It's Good to be King

Matthew describes Herod as a powerful king of his time who reigned strictly for his personal benefit Matthew 2:1-12. His power and influence spanned nearly a half century during which time he continued to build the great temple which pleased the Jews and the Romans, who were content that all was calm during his reign.

In a real sense Herod and Israel conspired together as they both pursued their common interests in which religious and political motives intermingled.   Each “scratched each other's back,” and bowed before legislative and religious laws. Despite more than “passing interest” in reports of a Messiah's birth, the chief priests and scribes and Herod turned a blind eye to what had happened. Both were unwilling to relinquish their world and accept the possibility that the Messiah has been born. It was more convenient if this was not true and they could keep their good thing going for a while longer.  

While the Magi are not insiders, they were a force to be reckoned with, and not readily dismissed. Their arrival was more than a nuisance; it was an “international event”… the status quo was not prepared (willing) to accept the glory of God's heavenly kingdom whose power was love as opposed to Herod’s love of power....not now; maybe later; they had a good thing going and didn’t need another king much less a Messiah to spoil it.  

Do we sometimes yearn for God’s Kingdom, while finding it hard to leave our comfort zone? After all, Herod’s kingdom was comfortable for the insiders

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God

The first lines in John's Gospel (John 1:1-18) combine two beautiful poetic images that celebrate the birth of Christ on spiritual levels that go beyond the bucolic events in Bethlehem. The Word of God is revealed to us and inspired by scripture and prayer as John's use of metaphor speaks to us in the language of the soul and not our intellect. When we surrender to his will, a call, a prompting, we too allow the Spirit to penetrate the depth of our being and join in his birth.  The Word becomes our flesh as we celebrate the birth of love in us and through us and we too become bearers of the light, his light to be lived and shared.

 

Let it be done unto me according to your word. Let it be to me according to your word concerning the Word, Let the Word that was in the beginning with God become flesh from my flesh. Let the Word, I pray, be to me, not as a word spoken only to pass away, but conceived and clothed in flesh, not in the air, that he may remain with us. Let him be, not only to be heard with the ears, but to be seen with the eyes, touched with the hands and borne on the shoulders. Let the Word be to me, not as a word written and silent, but the incarnate and living. That is not traced with dead signs upon dead parchment but livingly impressed in human form upon my caste womb; not by the tracing of a pen of lifeless reed, but by the operation of the Holy Spirit. Let it thus be to me, as was never done to anyone before me, nor after me shall be done

Annunciation Dialogue, Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153)

Don't ask...It's a Mystery

We celebrate those events in the life of Christ in the Gospel as stories that are meant to be lived as we are inspired to live them. I’ve come to the realization that it’s not a mystery when I really understand a concept and feel that I can explain it. Yet, there is an undeniable urge to let our egos run rampant and do our best to try to explain that which defies explanation

Somehow, the mistrust of all that has been handed down to us has led to the failure of the imagination, evidenced by language that is thoroughly comfortable and unchallenging. How many times do we quickly turn the page because something we read in scripture challenges our ability to fully comprehend its meaning… instead of just letting it rest long enough in our hearts for it to speak to us without words?

So here we are in the fourth week in Advent as we focus on the Annunciation according to Matthew (Matthew 1:18-24), a mystery of epic proportions that defies rational explanation. It stuns us to hear some attempt to reduce the virgin birth to a mere story of an unwed pregnant teenager. Have we come to a time when anything that did not stand up to reason or that we couldn’t explain, should be characterized as primitive and infantile? Why do we think that an Almighty Spiritual Being would be confined to man’s limited intellect and his feeble language to communicate His message? Do we not see how metaphor and poetry reveal meaning, not explanation on a deep personal level, unique to each of us who are willing to open our hearts and just listen?

I remember visiting the Church of my youth at Christmas and found myself being drawn to the Crèche. I stared at the statue of the Baby Jesus and was moved by the scene. Of course I knew that this charming bucolic setting was not really the way it was, yet the Divine Incarnation could not be contained as it spoke the beautiful reason for the Blessed season.

When we allow God’s love to break though into our consciousness and contemplate the Mysteries of the Annunciation and Virgin birth, do we run from it? Do we ask it to explain what it cannot? Or are we “virgin” enough to surrender to our deepest self and allow it to fill our being?

For many of us mystery became an adversary; unknowing became a weakness. The contemplative spiritual life is an ongoing reversal of this adjustment. It is a slow and sometimes painful process of becoming ‘little children’ again in which we first make friends with mystery and finally fall in love again with it. And in that love we find an ever increasing freedom to be who we really are in an identity that is continually emerging and never defined. We are freed to join the dance of life in fullness without having a clue about what the steps are…Confusion happens when mystery is an enemy and we feel we must solve it to master our destinies. And ignorance is not knowing that we do not know. In the liberation of the night, we are freed from having to figure things out and we find delight in knowing that we do not know. (Mystery & Freedom, May, Dark Night p.133)

 

Are You the One? Who Do You Say That I AM?

This week’s account of John in Matthew 11:2-11 Matthew 11: 2-11 is quite a contrast to last week’s Gospel. What happened to the outspoken firebrand, the radical Messianic prophet? He attracted large crowds as he fearlessly rebuked religious leaders with his preaching. While his arrogant, self-assured confidence made us a little uncomfortable, we were eager to hear what he had to say about the Advent of the One. But this week, we see a different John, pacing his small prison cell, wondering if his ministry was all in vain and having his doubts about whether Jesus truly was the long awaited Messiah. By all accounts, Jesus was not measuring up to his expectations. Desperate for some validation, he manages to send a messenger to put the question directly to Jesus: “Are you the one?”

Rather than answer John’s question directly, Jesus cites all that he has done and dispatches the messenger: 

Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.

Matthew gives us reason to suggest that John was aware of Jesus ministry and his works. But was he looking for something more spectacular? Were Jesus’ works a little too mundane for a Messiah? What was it that he wanted to hear from Jesus? Maybe John’s sights were set on a different kind of Messiah, one based on his concept of what a Messiah is, because he hadn’t prepared himself to see God at work His presence in the quiet things. 

As a child I sang in a boys’ choir every Sunday and on Holy Days. I remember singing the beautiful Magnificat, the Canticle of Mary, in May and at Christmas time. We sang the hymn in Latin. However, I was confused by Sister Henrietta’s translation: the haunting melody and cadence and its sweet sounding words, albeit meaningless to us, seemed to betray the theme of a humble virgin’s song of praise. It sounded more like a revolutionary battle cry:

He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, *
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, *
and the rich he has sent away empty.

Was this the powerful Messiah John was expecting? Perhaps Jesus’ answer to John says it best: What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? And yet, John was right, the Messiah was all about dethroning the mighty but Jesus was all about exalting the lowly, or filling the hungry. Jesus was interested in deeds and not words, Go and tell John what you hear and see. Jesus was all about repentance, a metanoia…turning the mind around. His revolution was about social change…the fruits worthy of repentance. 

And so I wonder, are we any different from John? What limits have we placed on our imagination, on our expectations? Sure the beautiful Church services, with its inspirational sermons, hymns and fellowship at Christmas all serve to create a sense of God, but do we continue to carry that sense of God with us when we leave the Church and tend to our day-to-day activities in the other 167 hours of the week? Have we prepared ourselves to look for God in the ordinary people, places and things of our lives, in the ordinary nickels and dimes of our lives? 

We do not come to know God by contemplating Him in secure spiritual isolation or by discussing the scripture every Wednesday night. No, God comes to us when we provide shelter for the homeless or offer a cup of water to the thirsty, in either a Waterford glass or Dixie cup. It's a Quiet Thing

 

He Will Baptize You With The Holy Spirit

In reading Matthew 3:1-12, I wonder if God might not have selected a better advance man for Jesus’ ministries than John the Baptist. But then, Jesus may not have had a choice; let’s face it, John was his first cousin and who knows what promises Mary made to Elizabeth when either John or Jesus had no say in the matter. Maybe the two sisters were keeping it all in the family? In any case, John was a little rough around the edges and could have used a little advice on dressing for success, or winning friends and influencing people before he began his ministry. Let me ask you; would you have hired him to be your pitch man? He rolls into town from the wilderness all decked out in camel hair and leather while munching on grasshoppers and honey. He was hardly a fashion plate or someone with whom you wanted to share a meal. He was different! 

So what was it that attracted the crowd and kept them coming, not to mention line up to be baptized? While John was inspired, his demeanor and deportment may well have been studied. He dressed like the prophet Elijah, who also ate locusts and honey, the sustenance that God provided to the Hebrews as they wandered the wilderness. So when he preached the coming of the Messiah, the people may have channeled the former prophet and were eager to follow, believe and anticipate the advent of the Lord. Not everyone, however. Two groups of the “elite” Jewish hierarchy, the Pharisees and Sadducees were uncharacteristically united in their opposition to John’s prophesy. After all, weren’t they the chosen people, the direct descendants of Abraham? 

Who is this wild man who comes to baptize and calls for us “to bear fruit for repentance,” the signs of a changed life? John preached the love of enemies and rejected any claim to an elite status as “the chosen” by birth. This clash between heredity, privilege and equality for all in the kingdom caused John to lash out with his customary lack of diplomacy and called the Pharisees and Sadducees “children of snakes.” John invites us to participate in God’s coming kingdom wherever we are and whatever we may be doing. All we need is enough faith in God to help us work through the ordinary and mundane elements of our lives. 

And so in promising the coming of the Messiah John message is powerful but he makes certain to clearly distinguishes his subordinate role as the “one who comes before:”
 
I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.

Stay Awake

"Be not afraid... Fear not."  People have derived comfort from these words for over 2,000 years, yet we are still afraid.  What's more, we are too frightened to admit our fears, particularly the biggest fear of all - death.  The fear of death overshadows our lives.  We have - or likely have - lived longer than our parents and grandparents.  We are better fed; we lose few babies, and modern medicine protects us from contagion and disease that will lengthen our lives... and yet, we are still afraid.   

Shortly after 9/11 the words Fear Not seemed a little out of place.  Surely we had every reason to be afraid.  I am reminded of Father Mychal Judge, a Franciscan priest, who served as Chaplain to the New York Fire Dept., and was the first registered victim at Ground Zero, the sight of the former Twin Towers.  The details of his death are unclear:  some say he was fatally wounded as he administered last rites to a dying firefighter; others recall his being killed while in silent prayer.  Whatever happened, his lifeless body was discovered in the lobby and carried to a nearby church shortly before Tower I collapsed. 

What does this have to do with our gospel (Matthew 24:37-44)?  Who knew how that fateful Tuesday that began with skies so blue and air so clear, would end as it did?  In many ways, Father Mychal lived this gospel.  In many ways this was a man who had arrived at Ground Zero long before 9/11.  He had proved himself ready to lay down his life many times during his career.  For him 9/11 could have occurred on any day or at any time... he was prepared. 

If the thought of finding God amidst such harrowing circumstances seems strange, perhaps it is because we are out of practice looking for Him.  However, we can be certain that Christ's death and resurrection hold the deepest answer to all our fears.  Christ was executed like a common criminal and was totally forsaken by his friends.  By His overcoming death and our sharing in his resurrection, He took away all our reasons to fear forever.  Of course it does no good to recognize this on a merely intellectual level.  Knowing that Christ loves us may not save us from fear, nor will it save us from death.  And so it comes down to this:  The only way to truly overcome our fear of death is to "be prepared" and to live our life in such a way that its meaning cannot be taken away by death.  As with Father Mike, it means fighting the impulse to live for ourselves instead of others.  It means being prepared to die again and again to ourselves, and to every one of our self-serving opinions and agendas.                           

Adapted from Johann Chrisoph Arnold, Be Not Afraid, Advent Readings, 2001) "

 

Christ The King

Although his time on earth was short, Jesus created quite a stir during his even briefer ministry (Luke 23:35-43). As a revolutionary he upset Jewish law, tradition and the Roman hierarchy. He consorted with the most unlikely disenfranchised members of society and violated conventional decorum. He upset the “purity code” by proclaiming it wasn’t what went into your mouth that mattered but what came out. He wasn’t a king, a priest, or a prophet. He performed many miracles that included healing the sick and bringing the dead back to life. Yet he was unable to save himself; he was executed with 2 petty criminals. Not very kingly is it? And to compound the indignity, the soldiers kneel at his feet, not to worship, but to gamble for his clothes, while deriding his reign as “king of the Jews.” It amused them because they were Romans and they knew what a real king looked like, and this definitely was not it. A real king had power and arrogance and this Jesus had none of that. So they mocked him. 

 

Yet, for some reason, one of the two thieves also being executed reprimands the other who derides Jesus’ weakness and speaks with compassion and takes pity on another condemned man. Then he does an astounding thing and asks “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Now, where did that come from?  How can he hang there on the cross and look over at a man dying beside him, and see in him as a savior, a messiah, a king with a kingdom? Somehow, the second thief got it; he saw what Jesus was doing; he saw that Jesus refused to swat his oppressors and he died so that they could be forgiven, died so that by his suffering their suffering would be healed. 

We celebrate Christ the King, not because of his regal bearing, but because of his humility; not because of his power, but because of his compassion; not because of his triumph, but because of his travail; not because he fixes our lives, but because he shows us the way to live. 

And what about this kingdom of God? Where is it? Richard Rohr writes that “if we go to the depths of anything, we will begin to knock upon something substantial, ‘real’ and with a timeless quality to it. We will move from the starter kit of ‘belief’ to an actual inner knowing. This is most especially true if we have ever loved deeply; accompanied someone through the mystery of dying, or stood in genuine life changing awe before mystery time or beauty. This ‘something real’ is what all the worlds’ religions were pointing to when they spoke of heaven or the kingdom of God. They were not wrong at all; their only mistake was that they pushed it off into the next world. If God’s Kingdom is later, it is because it is first of all now…In other words, heaven/ union/ love now emerge from within us much more than from a mere belief system and  as Jesus promises the Samaritan woman, “the spring within her will well up into eternal life. (John 4:14)”

 

His Love is Here to Stay

The more I read the papers, the less I comprehend.
The world and all its capers and how it all will end.
Nothing seems to be lasting, but that isn’t our affair.
We’ve got something permanent,
I mean in the way we care.

…And so did Ira Gershwin pen this beautiful preface to his brother, George’s melody. Somehow these words seem to relate to our reading in Luke 21:5-19. Ira Gershwin wrote the lyrics to Love is Here to Stay as a loving tribute to his brother who had just died at 39. The song speaks of love’s permanence in an ever changing world. Ira would have no way of knowing how prophetic his words written in 1938 would be for us in 2016, as we witness the passing of what we thought would be indestructible pillars of our culture and society gradually erode like the song’s “passing fancies.”

A few years ago I had the chance to visit the high school from which I graduated. I had attended this newer more “modern” building for the last 6 months of high school, since my school was no longer habitable and had to be torn down. At the time of my visit I couldn’t resist driving by my childhood home and pause for a while and allow the memories to take me back. Only the front door remained the same. While I did not expect to recognize anyone I would have known, I was able to re-create people and places by super imposing my memory on the scene.

Not unlike those who resisted Jesus’ prediction that the temple would one day be destroyed, I too thought these icons of my youth would last forever. Yes, there is an ache that comes from seeing so much of what we thought would always be, be no longer. But I suppose the older we get the more we know that nothing temporal by its very definition is eternal.

Jesus prophetically speaks of unsettling things that we like to think are just spiritual metaphors. But the current devastation from the earthquakes in Italy, the ongoing war in Iraq and genocide in Syria are terrible reminders that the things we hold so close are just passing fancies and in time will go. Even if these words don't resonate in us today, the time will come when they just might. Blessedly then, as now, Jesus’ promise remains, “I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.”

God is watching out for us and His love is here to stay.

Resurrection and Everlasting Life

I don’t think the Sadducees really cared about Jesus’ opinion on resurrection (Luke 20:27-38). Not unlike news reporters who ask leading questions to which they already know the answer, the Sadducees tried to embarrass Jesus by having him say something that “contradicts” the law. Yet, motive aside, was their question really unreasonable?  The Sadducees saw the whole person as mortal and did not believe in "resurrection.” They attempted to use the Jewish law on women, marriage and procreation to trap him. Of course in all cultures marriage and procreation are crucial to maintaining stability and preserving survival and Jesus is really not rejecting or taking a stand on the importance of marriage. However, he is telling the Sadducees that marriage is irrelevant and procreation is unnecessary in life eternal.

 David Steindl-Rast writes that “Jesus’ resurrection has nothing to do with coming back to life (as with Lazarus in John’s Gospel). The Nicene and Apostle Creeds do not refer to ‘coming back’ to this life. No, resurrection is a sacred movement of completion. It’s a new beginning into a new dimension of existence in which the power of love breaks the bonds of death and humanity. The followers of Jesus experienced the resurrection of Jesus Christ as a life-changing conviction.”

The Sadducees used the laws of Moses to trap Jesus on resurrection. However, Moses was dealing in a time and place during which a man was responsible for the preservation of his lineage and his family by marrying his deceased brother's wife (Deuteronomy 25:5-10). Jesus stance on earthly convention had nothing to do with the earthly laws of Moses which do not apply in heaven. We are confined to understanding that which we are capable based on our human intellect. God s not bound to our human understanding or to our dimension. God is about something more.

“For many of us mystery became an adversary; unknowing became a weakness. The contemplative spiritual life is an ongoing reversal of this adjustment. It is a slow and sometimes painful process of becoming ‘little children’ again in which we first make friends with mystery and finally fall in love again with it again.”  (Gerald May, Dark Night of the Soul).

 

 

You've Got to be Carefully Taught

 

 

It is impossible for us not to have grown up without “preconceived notions” of people, places and things. From the time we are born we are surrounded by visual and auditory signals that influence the way we view our world. In time these “prejudices” are tempered by our intellect personal convictions and we either accept or reject those judgments and opinions. And so it is in the story of Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1-10). In this Gospel Luke really exaggerates the stereotype of the despised man in the community to make a point: Zaccheaus (let’s call him “Z”), was rich; a chief tax collector, and he was short (?). In the shame-based culture of his time, being a tax collector was tantamount to being a traitor. The tax collector was expected to “extort” money from his people and turn it over, minus his commission, to the Roman oppressors. As Luke referenced his height, my guess is that Z was probably shorter than most people of his time. In any case, we can understand why Luke’s audience would to rush to judgment.

In the beautiful Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, South Pacific, the song “You’ve Got to be Carefully Taught,” characterizes how “inherited” racial prejudice and intolerance can destroy relationships. On the other hand, they can be overcome by understanding and love. In that song Lieutenant Cable describes how his Philadelphia blue-blood upbringing has caused him to retreat from his love for the Tonkinese girl, while Nellie, the young nurse from Little Rock, cannot accept the fact that the man she loves had fathered inter-racial children.

Z knew who he was and knew what he had done. He saw shame in the eyes of his community and was quite happy to be concealed. There are those among us who are naturally drawn to the promise of healing and wholeness but instead opt to “hide up a tree” because they are among the disenfranchised and not a part of the in-crowd. Like Z, it’s safer for them to look from a distance than risk shame or embarrassment.

In keeping with Luke’s familiar surprise endings and his unlikely heroes, Jesus called Z out and “invited himself” to his home. In turn, Z immediately responds and repents, at which point the story reverts to the crowd that demonizes a person it doesn't like based upon its pre-conceived notions and prejudice.

Nancy Rockwell writes “what Jesus treasures in the despised is their ability to hang on, to survive with part of their own humanity intact, despite the way they have been treated by the world. This part of themselves becomes their shining light, becomes the window of their soul and a lighted path for all out souls…They are here to show us how to keep going in deep darkness, how to survive the bullies, how to have hope in mean times…No wonder, then, that we celebrate the saints in the dark of the year, a time they understand well, a darkness in which they shine.” (The Bite in the Apple).

There but for the Grace of God go I

 

 

In reading this parable Luke 18:9-14 it’s only natural for us to take the side of the tax collector. After all these months of discussing Luke, we’re pretty sure we have a  good handle on what he’s trying to tell us.  We know that Luke was writing to an elite audience whose rigorous adherence to the law revealed its position in society. Besides, anytime we try to draw a line between who's "in" and who's "out" as this parable asserts, it’s reasonable to assume that God is on the side of the poor wretched tax collector. But, stopping there is too easy and is Luke’s red herring. Once we fall prey to the temptation that divides humanity into groups, we have aligned ourselves squarely with the Pharisee.  

This parable is not about self-righteousness and humility any more than it’s about a pious Pharisee and desperate tax collector. Rather it’s about God…who alone can judge and “justify.” Judgment is based on law and is at the mercy of human interpretation and bias. David Steindl-Rast writes  in Deeper Than Words that Justice is rooted in love not law…and is not a matter of imposing laws, as one imposes with a cookie cutter, patterns on flattened dough; it’s more like the yeast in the dough, it makes things work from within …Judging does not mean punishing but setting things right. Genuine justice ‘justifies’ in the way the printer justifies the lines on a page by making the margins straight. In nature whatever we look at closely shows itself ‘justified’---in harmony with divine order…nature is the great example of love in this sense.

 

This story is at the very heart of the good news.  God sees all about us, and knows all about us—good and bad--and accepts us as we are.   

 

 

Out of the Depths I Cry Out to You Lord

Throughout our readings of Luke we encounter several widows that Jesus selects as the focus of his parables. These women are always depicted as especially vulnerable since without a family, or means of support or any prospect of marriage, they were marginalized by society and with little hope for survival. Yet, despite their vulnerability, Jesus portrays these women as people of remarkable determination, strength and faith. I realize widows provided unique opportunities for Jesus to illustrate his point with his audience; however, I wonder as I reflect, that if over the centuries, in our male dominated world and our social and religious institutions, we didn’t overlook a point that Jesus was making as to the equality of women and by extension their inclusivity? In every case these Biblical characters demonstrate more than enough resolve and strength to make the case for our re-examining these stories from the perspective of gender equality that can challenge our institutional hierarchies and the role of women as leaders. Perhaps, I am out of my element here and ill-equipped to adequately deal with the social issues regarding gender inequality and return to the real point of our lesson, but I introduce it here as food for thought and the subject of another conversation. Yet, I still can’t help but wonder, what is the real point?

Ok, back to our “lesson.” The widow in our current parable (Luke 18:1-8) is persistent, active, and forceful enough to get the justice she demands even from an utterly unjust judge, who finally is, by implication, included among the “chosen ones of God.” While the parable is framed by references to prayer and faith, the emphasis is on justice and how it figures into the confrontation between the vulnerable justice-seeker and the unjust power-broker. The powerful and just God takes the place of the unjust judge in the end, granting justice to his vulnerable, chosen ones who cry out to him day and night.

We are told that there is only one other use of this term chosen one in Luke. And this reference is reserved for Jesus who while on the cross, is mocked by the religious leaders as “God’s chosen one.” These so-called leaders, like the unjust judge in the parable, inadvertently get it right in spite of themselves. Jesus, the chosen one cries out from the cross as he petitions the Father and commends his spirit to him and breathes his last. (Meda Stampler Working Preacher.org, 10/13)

Finally the parable leaves us with a question that resonates beyond the cross and tomb and the resurrection: “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” We find part of the answer in past Gospels in which a number of people are commended for their faith: the centurion who believes Jesus will heal his slave, even from a distance; the sinful woman who anoints Jesus’ feet and loves much; friends of the paralytic who are willing to dig through a roof; the bleeding, unclean woman who dares to touch Jesus’ cloak in the crowd and is healed; the Samaritan leper, whose gratitude takes him back to Jesus where he falls at his feet in thanksgiving, and the blind beggar later in this chapter who sees Jesus for who he is and cries out to him.

So the answer to the rhetorical question appears to be that the we will find faith, but it may be in uncharacteristically unexpected places with unlikely vulnerable people, as it has been in our readings and among the outsiders; the despised; the unclean; the ones certain of their sinfulness and not among the religious professionals or those certain of their own righteousness. Perhaps the lesson suggests that the willingness to persist in prayer despite all odds, as the widow did, is the faith we seek.

Looking and Seeing and Believing

Ten is a number of completeness. Ten lepers approached Jesus. They kept their distance. That was the rule for lepers. They were unclean, and therefore considered separated from God and society. In our gospel (Luke 17:11-19), the lepers were all cleansed by Jesus. However, only one of the lepers returns and in thanksgiving, prostrates himself at Jesus' feet.

Andre Prior writes that true completeness or wholeness comes from recognizing God's presence in Jesus. The Samaritan returned and praised God, but also recognized God’s working through Jesus, as the reason for Jesus declaring the man’s “wholeness.” 

In a very real sense, true worship comes about when we recognize the active presence of God in our midst. In keeping with Jesus’ “radical” penchant for keeping us off balance and not following expected patterns, this story is deliberately subversive. Lepers were not very respectable, and Samaritans were despised by many if not all Jews of the day. Lepers were unclean, feared and anyone having anything to do with them would be considered as cut off from God in the eyes in Jewish law. 

In some ways we can see a continuum in Luke’s theme as this story may be is reminiscent of past gospels and our recent discussions of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son (Luke 15). In a sense, the Samaritan leper is akin to the lost sheep and is incomplete and lost without the other ten. And in some way the Samaritan leper in Jesus’ time may be considered a metaphor for the Muslim of our time. How much does our despising or fearing others prevent us from being made whole, or even being saved? 

In this light, this story serves as an invitation to believers -- then and now -- to recognize that what we see makes all the difference. Do we see danger or opportunity in the face of adversity? In the face of the stranger, do we see a potential enemy or friend? And it goes further. When we look to God, do we see stern judge or loving parent? When we look to ourselves, do we see failure or beloved child? When we look to the future, do we see fearful uncertainty or an open horizon? There is, of course, no right answer to any of these questions. How we answer depends upon what we see. Yet how we answer dramatically shapes both our outlook and our behavior.

Worship is not simply about hearing God's story or even praising God in response; rather, hearing and discussing the story helps us see God at work in our lives and the world. This is the key to the Christian life as we are called simply to see...and to help others do the same.

At the outset of this story, ten men are live "between regions" in a "no-man's" land of being socially, religiously, and physically unclean. By the end of the story, all ten are made well. But one has seen Jesus, recognized his blessing and rejoiced in it, and changed his course of action and behavior. And because he sees what has happened, the leper is not just healed, but is made whole, restored, drawn back into relationship with God and humanity. In all these ways he has been, if we must choose a single word, saved.

What is true stewardship, worship, and Christian living? It is the tenth leper turning back. For now as then, seeing makes all the difference.

Adapted from Andrew Prior and David Lose, The Text This Week, Luke 17:11-19, 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Do It!

 

While it’s easy to dismiss the disciples’ request (Luke 17: 5-10) for more faith as shallow or self-serving, don’t we sometimes feel as the disciples did? At first glance, it seems like the Jesus’ followers are not getting the message. They think faith is something they can measure and in typically human fashion, want more of it. But can you blame them? Just earlier in Luke Jesus had not only warned them about guarding against making others stumble, and said that they must forgive those who wrong them … again and again and again. Who in the world can live up to Jesus’ expectations we ask. Is it any wonder that they think they need more faith?

And what about us. Don’t we sometimes feel overwhelmed by what it is we think it means to be a “good Christian” Don’t we indulge in self-doubt, not quite sure if we really have what it takes to follow Jesus. It’s only human to think that being a disciple is beyond us and out of reach. Yes, it’s only human. But isn’t that the whole point? We are only human and God loves us for our humanity, reminding us that faith rarely is heroic. Faith, as Jesus describes it, is just living our lives in the Spirit of love as best we can and tending to our roles and responsibilities, not because of any promised reward but simply because they just need doing.

When we feel daunted by discipleship, we need to be reminded that living our lives in faith can be pretty ordinary. It’s what Theresa of Avilla calls the “pots and pans of life.”  I think that’s what Jesus means when he says that faith is like a mustard seed; it grows and develops the power to uproot and move a mulberry tree – and that it’s not about quantity when all God wants is for us to just be. Even the simplest things done in faith can have a huge impact.

Yet, there are a many people who may feel absolutely nothing like the disciples did. It’s not that they’re overwhelmed by the tasks of Christian discipleship, it’s more that they don’t even think about it. For them, going to church and perhaps generally being a good person is pretty much all there is to being a Christian. It would never occur to them that being a good friend, or working at a job to keep food on the table or any of the other ordinary stuff of life we do every day has anything to do with the Christian faith. It just doesn’t occur to them.

 Faith, says David Lose in Working Preacher, isn’t just an idea, it’s like a muscle that must be exercised in order for it to grow and develop. Faith is heading out the door each day looking for opportunities to be God’s partner and co-worker in the world. Faith is imagining that the various challenges we face along the way, whether solving a problem at work or forgiving someone who has wronged us are actually opportunities that invite us to grow as disciples and witness to God’s presence and goodness in the world. 

And so Jesus tells his us that we have all the God-given opportunities to do whatever it is that needs to be done. It’s all the ordinary stuff we do all the time and, taken together and blessed by God, it’s pretty extraordinary!

This is everyday faith, the ordinary, extraordinary faith that we’re invited to practice day in and day out. It’s not heroic, but it is essential. And so maybe, after hearing all these things about faith, all we really need is to reminded, à la Nike, to Just Do It!

Do You Not See Me or Don't You Care?

 

The story of the rich man and Lazarus in Luke 16:19-31 is in keeping with many of our recent discussions and typical of Luke’s Gospels in which we encounter a number of assumptions and reversals. The first reversal is that the beggar is given a name and the rich man is not.

When we encounter the poor or homeless we are moved to pity and a desire to help. Yet, too often this desire or inclination stops with the intention. It’s not that we don’t care; we really do, but something happens to cause us to “look the other way,” just long enough for us to put the “urge” out of our minds and for us to forget it. Let’s face it, getting physically involved with those who are “different” from us can make us a little uncomfortable. Perhaps the operative word here is “different.”

So it is with the rich man in this parable. Both characters die and Lazarus is with Abraham in paradise and the rich man is in hell. While the story does not have a judgment scene, we assume that the rich man is not condemned because of his wealth but because he was “indifferent” to the plight of Lazarus. He did nothing to relieve his suffering in this life. Lazarus was not in the rich man’s line of sight because he was different …and the rich man was indifferent.

Yet doesn’t the rich man reveal a certain compassion and “piety” when he begs Abraham to send Lazarus to “warn” his brothers? Doesn’t this “better late than never piety” count for anything? No, it really doesn’t…the road to hell is paved with the best intentions. Jesus is telling us that piety and talk are cheap grace; it’s what we do with our wealth, i.e., our time, our abilities and our resources that count. While the rich man could have helped Lazarus before, he did not, and Lazarus cannot do anything to help the rich man now.

This Gospel stresses the urgency for us to act in this lifetime and suggests that the righteous and the “wicked” may see each other after death…but if they are attentive to the presence of the Kingdom of God, they may see both each other while on this earth.

Crime and Punishment

I think Alfred Hitchcock must have liked Luke. Likewise, I’m sure Luke would have been a big fan of Hitchcock’s films, many of which had twisted endings in which crime and punishment were somehow turned upside down and left us wondering what just happened. And so it is with Luke 16:1-13. We’re convinced that the dishonest manager is finished, but is he? 

Most of us have jobs that conform to specific job descriptions that are beholden to specific performance standards to which we are accountable. If our performance exceeds expectations, we are rewarded; likewise, if our performance falls short of expectations, we can be subject to remediation, probation and dismissal. Now the “dishonest manager,” as Jesus has already named him, is an “employee at will” and fired without so much as an opportunity to speak, much less redeem himself. The rich man was completely in his right to fire him for squandering his property.

So, here’s Luke’s surprise ending: instead of being punished and used as a model for bad behavior, the manager is given credit for being shrewd because he feathered his own nest by ingratiating himself to his employer’s debtors by discounting what is owed without any authorization. Instead of being thrown in jail, he was acknowledged for using his resources to provide for his future as he was forced to leave his job. I don’t think we would regard the manager as a model citizen but he was able to secure his future by establishing new friendships of those who were at one time in his debt. The dishonest manager was not respectable because he defied the law. Couldn’t the same be said for Jesus? He broke all the laws and was executed. 

Jesus refused to yield to the love of power and lived the power of love by defying the hypocrisy of those who sit in judgment. He reached out with compassion to the “crooks” and “sinners” in us all, who might otherwise never feel worthy of meeting the expectations of a “harsh judge.”  

Are there those we dismiss or overlook as though they have no value? How about those whose lifestyle is different from ours…do we dismiss them as having nothing worth contributing? Are they too young, too old, and too impaired to add anything to our lives and to our Church? Looking for the good in people is impossible if we treat them as having no redemptive value.  

“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” (Mother Theresa)

 

Lost and Found

 

We all know what it’s like to lose something or someone. Perhaps we can remember a time when we felt lost. We all know those associated feelings that border on fear, if not terror. Reading Luke 15:1-32 helps us to remember how we felt when we experienced loss and the joy we felt when we were “reunited” or “found.”

One of my most memorable experiences with loss goes back to my early childhood and is indelibly ingrained in my memory. I was not more than five and we were at a crowded beach in Coney Island. I suppose I got a little bored sitting on the blanket alone with my mother and sleeping baby sister and remember pestering my mother about wanting to get some water for my pail to bring back to the blanket where we were sitting and make some mud pies. Mom resisted my going to the shore alone and did not want to leave my sister sleeping and unattended. I finally convinced her that I would not get lost and would be always aware of where she was. She yielded and so I made my way with my metal pail and shovel in tow, carefully drawing a “tether” line in the sand with my foot. I played at the surfside for a bit, filled my pail and turned to make my way back to the blanket. Of course, the line was obliterated and I immediately panicked because I couldn’t find the line in the sand leading back, and above all could not see my mother. I remember being overcome with fear and began to cry. A woman standing nearby came to my aid, and assured me that we would find my mother, who within seconds, I’m sure appeared. Although it must have seemed like an eternity to a child. I can still remember what I felt when my mother immediately gathered me up in her arms and held me close, assuring me that I was not lost and that I was always in her sight. I suppose the reason I can still remember this event so vividly is because of the “palpable” effect it had and continues to have even as I write today.  

I relate this childhood experience with the stories Jesus uses in our gospel to describe what it means to lose and to find and to be lost and be found. I wonder what is the more memorable of the two emotions, the fear of being lost or the joy of being found. In both instances Luke depicts the joy in finding what was lost and being found. There was no recrimination just joy.

Sometimes when you lose something, it’s a good strategy to retrace your steps and find the spot where you lost it. Revisit the stores where you might have left your credit card; the sink where you took off your wedding band and put in on the soap dish. Retrace your steps.

Where did I mislay my time with God in favor of a crammed social or business calendar? Where did we temporarily misplace our compassion for the poor in favor of self-serving programs? And where did we leave our joy in proclaiming God’s Word

Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

 

 

Please R.S.V.P. As Soon As Possible

Any literal interpretation of Jesus’ words in Luke’s gospel (Luke 14:25-33) would likely challenge the credibility and sensibility of today’s contemporary reader. I can’t even imagine what the people of Luke’s time thought when they heard the words "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”

After all these weeks we finally understand that Luke has a reason for speaking so directly to his audience, who while relatively affluent, was living in difficult times. Luke’s world was not a peaceful one; the Jews and early Christians faced a domination system that threatened their existence. In helping us understand Luke, David Steindl-Rast tells us that metaphor speaks to our intellect through our poetic sensibility. He suggests that reading the Bible or Gospel requires that we tune into the language of metaphor which asks that we take it seriously but not take it literally and that we read these lines as we might read poetry. Literal translations deny our ability to feel the words that take our individual meanings beyond mere intellect. Is this not another way of understanding what we mean when we say and the Word was made flesh? The meaning not the words become part of our being; we don’t just understand what we are reading, we know down deep inside us.

We have all been involved in the planning of a party either as hosts or as guests. We have all experienced the initial excitement in discussing plans. But how many times do we renege or receive polite apologies when it comes time to commit? Are you or we coming to the party? Isn’t this a little how we feel in reading Luke’s gospel? How do we politely decline Jesus’ invitation to the banquet; it sounded so good in the planning stage but isn’t this a lot to ask of us right now; would you mind if I take a rain check? I’d really like to but I’m not sure I have what it takes to get involved right now. I know God will understand.

Now as for Jesus’ invitation. I suppose we can ask for a rain check but in the long… and short run, we are hurting ourselves. By saying “no” to Jesus’ invitation- “maybe later” - we are denying ourselves the opportunity to experience the Kingdom of God not just later, but right now, here in the present. Living for others out of our love for God, is the only way to find joy, peace, and a repaired relationship with God and each other in this world and in the hereafter. This is at the heart of Luke’s gospel and at the heart of Christianity.

By now we’ve learned that following Jesus is more than just sitting back and listening to a beloved teacher. Jesus’ words are meant to get us to move and to give up those things that get in the way and to surrender to His will. In essence this is what it means to be transformed in His likeness and what it means to be part of the “Body of Christ.” We don’t want to miss this party!

A Reluctant Dinner Invitation

I'm sure we all played the familiar game: who are the three people you would like to invite to dinner and why. The guests may have likely included Mother Theresa, Martin Luther King, Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, Mary, St. Paul, and my parents. Of course, it was a given… Jesus was always at the top of my list. The proposed dinner guests would invariably change depending on where we were at given points in our lives. Jesus was a constant.

However, after reading Luke these many weeks I might rethink inviting Jesus to dinner. Really, he always tends to make a scene or create a disturbance. We could find ourselves possibly siding with the Pharisees as they raised their eyebrows at Jesus and his disheveled group of “party goers” who tended to eat and drink to excess. And remember the woman who in the middle of having a “meltdown,” crashes an important dinner party and cries all over Jesus feet? What about Jesus taking poor Martha to task for complaining about her sister who instead of helping with the dinner, is hanging around with all the men in the dining room. And now here in (Luke 14:1, 7-14) he is not only telling us who to invite to our party, but where they should sit when they do arrive. Frankly, Jesus can be a risky guest.

Although it can be confusing and at times disturbing, there is a consistent theme in Luke’s gospels. He warns us about becoming too comfortable with protocol for protocol sake. Self-imposed cultural niceties fast become devices to exclude “others” who are different from us. Of course it’s easier for us to associate with those who are just like us and reinforce our comfort zone. But perhaps we should ask why do they make us uncomfortable? Do we see in them, something about ourselves that make us uncomfortable? Perhaps we believe that associating with the “disenfranchised” cannot help us socially, economically, or emotionally…but what about spiritually?

 

Strive For the Prize

Once again we are reminded that Jesus is wasting no time in making his way to Jerusalem: “He was passing through from one city and village to another, teaching and proceeding on His way to Jerusalem.” (Luke 13:22-30) Because we know the end of the story, the very mention of Jerusalem strikes an ominous chord since it meant rejection by his followers and the horror of the cross. Along the way some unnamed person in the crowd asks Jesus, “Lord, are there just a few who are being saved?” Whatever his motives, the enquirer may have been aware of the increasing opposition from some religious leaders and he might have sensed that the crowds, despite superficial interest in Jesus’ message, tended to side with their leaders. But he asked a follow-up question, “Are there just a few who are being saved?” Jesus did not answer the question directly but in typical fashion answered his question with a question and asked, “Will the saved be you?”

Jesus was speaking to a crowd made up mostly of religious Jews. Almost without exception, they believed in the one true God. They were not agnostics; they were faithful to the Hebrew Scriptures and lived in basic accordance with them. In giving his answer, Jesus was not addressing a Godless audience. He was talking to a “church” crowd, most of whom assumed that they would go to heaven because they were good Jews. He gives us and them church folks some important and practical lessons on the subject of his Kingdom which he says requires our earnest effort, our urgent attention, and our careful self-examination. It requires our earnest effort because the entrance door is narrow. It requires our urgent attention because the door is soon to be closed. It requires our careful self-examination because once it is closed, the door will be eternally-closed.

Our Lord did not say, “Good question sir! Now, let’s divide up into groups and come up with a consensus as to what each of you thinks about what I said and report back.” Jesus was in a hurry; he’s moving quickly, his time is limited and he wasn’t interested in speculation about theology. He was concerned about the personal salvation of his listeners. So, rather than opening it up for discussion, Jesus gave a command that applied the question to his hearers’ hearts: “Strive to enter by the narrow door.”

Strive implies a great deal of effort. How a propos the word, strive, considering the ongoing Olympic games in Rio. How I marvel at the dedication of the athletes and especially Michael Phelps, who despite his relative “advanced age” strived to find whatever it took to medal in his events. Gold medals are not won by being passive. You never hear an athlete receiving the gold medal, who says, “I had never worked out or ran in a race until a few weeks ago. I thought it would be fun, so here I am.” Every athlete who wins strives to win. He invests great energy and effort into winning. It is not an accident if he wins. It is the result of deliberate and sustained effort and commitment.

The fact that the door is narrow implies that it takes some deliberate thought and effort to go through it. There aren’t many doors into the “place,” so that you can’t take your pick. There is one and only one door, which is Jesus Christ. He alone is the way, the truth, and the light. “No one comes to the Father except by Him” says John. There isn’t one great big door that’s easy to find and stroll through without thinking about it. There is one narrow door. You might not like the fact that it is narrow. You may think that it’s too exclusive. You may say, “I believe that God is loving and that He will accept everyone who tries to do his best. I believe that all sincere people will get through the door.” But, according to Jesus it is narrow, not wide. He made it narrow without checking with us for our ideas about how wide it should be. Jesus is asking, “Are you striving to enter the narrow door? Are you making your faith a matter of deliberate and sustained effort? Are you sure that you’re entering the narrow door as defined by Jesus and not a broad door of your own choosing?” You say, “Whoa! I thought that my salvation is a free gift, received simply by grace through faith, not a matter of our effort. How does this harmonize with striving for it?”

Jesus isn’t talking about being united with God by works or human effort. He is talking about our attitude toward it. He has been telling us all along that nothing takes precedence over our relationship with God. Nothing on earth should get in the way and that our relationship with Him and our quest be not just good for an occasional stimulating theological discussion but living in the love of Jesus’ teachings. Our journey is not easy and we, like the Olympic athletes, must dedicate our lives to the goal and strive to enter by the narrow door every day of our lives.

 

I came to bring fire to the earth

Luke’s Gospel (Luke 12:49-53) appears to be a departure from his preceding accounts. In earlier writings he reminds us not to be “foolish” and to be at the ready but He also tells us that the God’s Kingdom is ours. So this stern message is a departure from what preceded: I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!
 History by its very definition is an account of the past which while a recording of what has transpired, cannot be separated from the time and events of the day in which it is written. Nor for that matter, can it be read in a vacuum. Likewise, history’s account is influenced by the author’s own perspective. And so it is with Luke, who while conditioned by traditions that he has inherited, is focused on his goals for relating the story of Jesus to his community.

While as stated, history is by definition retrospective, what we learn from history is projected forward and applied to our own personal experience. As interesting as the historical context of Luke’s day may be, we ask what we can learn from this account and what does it say about us and our lives today. Jesus’ words set in the time of Luke were written for an audience that lived almost a century after Jesus died. This period reflects the turmoil of Luke’s day: there was wealth; poverty; political domination; dissension among the ranks of the new Christian communities, and a growing impatience created by the delay of Jesus’ anticipated return.

No doubt that Luke is providing insight for what is in store for Jesus as he makes his way to Jerusalem. Here, we get a glimpse of Jesus’ humanity when he says what stress I am under until it is completed! Jesus proclaims that the Kingdom of God is a “new world order” that is centered on the power of love not the love of power. As with the “rich fool” those governed by wealth, status and power will live in a “house divided" on so many different levels.

Families, nations and communities will live in turmoil. There is no other way to peace but through love, forgiveness and humility. So, when we look at our world beset by radical terrorism with thousands of people seeking refuge and asylum, and we see and hear the political turmoil that divides friends and families in our country today, how does this gospel speak to us this day in August,  2016?