artway-visual-meditation-november-17-2013/
4. Jago inspired art project for Ascension

http://exploreandexpress-sheila.blogspot.com/2011/05/jago-inspired-art-project-for-ascension.html