Abide in Me and I in You

The imagery of the vine and branches, (John 15:1-8),  depict a beautiful intimate relationship between the Father, Jesus, and us as an intimate dwelling place.

The "you" in the passage is always plural, because the connectedness associated in "lovingly abiding," enjoins us all with the Father and Son in one dynamic relationship that challenges a long-standing interpretation that would prefer to keep God at arms length.

Far from being a “thou shalt not God" of rules or a cosmic judge who exercises power as the preserver of conventional morality, an oxymoronic phrase, John reveals a different role for the Father than the way we may have been originally taught to believe. Instead, He offers us the promise of new life in the present as Jesus' words become flesh in us, and continue to dwell  within and among us. “And his commandment is this: believe in the name of Jesus and love one another as He commanded us.” (John 3:18-21)

In the imagery of the vine, God’s presence is underscored as abiding, nourishing, lasting, and permanent. Just as Jesus is intimately related to the Father, we, the branches, can do nothing unless we abide in relationship with Jesus, the means to the Father. When we relate to Jesus in all that we do, we are connected to the Father. As such, Jesus’ two-fold promise, I AM the vine, you are the branches…is not said as a command or in judgment, but rather as an invitation and a promise. This promise is emphasized as he repeatedly reminds us that without him in our lives, we are powerless and can do nothing.

The promise abiding in…living-in…Jesus is not for its own sake, or an end in itself. Jesus is revealing a dynamic and changing life for us. Vines are pruned and cleansed. Branches that wither and die are removed. We, as the branches in the vine, are a constantly changing community that is called to follow his word by actively living his word. And in keeping with the stewardship of good shepherds, we as branches grow and become vines are nourished and nourish…By this is my Father glorified that you will bear much fruit…

 All those who take refuge in Me, whatever their birth, race, gender, or caste, even those whom society scorns will attain the supreme destination…fill your mind with me; love me; serve me, and worship me always. Seeking me in your heart, you will at last be united with me.

 Chapter 9, Verse 32 – Bhagavad Gita, The Song of God – 

My Sheep Hear My Voice and Follow Me

I grew up in Brooklyn, NY in the 40's and ‘50s. We lived in a two–family house in the Bay Ridge area, It was a carefree time of life, a time in which doors merely marked certain boundaries. For the most part, we were not so afraid of others inappropriately crossing them. In the early years it was not always necessary to lock our doors, and when we finally did, my father kept a key in the Borden's milk box on the porch or left one with our upstairs neighbor. Even as children, we could safely come and go within the confines of our defined limitations. Playing in someone else's backyard or "alleyway" was common as there were no fences between houses on my block, just fences separating the houses on the street  around the corner, which didn't matter anyway since we were not permitted to leave our street without permission and letting our parents know. (I'm reminded of the current international crisis in Israel, Palestine, Iran and of course Ukraine...still looming but off the front page for a while. It's too bad the freedom we enjoyed in our neighborhood as children could not apply. I guess it all changed, even in our old neighborhood when people wanted what the other guy had, even if they weren't entitled because they had yet to earn it.)

Perhaps the only time in those formative years that I was aware of heightened concern for safety was during the polio epidemic. While as children, our need to process the true impact of this "plague" was limited and I suppose that was a good thing; the published photos of children in iron lungs were to this day, indelibly printed in my memory. It’s hard to contrast that time with today’s Covid19. For the most part our only news media were the radio and newspapers. In the early days of television, news broadcasts were relatively short and not very comprehensive. All in all, as long as we stayed in our “sheepfold” we, as children, went about our days without concern.

While gates and doors serve as boundaries to permit entry and exit and security, they also demarcate a safe place, home. In our Gospel (John 10: 11-18) Jesus, the Good Shepherd, is portrayed as a “gate” and a caretaker. Our frame of reference for a shepherd does not likely fit with the image of the shepherd in Jesus' time . Is there any more powerful artistic depiction of compassion in our Christian heritage than the image of Jesus the Good Shepherd ? For me it's the famous painting of Jesus with the lamb draped around his neck and over his shoulder that hung on the wall  of my grade school classroom, and depicted in our church’s stained glass window. Yet, when Jesus lived and John wrote his Gospel, shepherds were among the most disreputable and mistrusted outcasts of society. Shepherds were drifters with no fixed address and because of their occupation, they were perpetually unclean and, by definition, in violation of Jewish law. These outcasts are the very people John’s gospel is talking about. So comparing Jesus to a shepherd and then later calling this very shepherd “good” seems at the very least, a paradox.

When Jesus proclaims that “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me” he characterizes his role as a loving protector. There were no actual gate in sheepfolds; rather, the shepherd would stand, sit or lie down at the entrance to the pasture. In this way the shepherd could serve as protector of his sheep. He knew his sheep and they knew him. John purposely contrasted Jesus, the Good Shepherd, with disreputable religious rulers of his time who exploited their congregations.

Jesus clearly spells out his role as the Father’s steward when he says I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.

Word to Word

 

Over the years I’ve come to appreciate that “spiritual development” has less and less to do with religion. And while the Church, the Bible and the liturgy are important to our development, spiritual formation is more about learning to discern the call of God “outside,” in our everyday lives. Spiritual Formation is an ongoing dynamic process in which we develop the tools to be able to see and align ourselves with people, places and things where God is at work. I know this might sound like heresy but in some ways religion or “being locked in the upper room” and not being involved in the world, can become a static process that lulls us to sleep in its repetitive sameness. As such, it can become an obstacle to our call to “bear witness” to God’s Word to those outside the safety of our “upper rooms.”

In a real sense we are preaching to the choir! We in the comfort and security of our Church community, are like the apostles in the upper room after the Crucifixion. When Jesus appeared to the apostles and Thomas, he said “... As the Father has sent me, so I send you." He beckons us as he did his disciples, to leave the upper room and live our lives outside the walls of our Church as we engage in Christian practices that are fundamental to human needs, and may have nothing to do with religion but everything to do with faith. As such, we join with one another, and with Jesus, and with the Communion of Saints across time and space in a way of life that proclaims Christ’s victory over death and our eternal life. (Luke 24:25-38)

Now in bearing witness to the Word, I'm not talking about "life-style evangelism." That term for many of us, may evoke discomfort and have a strange connotation. We bear witness that is, tell someone about, the movies or television programs we've seen and want others to enjoy. We share the accomplishments (or failures) of our sports teams. We share important events in our family or work lives. We share photos of loved ones and acknowledge milestones. We bear witness to the things that matter to us all the time. But do we bear witness to the presence of God, the Love, in all things in the here and now of our lives?

Witnessing is not really all that different when it comes to faith. It does not mean forcing our beliefs on someone or shunning those who do not believe as we do. The ego tries to convince, while love shares. To witness is simply to communicate with others as we know God’s presence…as the Word becomes flesh in us and those we encounter… by Him and with Him and in Him in the unity of the Holy Spirit.

My Lord and My God

 

In many ways we are just like Thomas; aren’t we? We really don’t want to come by our faith second hand (John20:19-31). Our parents taught us that something worth having was something worth working for? So, we ask; is there really such a thing as “blind faith?” Blind faith does not encourage us to probe; it denies us the opportunity to question, to know what we believe intuitively, in our “core.” Blind faith requires minimal spiritual investment and permits those inclined to cruise through their spiritual journey without the opportunity to really live life’s joy and danger. True faith requires knowing what we believe…beyond any doubt. So, Thomas in refusing to say that he understood what he did not understand, or believe what he did not believe, exhibited an honesty that prompted his need to know. 

Thomas wasn’t the faithless doubter. The so-called faithful disciples remained locked up in the upper room hiding in fear. Fear not doubt gets in the way of our letting the Holy Spirit take charge. Where did Thomas go while others were in hiding? What prompted him to return to his community? Was Thomas “working” at trying to know what he was asked to believe? Thomas wanted the experience of a deeper vision or sight. He was unwilling to blindly accept; it had to be real for him.

True faith is based on trust in God. True faith knows we can deepen our faith by asking critical questions of our traditions and our “inherited” belief propositions. We do this by leaving our comfort zones and living in new ways. Thomas’ encounter with the risen Lord challenges us to know what we believe so for us as, with Thomas, we too can personally acclaim “My Lord and my God.”

Why Easter Is a Sacrament

 It's only natural to think of Easter and the Resurrection as a miracle; after all Christ’s rising from the dead is extraordinary and outside the realm of human experience. Yet, calling Easter a miracle diminishes its importance and makes the event exclusively God’s purview and removes us from having anything to do with it. This was not God’s intent because God’s Divine incarnation in Jesus and Jesus’ death and resurrection were for our salvation and not for God's benefit. This point is reaffirmed in John's Gospel from  two weeks ago: "The voice did not come for my sake but for yours...And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself."  God did not need Jesus' death or resurrection.  

 

God performs miracles but man celebrate sacraments. While God works a miracles interdependent from man, man is essential to the presence of a sacrament. A sacrament requires our participation for its very existence. 

Easter is never more "sacramental" than when one man gives his life for another. Christians seek to make Easter sacramental in their lives by their memory of Jesus through their words and deeds.

John Calvin wrote that becoming Son of man with us, he made us sons of God with him; that by his descent to earth, he has prepared an ascent to heaven for us; that by taking on out mortality, he has conferred his immortality upon us; that accepting our weakness, he has strengthened us by his power; that receiving our poverty unto himself, he has transferred our wealth to us; that taking the weight of our iniquity upon himself (which oppressed us), he has clothed us with his righteousness. (Kruger, The Shack Revisited, p. 197) 

Jesus became incarnate to teach us how to live our lives and abide in Him through Jesus. Each time we celebrate the Eucharist and say “in him through him and with him,”  we are reminded of our participation in his birth, death and resurrection. (John 20:1-9) (Adapted from Dawn without Darkness, Anthony Padovano, p78)

The Power of Love Vs. The Love of Power

 

Every year the Roman army would come marching into Palestine during Passover. It was Pilate, the governor in the time of Jesus, who led the parade riding a white stallion, a symbol of Rome’s dominance. The parade was a reminder to the Jews not to cause trouble during Passover. As if to challenge Roman oppression, Jesus rode a donkey, a lowly beast of burden, in the opposite direction, entering through the gate from which Pilate exited. (Mark 11:1-10)

 Pilate needed a whole legion to demonstrate his importance and control; however, Jesus’ “power” was rooted in the love of God. It was the power of love vs. the love of power on parade. The gospel writers tell us that this event was not accidental. Jesus planned it ahead of time. He knew he was risking the wrath of Rome by provoking Pilate. 

Contrary to some long-held beliefs, Jesus was not ransomed for us, but rather, he took and continues to take our place for the trials of our human existence. So then, why the cross? The cross was used by the Romans to not only destroy the identity of the one who was crucified, but to erase his mission and send a warning to any of his followers to “cease and desist.” Ironically, in the first century AD the cross was reviled as an image to be kept out of sight as it, on the surface, was a grim reminder of the despicable event on Good Friday. In time, however, the cross became the central symbol of our faith…a symbol that reminds us that the journey does not end with Jesus’ death but we, along with Jesus are resurrected to eternal life. The cross reminds us that death has no power over us because we live in the light of the resurrection of a “nobody” who was raised up as we will be. God is in the midst of our human experience. 

 

Now, I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now.

 

 

 

Everything Must Change; Nothing Stays the Same

 Let’s face it change can be unsettling; it requires our leaving our comfort zone and adjusting to a new way of doing things. Change can be as subtle as using a new pen, sitting in a different chair at dinner, or as profound as losing a job or a loved one. Some changes are optional; others are forced on us. In all instances change is associated with anything from temporary discomfort to long-standing emotional pain. 

Our Gospel lesson (John 12:20-33) suggests that the incarnation of God changed everything through Jesus: through his birth, his life, his teachings, and especially through his dying and rising to new life. It’s a message of hope that God is working in this world to make everything new through Jesus. Yet we know the birth of new life is not without pain. Childbirth is more than a metaphor for life; it is life itself, but it’s preceded by dark days of preparation, ultimately yielding to pain and eventually new life.

Meister Eckhart writes that human nature is like a stable inhabited by the ox of passion and the ass of prejudice; our ego gives these animals permission to reside and most of us quietly feed. And between them, painfully pushing them out, as in childbirth, that Christ must be born, and laid in their own manger. (Evelyn Underhill, “The Light of the World,” Watch for the Light, 2008)

Christ is the essence of God’s love, and his birth is the birth of love in our souls. This birth in us is for a purpose beyond ourselves in that the love of God can only be manifest in the world through us.

How will we surrender to our new life? What changes will we make? How are we preparing during these dark, passively aggressive days of Lent. Change does not happen automatically. 

In a very real sense, if we are to experience the new life that God offers us, we must open ourselves to God’s will and allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Sure, we’d much rather avoid any kind of difficulty or discomfort and just stay in the same old rut we’ve been in. But change requires us to resist the ways we typically use to avoid difficult decisions and discomfort. 

Following the will of God requires persistence and in some cases may result in personal upheaval. It’s not easy to resist the tendency to avoid discomfort that ultimately heals and transforms us into a new life.

That sounds out of reach and even harsh. But in a very real sense it can be as simple as aligning ourselves with God’s peace and compassion by reaching out to others in need. When we make changes in our lives, we’re not just engaged in a self-help project! We’re opening ourselves to the change that God has already made through Jesus, and that God continues to make in all our lives. Everything must change; nothing stays the same.

To everything there is a season, turn, turn, turn

 

Does Practice make Perfect?

Considerable conflict existed among “Jewish Christians” when John wrote his gospel (John 3:14-21). Jewish followers of Christ had to deal with the pain of being ejected from their synagogues as well as ostracized by their families and friends. The very foundation and center of their lives were gone. In a time when family and community were virtually the sole basis for identity, we can understand how difficult it was to be a follower of Jesus.

Extreme rejection from family, friends and the community at large often results in a pattern of negative thinking and a mindset that characterizes everyone as being either for or against us. Although Jesus' teachings may have helped followers to cultivate a new sense of identity, they were still banished from the elements of society that was “home.” 

Fast forwarding to our day and time, March 4, 2024 it's apparent that this duality of either for or against, prevails in virtually every aspect of our lives: family, religion and politics. Look how polarized our world is: Palestine/Israel; Ukraine; Immigration; Biden/Trump; Democrat/Republican. Just pick an area of contention and  we're hard pressed  to find any reasonable common ground; it's always either or.

When Jesus professes Gods’ unconditional love for the whole world, not either or, He affirms Nicodemus whoa as a faithful Jew and a Pharisee, has accepted Christ’s teachings, . 

It reminds us about the kind of courage that love requires from us. In John’s Gospel, faith is more than stating a set of beliefs or worshiping in the "right place." Faith, like becoming a musical virtuoso, requires ongoing practice. Faith is enriched over time with steadfast practice and with each “performance,” always moving toward perfection... but never quite attaining it.

I speak from experience when I say playing a musical instrument well is not like riding a bike; you just don’t sit down and play well because you once did before. Being committed and faithful leads to constant growth and development. We continually advance because we continue to practice out of love with no expectation or reward. It’s living in the moment and in the journey and not for an arbitrary outcome that may never be attained because perfection is not in ours. Success is the progressive realization of a worthy goal; we are enriched along the way. Likewise. when we live our faith, we become our faith.

Addendum:
The last time we read Nicodemus in 2018 I wrote in the following in the Blog:

 I’ve been practicing my religion almost as long as I’ve practiced the piano. My piano is coming back slowly but not without effort. As for my faith, I’m still continually learning what it means to love God along the way. I’m still learning how to be open to myself so that the love of God can flow through me. I’m still learning to relate to the people around me with compassion, understanding, and kindness. And I hope that I never stop practicing Piano.

Well life has a way of intervening but today, six years later, the piano sits idle. However, I’m still learning and am grateful for the ability to reflect on the then and now in these pages. It’s not like riding a bike, is it? 

 And the river bank talks of the waters of March; It's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart;

And the river bank talks of the waters of March;It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart

Bidden or Not Bidden, God is Present

 

In Matthew, Mark, and Luke the temple scene occurs following Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem; however, in John’s Gospel (John 2:13-25)  the episode is                 placed immediately following Jesus’ first “sign” (miracle) in his ministry, the wedding at Cana. 

 

The temple skirmish functions in the Synoptic Gospels as the final public act whereby the authorities make the decision to arrest and kill Jesus. We know that the raising of Lazarus serves as the final act that leads to his arrest. Restoring someone to life after having been dead frightens and challenges the Chief priests and Roman authorities and requires that he be removed in order that they stop Jesus movement and silence his followers.   

 

The incarnation of God in the world in Jesus underscores our shared intimacy with Jesus’ death, resurrection and our salvation. So what does this have to do with Jesus’ visceral reaction to the traffickers in the temple? We know from our readings of John that his overall mission is to reinforce our shared divinity with God through Christ and His and our resurrections. The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the one and only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:14. So, the commercial desecration of the temple while an important event in itself is for John, a metaphorical reference to the real Temple God. 

 
For Christians, the idea of God becoming accessible through the resurrected Jesus is empowering.  God's presence is pervasive and public. A hallowed temple is unnecessary to see him, know him or feel his presence. God's promises and our hopes aren't located in a specific site. Jesus, who now dwells among his people (and beyond), makes God accessible and extends God's presence into all aspects of our lives. Everything therefore has potential to be "sacred;" every dimension of daily living may become a place for encountering God. 

 

A Church or temple is a mere touch point that enables communities to congregate and share His Word and God’s presence with each other. It’s a place to “commune” in God. When Peter suggested that tabernacles be erected to memorialize the event of the transfiguration, a voice from the heavens, interrupted him and said…just Listen to Him. 

Listen to Him

I wonder how many of us know when we have heard and responded to God's voice. While reference to "a calling" is commonly associated with clergy, we don’t often consider that we’re “called” to a career or a secular vocation or even volunteering. But, why not? I pose this question because the story of the Transfiguration (Mark) reminds us to listen to and look for God’s will for us in all we do. And just as the spectacular events of the transfiguration blinded Peter, James and John, we too can easily be distracted by the “noise.”

The scene as all things in Mark, moves very quickly as Peter in his excitement is eager to memorialize and do something to capture this transformative event… even before he even knows what he has seen or has transpired. We feel like saying to Peter "Please be quiet and just listen before you do anything!"  While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.” 

Maybe everything started to become clear and make sense to Peter when he listened and heard the word of God, but as we know too well, it didn't last very long.  How many times did Jesus remind Peter of his destiny? Peter may hear but is he really listening?   

Peter's transformation comes about when he repeatedly fails, falls, and is lifted up again. We too try our best and sometimes succeed and sometimes fail. We, too, have moments of insight and moments of denial. We too, fall down in fear and are raised up again and move ahead in confidence. This is a pattern that shapes all our lives on this spiritual journey. We all must face the wilderness that ultimately leads to transformation and growth. This story is as much about Peter and Jesus as it is about us as we are asked to listen and to hear his voice and know God’s will for us. 

 In these past weeks Mark has called our attention to Jesus’ humanity in which we share a common bond. In this gospel Jesus divinity is revealed in no uncertain terms: “This is my beloved…listen to Him.”. And as we share in Jesus’ humanity, we also share in his divinity. We must listen as we are called if we are to be transformed and become disciples of Jesus and the people of God. 

“There have been quite a few times when I have felt the winds of God’s grace in the sails of my small boat. 

Our Time in the Desert

 

Lent is an important part of our journey. Like Jesus, our spiritual journey begins in the desert and leads to the cross, to a tomb and “ends” with Easter, where our journey to God begins again. 

In the Gospel for the first Sunday in Lent, Mark1:12-15, we are told that “Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.”

I have been fortunate to have been able to travel fairly extensively in my life, for business and pleasure. Admittedly travelling was one of my passions, although  I now know that I must be more selective about travel and carefully assess my reasons and need before heading out. Over the years I have observed that there are two types of "journeymen". I would categorize these as being either tourists or travelers. The tourist travels throughout his journey in comfort, ensuring that his experiences are familiar and safe. He makes sure that he takes “his stuff” from back home with him. There are many vendors along the way who, for a price, would be willing to accommodate the tourist’s expectations and satisfy his needs, most of which are likely superficial and soon forgotten when he returns home... armed with photos, souvenirs, and pleasant memories.

On the other hand, a traveler is one whose goal is to regard the journey itself as part of a total experience in which the destination is just a part of a continuum. The traveller stops along the way to look, inquire and be open to new sights, sounds and sensations and perhaps delve into the unknown in the hope that something new will stimulate or be revealed. The difference between the traveler and the tourist is that the traveler becomes a part of and involved in the experience while the tourist rides on the outside and looks in.

A few years ago, we took a trip to the Galapagos Islands. It had long been a desired destination for me. Our primary goal was to be immersed in the experience which as an expedition required our total involvement as our circumstances would permit. There were no cell phones, internet or TV and although our accommodations were relatively sparse, they were more than satisfactory. While this hardly could be called a luxurious vacation, it was one of the most exhilarating trips I’ve ever taken as we were living in the experience, absorbed by the journey. As an expedition,  we were completely focused and unencumbered by distractions. The trip was one of personal transformation in which new perspectives on life and interests were born. These still linger today, not just as memories but as building blocks for what might lie ahead.

Jesus’ time in the desert somehow relates to our journey as travelers, not just tourists. He leaves his comfort zone to prepare himself for what was to come, resisting anything that would get in the way of his quest. So, as we prepare for Lent we are reminded that the purpose of our 40 days is to walk with Jesus on his journey and live in his experience and know the presence of God in our lives.There is an unconscious seed of desire in each of us, a fundamental motivation, a basic longing for the fulfillment of that purpose.

“Augustine tells us that ‘Thou has made us for thyself and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.’ Accordingly, we are not only born with God at our center, but we are born with a heart filled with desire for God. This yearning is our fundamental motivational force; it is the human spirit. It is the energy behind everything we seek and aspire to. And if indeed we are in intimate union with God in the center, then the soul’s desire is God’s desire. The soul’s love for God is God’s love for the soul.” (Gerald May, Dark Night of the Soul)

Lord, I know you can make me clean

If you were asked to describe characteristics of Jesus using only four words, which words would you select? When we read the passage from Mark (Mark 1:40-45) assigned for this Sunday we not only find the message of his Gospel as well as Mark's four words.

Compassion: Mark doesn't often reference Jesus' psychological state, but he does in this Gospel. When Jesus sees this man approach him in need, he is moved immediately to compassion, not judgment.He doesn't ask "What have you done to cause this to happen?" No, he's moved with compassion and a desire to act. This is Jesus, the Word made flesh, the embodiment of God  who is not judgmental, or demanding. He's compassionate.

Touch: There is an intimacy to touch that we frequently take for granted. We rarely think of the basic need human beings have to express their connectedness in a tactile way. Have you ever visited someone who is ill or infirmed? People in a vulnerable state feel separated from the world and often reveal  a need to return, be restored and be part of the community. There are few gestures as powerful as touch and the physical connection between humans. Jesus could easily have healed with a word, a gesture, or a command, but instead he reaches out to touch the leper. The very incarnation of God who takes on our form and endures every aspect of our humanity in all its manifestations, reminds us how much God seeks an intimate relationship with us. 

Willing: Jesus does more than simply respond to the man's plea; he affirms his deepest hopes that is to be seen as having value, dignity and worth, despite his leprosy. And he is, after all, a child of God. Nothing can ever change that. There is nothing we can do to lose God's love. It's not possible. This Gospel provides another example of his everlasting mercy and grace.

Lonely: Make no mistake. These acts of mercy, while perhaps free, take their toll on Jesus. There is, an emotional exchange going on in this reading. Although the leper is now healed, and restored to his community, Jesus can no longer safely travel  anymore. Love always costs something. Perhaps this is why Jesus asked the man to be silent; maybe it’s the "Messianic secret"  or  maybe it was because he knew this would make it difficult for him to freely continue with his ministry? Whatever the reason, and despite the risk, he continues oblivious of the personal risk. He trades places with this man  by sacrificing his freedom in order that the leper finds his. I know many parents, grandparents, lovers and friends can relate. 

So maybe one way to get at this text this week would be to think about the images we have of God. These images were often formed when we were in our formative years; they can be powerful, comforting or troubling and often exist at an unconscious level. So, what four words do we personally think best describe Jesus and God now and then?  

  Love takes what you have and gives it back more beautiful than before.

 (adapted from  Dear Working Preacher, David Lose Feb, 2012.)

This is who God wants me to be

 

I mean no disrespect but reading this story about Peter’s mother-in-law, I am reminded of a scene in the classic 1987 movie, Moonstruck in which Loretta’s (Cher) fiancé, Johnny travelled to Sicily to be with his dying mother. Johnny, played by Danny Aiello, telephones Loretta in tears as he and the wailing women keep vigil; “it’s just a matter of time,” he says. Then suddenly, out of the blue, Johnny’s mother is miraculously cured and jumps out of the bed and begins to prepare an elaborate dinner for a multitude of people including the future mourners. It’s a miracle Johnny proclaims; it’s a sign and being superstitious, he tells Loretta he cannot marry her. To me, like Simon’s mother-in-law, the real miracle is that the old woman begins to cook and serves everyone. 

The healing of Simon’s mother-in-law is a classic healing story (Mark1: 29-39).  But there is something a little disturbing about this story that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with healing. “Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.” Doesn’t that strike us as a little strange? Can you see why I was reminded of Moonstruck? Virtually everyone I know has had the flu every now and then. Now I’m not talking about Covid,  I’m referring to the typical flu whose season usually begins in the fall and exits in  April. The idea of popping out of bed and doing anything at all much less serving guests dinner, is inconceivable. If it were me I would have thanked them all for their support and, especially Jesus, then tactfully usher them out of my room, asking them to help themselves to tea and left over Christmas fruit cake…really hoping that they would leave my home so that I could rest some more. 

I realize that in that time and in a time not so long ago, the matriarch’s role as keeper of the house, was to serve her family and guests. If you are brought back from the edge of death, or from the brink of whatever, shouldn't there be something else for you to pursue? Perhaps, a new vocation or career or a new identity? And yet Peter's mother-in-law went back to the kitchen and whipped up dinner and served the guests. Was that what she was expected to do?  

But, what if the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law gave her a new lease on life and a new purpose, beyond her traditional role as mother and housekeeper? And what if in being brought back to who she was, she became a disciple, called to minister, to serve. Have you ever felt like God has brought you back from the brink ... to yourself? That you were called back from a place that was not fully you, to be the “real” you?

Jesus lifted her up. What if resurrection is being raised up to be who we always were and always meant to be? Not that of a successful rock star, athlete or business tycoon but as the incredible feeling of being the real us. Being raised up is not just some sort of spiritual future but is our present reality, in the here and now, to live as the real you…your mind, spirit, body, everything together, everything that you were always meant to be. The story of Simon’s mother-in-law reminds us that God does not call us to be something we are not, but is in the business of restoring us to who we really are. 

 God called Jesus to be who he was. That’s what the incarnation is all about. Jesus didn’t go around pretending to be something that he wasn't. Didn't he petition his father  to“ let this cup pass" Being human is to what God committed God’s self and therefore, being who we are is what God wants us to be. God brings us back from the brinks of our lives, from despair, from disease, from desperation, to live. Because then, maybe, we will actually know, feel, and get that which we are a part, that God needs us to be a part, of what’s at stake for God when God decided to become one of us.

 (Adapted from Karoline Lewis, Dear Working Preacher, February 1, 2015)

 

I know who you are, the Holy One of God

 

How in our place and time can we relate to what’s going on in this Gospel?    Talking about evil or demons either is a little out of our experience much less comfort zone. Mark’s account of the exorcism in the temple on the Sabbath in Capernaum (Mark 1:21-28 ), makes us a little uncomfortable and maybe our need to explain what cannot be explained is troubling.  

Yet there is something about this reading that compels us beyond the narrative. We get a sense of immediacy and a bias for action that characterizes Jesus’ behavior. He is in control and taking charge of business. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Did Jesus purposefully wait for the Sabbath to enter the synagogue to teach? If so, this act alone established his authority. And isn’t it ironic that the one who knows who Jesus is, is the man with the unclean spirit: .Christmas and the Feast of the Epiphany are behind us and the Lenten season is in two weeks, followed by an “early” Easter.  Ordinary time as the Lectionary calls it, is anything but “ordinary” and not just a place-holder for Lent and the Easter season. Jesus wasn’t just waiting and checking off the boxes as he went about his ministry. Jesus, we are told, "is on fire" and came as scripture reminds us “to set the world on fire.” He is taking on the evil of the world that of all places resides in the synagogue, a place of worship. He is shaking up a religion based on rules and proclaiming a faith based on love…he preaches on the Sabbath and heals a man possessed… all of which will “purposely”(?) incite the temple authorities who exploit religion and will eventually call for his arrest. No, ordinary time is a time of an awakening, a transformation into a new realm of living and faith.  

In many ways, this past year was one of self-imposed seclusion for me. 2023 was a time of waiting for what I hoped would be an all-clear signal sounding a return to some semblance of "normalcy.” In many ways it was a transformative period during which waiting yielded to acceptance. The calendar pages turned and the seasons passed, oblivious to the goings on in the world. Yet at ground level, just as in the time of Jesus, the days, weeks and months were turbulent and far from “ordinary.”  2023 was hardly a place-holder for 2024 and based on world current events, January is unimpressed by its new “address,” making us realize how little the calendar has to do with the passage of time in eternity. And what does time have to do with "eternity." So no time is ordinary and what we call as normal is merely part of our journey. In a few weeks we will be focusing on the end of Jesus' earthly ministry, culminating in his passion, crucifixion and resurrection. We would all agree that Jesus' time on earth was anything but ordinary but like 2023, it was certainly transformed the world forever.  

Now back to exorcisms and evil and how this relates to us today in the here and now. Our epiphany calls us to see something in a way we never saw before. It sets the stage for personal transformation, in which our eyes are opened to a new understanding. In Gerald May’s Dark Night of the Soul, he talks about "Mystery and Freedom." We become comfortable with things we can’t explain when we are comfortable in the knowledge that we don’t have to explain them and we allow the words to speak to us for what they mean and what they say. Sometimes transformation requires that we enter a dark period, outside our comfort zones before we are able to see things "in a new way." We must be rid of those demons that disrupt our journey. We must open our hearts and actively listen. Yes, demons and evil exist and we must wait to hear "Be silent, and come out of him!"

 

I will make you Fishers of Men

 

What force could be so strong  and so compelling that would make us drop everything and leave home? Sure, many of us have left our homes as part of a plan to pursue our dreams. Maybe we went away to college, leaving our family and  friends behind; maybe we moved to advance our careers or change our lives elsewhere, or maybe we were summoned or inspired to serve our country in the military. It's not uncommon in today’s world in which greater opportunity and career development are linked to mobility. It seems like only yesterday that this trend in upward mobility was introduced in the book, "The Greening of America."

We all make choices in our lives. But the idea that an unknown itinerant preacher and former carpenter, talking about the kingdom of God, could ask us to drop everything and follow him is inconceivable. That's essentially the scene that Mark1:14-20 describes. Unfortunately the details in Mark’s Gospel are few and there’s obviously a lot more we don't know than we do. But what we do know is that there was something compelling enough about Jesus and his message that prompted these four initially, Simon, Andrew, James and John, to follow him, to become his disciples, students of this teacher and servants of his mission.

What could be so powerful a message in what Jesus said that would compel us to change our lives so drastically? Could this happen in our time?  Mark writes “And immediately they left their nets and followed him.” Mark's use of the word immediately suggests that something happened to them, in them. They experienced an epiphany that suddenly prompted them to follow Jesus. I wonder if profound changes in our faith can only happen suddenly? Are they planned or studied or God's working in us has nothing to do with our plans? It's almost as if we are on automatic pilot and all we have to do is to let go of the controls and say yes.

Mark’s sense of urgency, i.e., "immediately,"  leaves bo room for “wait a few minutes. Let me pack my bag and make a few arrangements.” No -- epiphanies just happen. No preparation. No packing list. No recommendations of what to take, what to do. 

Karoline Lewis writes, “Jesus just happens. We have no time to think. Epiphanies are untamable, unpredictable. There is nothing comfortable about epiphanies. They rock your world. “Epiphanies, especially of the divine nature, demand an immediate response. There’s no invitation for contemplation or reflection but instantaneous commitment and risk. Or, to put it another way, no real choice... If the heavens are ripped apart, well then, get ready for a wild ride. This can be simultaneously freeing and terrifying. Free to respond in the moment. Terrified of what beyond the moment will unfold. (Working Preacher, January 18, 2015). 

So, back to the question, could this happen in our time? Can we remember those  times when our behavior surprised us and made us ask, where did that come from? Maybe this is what Mark wants us to think about.

 

What are you looking for?

 

When I entered basic training, I was warned never to volunteer for anything or respond to a request for volunteers. It was common for a drill sergeant to “ask” unwitting recruits for “volunteers” for duties that appeared to be easier on the surface than they were. Invariably, these jobs never turned out to be easy. In time we learned to avoid eye contact with the "inviting" sergeant and stand way in the back of the formation to hide and avoid being “volunteered.” John's (John 1:35-42) account of how Peter, Andrew, James and John immediately responded to Jesus invitation reminded me of my time in basic training. I’m always amazed as to how quickly the disciples dropped everything and just followed Jesus. I wonder how I would respond to a request from a passing stranger who asks me to stop what I was doing, drop everything and follow him. At the very least I think I would have pretended not to hear him and let him bother someone else. If cornered and pressed I might ask for some time to think about it. After all, how could I possibly stop what I’m doing right now? It's too important. Maybe later.

Could we drop everything, leave our families and communities, and follow someone we didn’t even know? Both Matthew and Mark emphasize the word “immediately" to describe the new "recruits’" snap decision. Snap decisions are often fraught with risks and don't always turn out as we had hoped. Yet, sometimes they turn out better than if we had planned for them. Consider those times in my life when our snap decisions turned out really well. Don’t we sometimes wonder what prompted those decisions?

And so what does John's Gospel mean to us today? Does it mean leaving behind the promise of a steady income in a successful family business? Or, maybe it means letting go of things that hold us bound to our comfort zones, and perhaps symbolic of the fisherman’s nets in our Gospel.  Responding to the prompt and letting go can come in a variety of ways and will vary from one person to another. While Jesus does not ask everyone to leave everything behind, no one can be a disciple and follow His call to repent without leaving something behind, or without letting go of the nets that keep us "tied up." 

Jesus is calling us to a new way of life and asking us to turn the focus of our lives to being God-centered. At its basic level, discipleship means saying “yes” to Jesus and following him wherever he leads. There are times we try to run away and go back to where we were before but like the young recruit trying to be invisible, we can’t hide in the back of the formation out of sight. Jesus, like my drill instructor is relentless, and as often as we try to hide, he will find us.

Getting back to “snap decisions” and following that inspiration, John Powell writes "There have been quite a few times when I have felt the winds of God’s grace in the sails of my small boat. Sometimes these graces have moved me in pleasant and sunlit directions. At other times the requested acts of love were born in the darkness of struggle and suffering. There have been spring times and there have been long cold winters of struggle for survival. God has come to me at times with the purest kindness, at times with the most affirming encouragement, and at other times with bold frightening challenges. I think that all of us have to watch and pray, to be ready to say 'yes' when God’s language is concrete and his request is specific-'yes' in the sunlit spring times and 'yes’ in the darkness of winter nights." (John Powell, S.J., The Christian Vision, The Truth That Sets Us Free, p147)

 

Are you waiting or are you looking

 

The Mystery of Christmas embraces both the feasts of the Nativity and the Epiphany. In the Nativity we commemorate God’s humble entrance into human life, incarnated in Jesus. In the Epiphany we celebrate Jesus as God’s gift to the world and embodies the expression for our longing for intimacy with God. (Matthew 2:1-12)

Like the Magi, we need only the "light" of strong, unwavering faith to see Him, to find Him, to serve Him in the people around us and in the circumstances of our everyday living. Like the Magi, we need only to trust in and know God's love for us…only then we will recognize His presence and His power in sunrise and sunset, in storm and calm, in the faces of children and wisdom of the elderly, in moments of elation and heart-break. We will see His radiance and warmth behind every cloud of sorrow or failure that darkens our days.

The Magi went to extraordinary lengths to look for the Christ Child. They serve to remind us that there are those who wait for the coming of the Jesus with those who make the effort to find Him. Like the magi, our search goes on - but so does Epiphany…Are we actively looking or merely waiting… and what gifts do we bring?