Lectionary Notes 2/24 2 Lent C

Genesis 15:1-12; 17-18

This entire episode takes place during a dream or vision. God promises Abram a great reward, and Abram kind of grumps like Han Solo in Star Wars: “What good’s a reward if you ain’t around to spend it?” Instead, Abram’s spin is “What good’s a reward if it will go to people outside my family?”

We can forgive him for being grumpy. Every other time that God has told Abram to do something, Abram has done it without a single question. Get up and pack everything and go to Canaan, a land you’ve never seen? Sure, God. Ten years before, in Genesis 12, God had promised that Abram would be made a great nation, and a lot has happened since then: famine and a trip to Egypt; his nephew Lot captured, forcing Abram to go to war (Genesis 13). Abram is rich, yes, but he has no direct descendants, and a slave from Damascus is his heir. Abram is a very old man; he moved to Canaan at age 75, and had been living there 10 years when this promise was made to him. He had been married for a very long time, and his wife was considered to be barren— and yet, when God tells him that his blood descendants will outnumber the stars, for the first time, instead of just doing whatever he is told, he asks for clarification.

Here’s what was omitted—a dream in which God tells Abram that his descendants will be slaves, will eventually triumph: ‘¹³Then the Lord said to Abram, “Know this for certain, that your offspring shall be aliens in a land that is not theirs, and shall be slaves there, and they shall be oppressed for four hundred years; ¹⁴but I will bring judgment on the nation that they serve, and afterward they shall come out with great possessions. ¹⁵As for yourself, you shall go to your ancestors in peace; you shall be buried in a good old age. ¹⁶And they shall come back here in the fourth generation; for the iniquity of the Amorites is not yet complete.”’ I think this omission is actually important and changes the story considerably—it adds a darker note, and shows that there will be suffering even in the midst of all the good things. That’s real life.

As it is, in the version we have, Abram receives the promise, he sacrifices as God commanded him to do, and he falls asleep into “a deep and terrifying darkness,” then suddenly there is a smoking fire pot and torch going in between the pieces of the offerings. Supposedly, it is God passing between the pieces, thus binding himself and assenting to follow through with giving the land between the Nile and Euphrates to Abram’s descendants and giving Abram children.

What is described here is called a “covenant ceremony.” This was described in Jeremiah 34:18-20: 18 Those who have violated my covenant and have not fulfilled the terms of the covenant they made before me, I will treat like the calf they cut in two and then walked between its pieces. 19 The leaders of Judah and Jerusalem, the court officials, the priests and all the people of the land who walked between the pieces of the calf, 20 I will deliver into the hands of their enemies who want to kill them. Their dead bodies will become food for the birds and the wild animals. An animal would be sacrificed and split into halves; the parties would walk between the halves in a figure 8 pattern, and then would stand in the midst of the blood between the two halves (remember, blood is a symbol of power and life) and pronounce blessings and curses based upon fulfilling the terms of the covenant as is described in the Jeremiah passage.

Why was Abram so favored by God? He wasn’t from any special family, nor was he particularly wise. It was because he had faith—he was righteous. He was so righteous he could intercede with God on behalf of Sodom. This is later going to be a very important theme in the Pauline writings: membership in God’s people is through faith, not works or ancestry.

Psalm 27

This psalm is an exercise in building up one’s courage when feeling fearful and oppressed. It begins and ends with the author advising himself what to do to enable him to face the things that terrorize him. He starts with reminding himself that God is his “light and salvation,” God will provide guidance and protection. He ends with reminding himself to be patient and trust that God will come through.  This God has a personal, intimate relationship with the author—“MY light,” “MY salvation,” “the strength of MY life,” “MY helper.” Indeed this relationship is even more important than human kinship, since father and mother have forsaken the author (verse 10).

There are three sections to this psalm. Verses 1-6 talk about being strong and filled with faith. Verses 7-12 are in the form of a lament, not as confident as the beginning of the section, wavering and almost getting overwhelmed with the dangers that the author faces. Verses 13-14 are moving back toward confidence and trust, with verse 14 once again more sure that, eventually, God will “comfort your heart” in God’s own time.

Philippians 3:17-4:1

The biggest question confronting the early church in regards to proselytization was whether Gentile converts had to live according to Jewish law in order to be Christian. Early on the original apostles said yes; Paul (and later Peter) are going to be convinced that this is not necessary. It is this dispute that Paul is referring to. Those who disagree with him are condemned in some pretty strong terms here. Instead, the Christians at Philippi are asked to be like Paul and not try to be a member of the nation of Israel but a citizen of the heavenly kingdom. Outward signs, such as circumcision or Jewish dietary laws (“their god is the belly”), are unnecessary. The Pharisaic focus on strict adherence to hundreds of rules is a fixation upon earthly things, in Paul’s opinion, and he is speaking as a former Pharisee. This reminder about being citizens of the kingdom of God applied to the Philippians in another way, since residents of Philippi were given the privilege of being Roman citizens as well.

But let’s try to apply this to our situation. We may not have people in the Church attempting to force us to live according to the Law--- or do we? There certainly is a split in Christendom as well as in our own Anglican Communion between those who attempt to apply Levitical precepts to modern Christians.

Many people emphasize the self-denial part of Lent over the self-reflection part, and that line “their god is the belly” certainly strikes some of us, myself included, pretty vividly. Our society suffers from an emphasis on the material aspects of culture to the detriment of spiritual aspects. Our minds are usually set on earthly things. That’s the measure of success. But we are not called to be willing to settle for such a small life. We are called, as part of the Body of Christ, to bring about God’s kingdom here on earth. Salvation is not something that is an individual concern, salvation is setting the values of the world right, establishing a new creation that all partake in. Paul is asking the Philippians to be not just fans, but disciples-- to not just talk but walk the path that the cross of Christ sets out before us. We can’t be guided by our own desires, but be transformed into helping to bring about God’s kingdom in the world—and that means denying ourselves.

Luke 13:35-41

Jesus has been going through Galilee, healing and casting out demons in the face of opposition. He has also been answering questions about the nature of the kingdom of God. But he’s also been doing something else in almost all of these activities as well: he’s been criticizing the Pharisees. Just before this pericope, Jesus had told the parable of the narrow door (Luke 13:22-30), which implies that those who have resisted Jesus’ teaching will not be able to enter the Lord’s house. The verse just before this (Luke 13:30) repeats the adage that “some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.’ 

So it does seem a bit strange that it is Pharisees who come to warn Jesus that Herod wants to kill him. Remember Herod the Great, the one who was king when Jesus was born, who wanted to kill the baby Jesus when told about him by the Magi, and later slaughtered all the baby boys under the age of two (the Holy Innocents)? That Herod is not THIS Herod. This Herod is one of the original Herod’s sons: Herod Antipas, who has been given a fourth of Herod the Great’s kingdom to rule—the part that includes Galilee. And yet he is still pretty ruthless himself. It is this Herod who has imprisoned John the Baptist (Luke 3:20) and then later killed him (Luke 9:7). Jesus is warned by Pharisees of Herod’s intent to kill him, too. Why? It’s unclear, but we need to remember that most of Jesus’ ministry has been in Galilee thus far, and Jesus was a well-known former disciple (it is thought) of his cousin John.

So why do the Pharisees warn Jesus of impending danger? If we know the context, it could be that they are trying to silence Jesus and get him to abandon his ministry, which would certainly suit their purposes—lately Jesus’s ministry has been focused on attacking the Pharisees. Then there’s another thing implied by Jesus’s response: “Go and tell that fox….” Jesus knows the Pharisees have been in league with Herod, and Jesus implies that they still are. Perhaps this is all a ploy by Herod AND the Pharisees to drive Jesus out, somewhere else where he will be someone else’s problem.

Jesus sneers at the idea that he has anything to fear from this “fox.” This is an insult, since foxes are unclean, and they are attributed with the characteristics of being sneaky, slinking, cunning, and manipulative, living through stealth rather than through honest labor. He has important business—business that reinforces the difference between God’s kingdom, where healing and mercy, repentance and faith are the order of the day, and Herod’s family’s rule, full of malice and threatened murder of innocents. Jesus knows that he faces death, and he has embraced this and is at peace with it-- but it will not be at the hands of Herod. This section of the story, or pericope, only appears in Luke.

Jesus is clear, and he is resolute. He will not be shaken. He will go to Jerusalem, and in doing so he is fully aware that then his work will be done, and he knows what happens to prophets who go to Jerusalem. Zechariah was killed in Jerusalem by King Joash (2 Chronicles 24:20-22), and the prophet Uriah was murdered there too by King Jehoiakim (Jeremiah 26:20-23). Isaiah was from Jerusalem and ended up being sawed in two at Menasseh. 

But this does not shake his resolve. He mourns the fact that the people of Jerusalem are so recalcitrant, and reject his attempts to love and brood over them as a hen broods over her chicks. Jesus foretells the destruction of Jerusalem (“Your house will be left to you [desolate]”). Jerusalem will be left desolate because it has refused to obey God and rejected God’s son and prophet. The last line echoes what will be shouted when Jesus enters Jerusalem on Palm Sunday (Luke 19:37-38): “Blessed is the King who comes in the Name of the Lord!” which is a quote of Psalm 118:26.

Temptations and humility

Meditations on the Lectionary, 1st Sunday of Lent

http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearC_RCL/Lent/CLent1_RCL.html

One of the things that struck me was an underlying theme of humility. The Deuteronomy reading was reminding the people that, even before they enter the promised land, they should never forget that times have not always been good. They should show gratitude and humility to God for making the good times possible. God is going to bless them. There have been difficult times in their past. Never forget that God has been with them, even when they themselves have tried to shake off God and tried to make their own wants and concerns the center of their attention.

That's a tough thing to keep in our minds, especially here in America. We are the land of "rugged individualism." We like to think that anything we get, we get because WE as individuals have earned it. We didn't succeed through anything but our own hard work and effort. Now, true, there is a corollary to this: we succeeded because God blessed us over others, and that is a real temptation, too. You know what I mean: athletes claiming that God gave them their victories, which implies that God gave the other team its defeat. This idea is a temptation, too-- one we must be vigilant not to let creep into our thinking. You hear this when you hear some televangelist claim that God has blessed us or cursed us every time the next natural disaster or man-made tragedy hits. Being blessed by God doesn't divide us into "winners" and "losers."

The Gospel reading also talks about this temptation to exalt the self. The devil tempts Jesus with all the trappings that would make him appear to be a "winner:" plenty of food, political power, reducing God's relationship with Jesus into something in which Jesus manipulated God and gains the upper hand. Any of these temptations would lead to wonderful things-- the hungry would be fed, Jesus would be a true King, God's existence would be proven! Jesus just needs to make HIMSELF the main show.  Jesus just needs to be willing to take a few shortcuts, to make this "kingdom of God" thing match OUR expectations.

So why were each of these things so tempting? Fred Craddock and NT Wright have both made the important point that we are only tempted to do that which is within our power, and we justify giving into temptation because we judge the thing we are being tempted to do as good. Jesus had not yet engaged in his public ministry—this incident takes place before the reading of the Isaiah passage in the synagogue which was the subject three weeks ago during the 3^rd Sunday after Epiphany. The devil is going to present Jesus with three alternative paths, paths which would appear to be capable of being used to achieve great good. Feeding the hungry by making loaves of bread pop up out of the stones scattered about? Having God’s son exercise political power and drive out all oppressors with their false gods? Having God prove himself? Wouldn’t all of these things be amazing?

But these are not what God has planned. God’s kingdom on earth will be established through different means—not according to what WE would want, but by establishing that “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

Jesus turns aside each temptation with scripture, including from today’s psalm, and even the devil quotes scripture in a great game of Biblical one-upmanship. Jesus’s source is Deuteronomy. In response to the temptation of bread, Jesus quotes Deuteronomy 8:3—“He humbled you by letting you hunger, then by feeding you with manna, with which neither you nor your ancestors were acquainted, in order to make you understand that one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.”

In response to the temptation of political power in exchange for worshipping the devil, Jesus quotes Deuteronomy 6:13—“The Lord your God you shall fear; him you shall serve, and by his name alone you shall swear.”

 

In response to the temptation to test God, the devil quotes todays psalm, 91:11-12—“For he will command his angels concerning you
 to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up,
 so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” Jesus responds with Deuteronomy 6:16—“Do not put the Lord your God to the test, as you tested him at Massah.”  This refers to the incident in Exodus 17 where God, through Moses, made water flow from a stone.

The devil gives up temporarily here, but not for good. Temptation is always there. Always being humble and examining our motives helps us to overcome this temptation. Until an hour from now, when we will be tempted all over again.

no great cathedral...

i am a little church (no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor
of hurrying cities - i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are the prayers of earth's own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying) children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness

around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope, and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains

I am a little church (far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish) at peace with nature
- i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing

winter by spring, I lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)

--- e. e. cummings

A prayer for fathers

Loving God, we thank you for fathers. 

We thank you for biological fathers, adopted fathers, and fathers in spirit. 

We thank you for fathers who work hard every day to help fulfill the needs of their families, who fix broken things and teach us how to do it ourselves, who embrace us and guide us, who love us even when they don't understand us. 

We know they reflect and embody your love for us as our heavenly Father. 

Comfort those of us who miss our fathers this day, and strengthen and bless those fathers who work so hard to love, protect, and nurture their families this day and every day. Amen.

Love and Understanding: A meditation upon 1 Corinthians 13

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, 

but do not have love, 

I am a noisy gong 

or a clanging cymbal.

And if I have prophetic powers, 

and understand all mysteries 

and all knowledge, 

and if I have all faith, 

so as to remove mountains, 

but do not have love, 

I am nothing. 

If I give away all my possessions, 

and if I hand over my body 

so that I may boast, 

but do not have love, 

I gain nothing.

Love is patient; 

love is kind; 

love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. 

It does not insist on its own way; 

it is not irritable or resentful; 

it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, 

but rejoices in the truth. 

It bears all things, 

believes all things, 

hopes all things, 

endures all things.

Love never ends. 

But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; 

as for tongues, they will cease; 

as for knowledge, it will come to an end. 

For we know only in part, 

and we prophesy only in part; 

but when the complete comes, 

the partial will come to an end. 

When I was a child, 

I spoke like a child, 

I thought like a child, 

I reasoned like a child; 

when I became an adult, 

I put an end to childish ways. 

For now we see in a mirror, dimly,

but then we will see face to face. 

Now I know only in part; 

then I will know fully, 

even as I have been fully known. 

And now faith, hope, and love abide, 

these three; 

and the greatest of these 

is love.

Seven years ago today, my father passed away. I was holding his hand and urging him to let go. It had not been an easy transition, and he had ceased calling out to long-dead friends and relatives that my mother believed were visiting Dad and urging him to cross over. I want to believe that. But at the time it was like listening in to a one-sided phone conversation into eternity.

I prayed for him to go. And yet I was not prepared for the shock when his pulse fluttered beneath my fingers. My world shifted on its axis so perceptibly that I felt dizzy. I suddenly realized that I was almost the age he was when I was born and had a brief self-centered thought that he had known me for half his life. And yet, we certainly knew each other imperfectly. Especially, when I was a child, there were things he did that were absolutely incomprehensible to me. It was only later, when I was an adult with children of my own, that I realized the same was certainly true about me to him and to my own children. We are often not transparent to those we love due to their own wounds and trigger points, but also because we WANT to be opaque, thinking that that may protect us from being hurt by those same ones before whom we are vulnerable because we love them.

And yet do we ever know those we love? Author Norman Maclean commented on this in his beautiful story, A River Runs Through It, which was made into a lovely film by Robert Redford. One of the most perfect scenes in the film is at the end. Norman's father, a Presbyterian minister, is preaching a sermon right before he retires, and is referencing the loss of his wilder, troubled, younger son and on the mystery of family relationships:

“Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them - we can love completely without complete understanding.” 

My father was not a perfect man, but I certainly wasn't a perfect daughter, and it's funny how, in the end, the many ways that our loved ones may have failed us begin to pale as we consider all the small ways they gifted us and blessed us and strengthened us and enveloped us. We all do the best we can-- or at least try to, and hope we don't irreparably hurt each other along the way. The river of our life runs over the rocks and under the rocks that make up all that has happened to us or that we have done. That river looks like it is being redirected by the rocks, but eventually with time the rocks themselves are carved and smoothed and reshaped by the rocks. Love can do that too.

Hopefully, if that happens, we get the chance to try to make amends to those we love-- and we then seize that chance and act upon it, which is often an entirely different source of potential failure and regret.

I once watched some Tibetan Buddhist monks crafting a sand mandala. I was lucky enough to observe it just as they were completing this intense, intricate piece of artwork. After they finished it, they paused, and then they swiped across it, destroying the beautiful image they had just spent so long deliberately creating and then just as deliberately destroying. The entire process had taken days, and it was finished for only a few moments, and then it was gone.

Too often we spend too many hours creating a mandala out of our resentments instead of the love with which we have been blessed. But instead of examining the mandala of collected wrongs that we paint in sand, we need to smear our palms across our handiwork of anger and let the wind carry the grains of sand away.  Hopefully, if we have been hurt, we allow the person who has hurt us to return to us as well. We certainly cannot truly live while we clasp the iron weight of resentment to our hearts and cram it into the space in our hearts where love belongs, instead. A work like this takes time, and oh, if we could have that time back! What if we spent that time trying to build a true labor of love, focusing on the beauty of a conversation with a parent, and reminding ourselves of the good others try to do for us and that we do for them?

We have to remember and embrace the unblunted wisdom in the lines of one of my favorite songwriter/ poets, Mary Chapin Carpenter: "Forgiveness doesn't come with a debt." 

No matter what, my father's presence in my life was and will always remain an absolute force in my life. Love is that. It molds us and shapes us. We long for it, yet we don't give away enough of it ourselves.

And yet, love is what we are called to do. Both the messy, intimate, personal love between lovers, between parents and children, between friends, between siblings, and the love we are called to bear toward each other in our churches, our communities, our world. Our love for each other moves us toward the hope of who we are really supposed to be, of who we are intended to be.

Unlike God, we are imperfect lovers. We are faltering friends. We are capricious children. Our hesitant attempts at love lead to imperfect knowledge. This is because our attempts at love are imperfect as well. But there is perfect love. And it is the greatest of all gifts given to us.

Intercessory Prayer 14

Almighty God, our trust is in you, whose abiding love soothes all fear and worry. We cry out to you and you envelop us in your love as we pass through the cares and concerns of this life. We thank you for your goodness and mercy which follows us all the days of our lives. Guard, strengthen, and comfort, we pray, your children whom we now name, and uphold them in their need. Amen.

Seeing what is there

The readings for yesterday in the lectionary have as a common theme community and God's abundance. Isaiah 62:1-5 calls out for a nation to be restored through God's abundant love and mercy. Psalm 36: 5-10 also reminds us that God's love is limitless and prepares a feast for us. 1 Corinthians 12:1-11 urges a community to come together in the face of the urge to divide ourselves according to honor rather than understand that unity is vital to live as the body of Christ.

The reading from John details the miracle at the wedding at Cana. As I was reminded in the wonderful sermon I heard yesterday in church, Jesus' mother notices there is no wine, and her initially hesitant son restores abundance to the feast in the face of disaster, with the help of a lot of servants who had to carry a lot of water. Jesus performs this miracle with the help of the community.

These are the readings we heard yesterday. Today, we remember the work of the Rev. Dr. Martin LUther King, Jr. And then, an even further blessing, we witness the demonstration of the blessing of living in a stable democratic republic. Today, we witnessed the second inauguration of President Obama. In his speech, he quoted the Declaration of Independence as well as referencing the Gettysburg Address, he reminded my generation's task to make these words real for every American: that we are endowed  by our Creator with Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. These are inalienable rights, and they belong to all. God's limitless love provides abundance for us through unmerited grace.

We have once again been reminded by several people during the ceremony, beginning with Senator Lamar Alexander, with the inaugural address from the president, with the poem by Richard Blanco, and with the closing invocation by the Rev. Luis Leon, that we are ONE people, and that we must overcome our divisions. And then, we heard this further echo from yesterday's readings in the prayer given by the Rev. Leon: 

"We pray for your blessing because without it, we will only see scarcity in the midst of abundance..." 

A few years ago, we were driving through Yosemite, and we saw this tree growing out of the living rock, right before a sheer drop. In the background was a magnificent waterfall. I thought about that seed that years ago was blown across the rock until it found a crevice, and  perhaps a little rain fell that encouraged it to sprout. It spread out its embrace into the rock, took root, and thrived.

Instead of bemoaning what is not there, let us understand that we therefore have an opportunity to act, to be the agents of change that make the miracle of abundance for all possible. Even if we may feel that "our time is not yet come." Instead of thinking that we do not have enough, that we are clinging to a precipice, instead of conflating difficulty with impossibility, let us take hold and determine to flourish by each taking responsibility for what we can do.

May Almighty God preserve us from the tendency to close our eyes to the blessings all around us. May we see what is there, and make sure that abundance is available for all. May we see God's abundant love for us even in the midst of our trials and understand that the work of all of us is required to bring about the miracle. Amen. 

Mutual Prayer Circle, Day 2: Loving, Almighty God

Loving, Almighty God, you have called us to be your children and you embrace us every moment. You set the stars in their courses yet keep your eye on the sparrow, and we know that joy in you is our strength as we abide forever in the shadow of the Most High. We thank and praise you for your faithful love for us even when we despair. Watch over and strengthen and comfort, we pray, these your beloved children.


Amen.

Crusty Old Dean and the 2013 General Ordination Exams

One of my favorite things to do as I get a little more involved in twitter (now doing my own feed and the one for my church, because, you know, as a mom, daughter, teacher, and church-junkie I don't have enough in my life) is reading some of the hilarious things that trend.

Sometimes, I just shake my head at some of the strange topics that bloom  from the collective need twitteristas have to get some attention (hey, not pointing the finger except at myself).

Right now one of the trending topics among we of the Episcopalian variety has been about General Ordination Exams. So far, Crusty Old Dean (already someone whom I find wildly entertaining and informative) has the best post that has been tweeted.

So, if there's anyone out there, I am asking you to consider reading this post: http://crustyoldean.blogspot.com/2013/01/blogging-goes-question-1-wtf-out-of-gate.html. It had me laughing to myself with a nice soupcon of "there-but-for-the-grace-of-God-go-I." As someone who has seen AP US history exam questions that simply defy all reason, I could certainly relate to this post on a variety of levels.

Thanks, Crusty Old Dean.

Redribbon Foxes

Waiting, Watching, Hoping

Christmas fatigue.

This is a special form of chronic illness that strikes me earlier, every year it seems.

This year, it began when I saw Halloween decorations in the stores in August. That then made me realize that it would only be about a month until Christmas decorations started going up.

I was wrong. It was only two weeks.

Yes, friends, I saw chocolate Christmas candy shaped like nutcrackers on the counters of my local 7-11 in September. That means that if you consider solving your Christmas candy jones actually nearer the Christmas season, you will be eating chocolate candy that's probably five months old after sitting out at room temperature that entire time.

But that, of course, is just trivia.

I welcome anyone to celebrate Christmas starting whenever they want. I personally do like observing Advent, though. It is nice to make ourselves wait, and watch, and hope in a time when I can get almost any book I want in ten seconds on my iPad, when we get impatient if a webpage loads less-than-instantaneously. This stepping-back-and-waiting is made all the more precious since I am singing in our church choir, so we have been singing Christmas music since October, I think. I am already beginning to loathe some of these songs, man, and it is not the songs' fault.

It is even more important to hope at this time of year. I personally go into a funk over the fact that it is dark at 5 pm, and so the candles on the Advent Wreath remind me that light can give hope to the darkest corners of our life, just as that Christ child is going to bring light to the world. This is something we can cling to in the cold winter months. This is something we can be grateful for at a time when gratitude gets drowned out.

Maybe I'll ease into it with a little "Vassourinhas" by Yo-Yo Ma.

Of C. S. Lewis, Heaven and Hell

“There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, in the end, "Thy will be done." All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self-choice there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. Those who knock it is opened. ” -- C. S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Today is the 114th birthday of C. S. Lewis. Therefore, I have included one of my favorite theological quotes of his. It is a thought-provoking reflection on the implications of free will on salvation, and it is a quote I think of every time I hear someone talking about how Gandhi is roasting in Hell. Oh, and by the way? Stop that. Thanks!

Happy birthday, Mr. Lewis!

Prayer for Election Day, and Every Day

Almighty, Loving God: We thank you for the blessings you have given this nation. Help us, we pray, to live out the words of the motto of our Great Seal--E Pluribus Unum. Help us to truly become from many people, one people, united by love and concern for this country, but more importantly, love and care for each other, animated by charity and wisdom in all we do. Grant us, we pray, a sense of caritas and discernment on this day, and the willingness to exercise these gifts for the sake of our government and our leaders. Make them a blessing unto us, and more importantly to our world, which is a part of your glorious creation. We humbly ask this in Your Holy Name. Amen.

Camera Obscura

 Mark 8:27-38

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they answered him, ‘John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.’ He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah.’ And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him. 

Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’ 

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, ‘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, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.’ (Gospel for Proper 19, September 16)

Who do I say that Jesus is? Notice that Jesus asks who we SAY that he is, not who we THINK he is. Who do we proclaim Jesus to be, and how do we act upon that proclamation which we make with our words as well as our actions, we who identify as Christians?

If I was a member of the Jesus Seminar, I might talk about the historical Jesus-- a peasant at the edge of empire who may or may not have actually existed, a demythologized God--- which to me, takes away exactly what Jesus means. If I was a fundamentalist, I might say the future judge of my soul, the warrior Lamb whose return will sweep the righteous up to glory while leaving the unsaved to suffer through an age of plague and pestilence followed by eternal torment, or I might talk about him as my buddy, my co-pilot, my help, my rock, someone with whom I have a "personal relationship."

Jesus is many of these things, yes, all at once. But if I was going to use a metaphor to describe the indescribable, I would probably describe Jesus as the aperture between the kingdom of heaven and the life we live.

When I was younger, I once saw a pinhole camera, otherwise known as a camera obscura. There was a lightproof, small room. We seated ourselves on the floor facing a wall, and in the wall behind us there was a tiny hole. The activity outside the room was projected upside down onto the wall in front of us. The tiny hole, or aperture, reflected that scene beyond our room quite clearly. But because the image was upside down, it was still hard to fully comprehend the images. Our orientation was wrong, and it took a while to adjust to the different perspective and make sense of what we were being shown.

I had wanted to see one of these pinhole cameras since I had read a description of one in a book, maybe Cannery Row or Sweet Thursday by John Steinbeck, and he describes one of the main characters dancing across the wall upside down of the protagonist's laboratory. So here I was with the chance to see a camera obscura and experience this for myself.

At first, when we sat down, we were just in the dark in a small room. But once the aperture was revealed, and our eyes adjusted to the dark so that we could see, we could see something new, something outside and beyond us, a new truth, dancing just as Steinbeck described, upside down, Stare at the images long enough, and eventually I was the one who felt like I was upside down. I almost felt like I was about to fall on my head, like I was a bat hanging from the roof of a cave, like when my elementary gym teacher had us compete with each other to see who could hold a headstand the longest.

Perhaps Jesus is like the aperture in a  camera obscura. He is the opening between two worlds and two truths. He shows us things that are outside our perception, things which we have walled ourselves off from. He is the means through which we can see that which is eternal. But what he describes, what he projects, makes us feel disoriented, since it literally turns the world and the world's workings upside down. He is God incarnate (a paradox to our cynical minds), the Son of Man who moves between heaven and Earth and tries to translate to our limited understanding what we are called to be and how we are called to live.

Look how he sets us on our heads: "For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?"

 This is a very hard teaching to most of us. We are attached to the two lives most of us have, to the lives we have built and to the lives we plan for ourselves. We have PLANS, Jesus! Can we get back to you later about that taking up our cross stuff? And yet Jesus asks us to give these up to follow him, to be his true disciples rather than merely his fans or friends or hangers-on. Of course we want what Dietrich Bonhoeffer derisively called "cheap grace"-- Jesus has saved me, the gift is freely given, so let's just go about our business with that nifty little "get out of jail" card in our wallets, keeping our hearts and minds and souls and actions safely insulated from any sacrifice of WHAT WE WANT and WHAT WE HAVE PLANNED. Like Peter, we want Jesus to be who WE want. We want our life in Christ to be able to be fit easily into our schedule.

Then some of us interpret this teaching as an "either-or" proposition. Are we walled into that little room forever? Or can we supposed to DO something with this knowledge right here where we are? Could it be that Jesus is calling us to live our lives, yes, but grounded in something more eternal, more true than either a monastic denial of the world or a callous embrace of the world's principles while claiming that lifeline of salvation. The image of salvation that Jesus projects before us is of course rooted in this world but focused on bringing the eternal Love into a world that sometimes we have made so broken? Calling us to reorient ourselves on the compass of what is good and what is true and what is beautiful, to see that we live in the midst of God's kingdom? 

We see through Jesus what is real and what is eternal. There is a reason why he refers to himself as "the Way, and the Truth, and the Life." Yes, he shows us how to live partly though his death-- a further paradox. If we spend enough time changing contemplation into action, we can open the door of that camera obscura that we usually spend most of our lives in and carry our new, reoriented understanding of what the place we are called to inhabit in the kingdom of heaven right here where we are.

Aperture

Open the window and you want to fly out,

though you never actually do—

I think I see you, still there on the ledge,

where I've left you.

How pulled-awake and flung

can one life be?

Again I thought, It will end.

Again I promised and clung.

I learned there that   

to cling was in my nature.

I think I see you, though you flash

quickly through the shutter.

I think I hear you, though I sleep.

Remember this as a bolero,

a finite flaring—

both the tulip tree   

burning in full bloom

and the weeping silver birch.

---Jennifer Tonge, 2005

Heaven beneath our feet

Buddhists have a practice they call "mindfulness." It is based upon the idea of being fully present and aware of each action one takes. Each step becomes a meditation. Each step becomes an awakening to the connectedness of all things, and to the blessing of all things in our lives. Further, considering each action makes us aware of the impact we have on others.

We Christians have much to learn from this. Our time is not ours to do with as we will. It is lent to us to be used for good- to recognize and celebrate the holy in the most mundane things and the most fleeting of acquaintances. Christ walks among us if only we are willing to see him. Christ asks us to walk in love with him and each other, especially here in this world.

Perhaps so many of us search for meaning and purpose simply because we forget the grace that infuses every moment. We live in the world, but the world is not to be despised. This is where the kingdom of heaven begins, where its foundation is laid, where its doors open to welcome all inside. But we have to be there to open the doors, with a heart filled with gratitude for the good things and a smile of welcome on our lips.

Unexpected gift

We have been experiencing a pretty severe drought here in the Land Between the Coasts. I can actually count the three times it has rained since the summer began. This had made me feel somewhat in touch with my Okie forebears, although we have only had two years of below-average rainfall, not ten. However, the weather service has now confirmed that here in Missouri, at least, we have just experienced the hottest summer on record. You know it's pretty bad when 94 degrees feels cool.

But it rained last night. First came the lightning off in the distance, then came the thunder and wind, and then rain. It was so welcome. Even though of course it was not enough, it was still a blessing.

I was sitting in my car this morning while reading. In between pages I would watch my daughter's field hockey practice. They play in a desiccated brown field full of crispy grass and weeds. Yesterday, a man perfunctorily mowed this field, even though the grass had remained in a state of stasis due to the extreme conditions. Instead of Sleeping Beauty, it was Sleeping Ugly.

There were tiny oases of green visible here and there across the sienna expanse, but those were weeds. It's always that way. When the shit goes down, it's the weeds that thrive. It often seems like that with people, too. I don't know about you, but sometimes that just drives me crazy.

Then my eyes scanned and saw one small shocking flash of color jump out from the landscape. There was a tiny yelp of purple hanging low among the clumps of fescue and thatch. A fluted flower-- belonging, yes, to some weed.

What could be more unlikely than beauty in such sere surroundings? What could be more stubborn than this small flower determined to bloom just here regardless of its improbability? What else could remind me that even in the most drab and dingy places there is grace and beauty if only we open our eyes?

And suddenly the weed was transformed into a miracle.

Complete Love Without Complete Understanding

I love the book (and the movie version) of Norman Maclean's A River Runs Through It. The story of a family of two sons, love of nature, and our longing to understand those we love is just so beautiful and true. One of my favorite lines is this one below. In the story, a grown Norman listens with his family to one of his father's last sermons. His father says this:

“Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don't know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them - we can love completely without complete understanding.”-- Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It 

So many of us have someone in our lives whom we love but cannot help. All of our natural inclinations and ethical impulses demand that we step in, but this person is as unreachable as a distant star. For a long time, I have been confronted with the misery of such a one. Madness, sadness, resentment, delusion, anger and denial create a magnetic field of misery that pervades this one's waking life, and I cannot even imagine what dreams they may have. I do know that they need love most of all, and yet they cannot accept love when offered.  When we hate ourselves, we cannot love anyone nor accept love from anyone. It is like trying to grow an orchid in the desert.

Our loved ones often cannot understand us, and we cannot understand them. When we speak of love, they think of that which they can gain and from which they can profit. They are drowning, dragged down by the sorrows of the past. They are confused between what they want, and what they need. They demand more things, when what they need is more love. They try to feed their stomach, but they need to feed their heart.

Last week we heard about the feeding of the multitude. They had gone to hear the Word of God, and then received bread to feed their bodies as well. Jesus fed them out of love for them, but the real miracle was the Word. I've always imagined that most of those who were fed by the bread were unaware of the miraculous nature of the feeding, or more would have been made of it. Many of them were unaware of the even bigger miracle of being physically in the presence of God. They walked away knowing only that their temporary appetite had been satiated.

It was the same thing with the crowd in this Sunday's gospel reading. They were busy taking about filling their stomachs, when Jesus was talking about feeding their hearts and their souls. 

John 6:24-35:

So when the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus. When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” 

Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.”

Then they said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” 

Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” 

So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” 

Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” 

They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty."

The bread of life begins in love. I hope we all are willing to open ourselves to that bread, which will feed us forever. Amen.