Proper 7
Genesis 21:8-21 with Ps 86:1-10, 16-17 or
Jeremiah 20:7-13 with Ps 69:7-10, (11-15), 16-18
Romans 6:1b-11
Mattthew 10:24-39
It is in the nature of coherence to hold on to something. In your church this Sunday you will organize around an idea, search for its nuances, and affirm its power and identity that draws you together as a congregation. It is in our nature that we hold on to something. We learned this week that even on Mars grains of soil clump together and resist falling through a screen designed to break them apart before they are baked and analyzed.
For better or worse we are creatures with ideological tendencies that clump our thoughts. Our sense of the way things should be is powerful enough to deny all evidence to the contrary.
I remember visiting a school of architecture in the Soviet Union before the curtain that separated it from the rest of the world was drawn aside. The steps that led into the building had been miss-measured, breaking any sense of stride. Evidently the presence of a three inch step among its five inch partners had not been noticed.
Ideology allows us to have the answer before we entertain the question. It organizes our thinking, our responses, and our perception of the world. We fall victim to its power because it is in our very nature to hold on to something as we make sense of the world.
When Scripture asks us to break the mould we can't help but wince a bit. Both this week's Gospel reading and the powerful story of Hagar's banishment cause us to do just that. And both stories cause us to uncover just how deeply we hold on to our vision of the way the world should be.
How could it be, we wonder, that the searing but petty jealousy of one person could lead to the banishment of another? How could it be that a mother and child could be sent into the desert to die? How could the tragedy of Darfur happen? And how could it be that Jesus would combine words of consolation that remind us that we are valued with words that have the potential to divide families?
Once again a flurry of memories flashes though me. I remember the anguish of a father who lost his daughter to a cult because she felt “led” to rearrange family priorities by bringing them to an end. His mission became a search for reconnection with his daughter and an effort to let others know about the power of the cult.
“That's too harsh a reading,” I say to myself. Christianity is not a cult. God does not contradict God, I say to myself. There is a commandment about honoring one's father and mother, another one about love, another about humility.
In those thoughts I realize I am organizing what Jesus' words and Hagar's harrowing experience according to my own sense of coherence. I realize how tempting it is to shut God out. Without a sword to cut through my winces, chances are I might not, or could not, or would not hear what life has to say. There is a reason for Jesus' powerful warning.
When the expected world of Hagar, Abraham and Ishmael came to an end God started a new story authored not in fear but in hope. “Do not be afraid.” Having caught our attention, Jesus ends his remarks with words that are not about loss. “Those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” The progeny of the child Ishmael will become a great nation.
The phone rings.
The caller's voice is wrapped in palpable despair. It is the kind of call pastors, churches and friends receive from those whose worlds have collapsed. “It's getting worse,” she says concerning her condition. “I'm scared.” We know we cannot turn the clock back, that expected healings cannot be found, that comparison is an enemy. What “was” no longer fits with what “is” and the future has yet to speak. Devoting too much attention to what was, and the losses that caused it to fade away can only lock us in the past. We talk a bit about the need to adapt, the need to not lose courage, and the need to trust that life is speaking. We are grateful we can reach out to each other and encourage the embrace of a new day. Circumstance, fierce and unrelenting as it may be, must not define us. We are both aware it is not an easy teaching.
And yet the word of hope has been around since the days of Genesis. Our family arrangements, our health, our very being, and our desire for coherence must not preclude new experiences that bring us to life. God, this week's stories tell us, wants to establish new connections with us.
The opening line of the Leading Causes of Life is just four words long. “Life has a language,” we write. As we set aside fear, and move beyond circumstance, we too may find water in the desert and the sight of a mere sparrow will remind us that we are loved. The texts that center on coherence, call us to connection.
As the psalmist writes:
Give ear, O Lord, to my prayer;
listen to my cry of supplication.
In the day of my trouble I call on you,
for you will answer me.
I close with the readings, and an apology for my Lectionary absence these past few weeks as circumstance made a difficult appearance in our lives as well. And yet, once again, we live with newfound hope.
Genesis 21:8-21
The child grew, and was weaned; and Abraham made a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned. But Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, whom she had borne to Abraham, playing with her son Isaac. So she said to Abraham, "Cast out this slave woman with her son; for the son of this slave woman shall not inherit along with my son Isaac." The matter was very distressing to Abraham on account of his son. But God said to Abraham, "Do not be distressed because of the boy and because of your slave woman; whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you, for it is through Isaac that offspring shall be named after you. As for the son of the slave woman, I will make a nation of him also, because he is your offspring." So Abraham rose early in the morning, and took bread and a skin of water, and gave it to Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, along with the child, and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered about in the wilderness of Beersheba.
When the water in the skin was gone, she cast the child under one of the bushes. Then she went and sat down opposite him a good way off, about the distance of a bowshot; for she said, "Do not let me look on the death of the child." And as she sat opposite him, she lifted up her voice and wept. And God heard the voice of the boy; and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven, and said to her, "What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid; for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him." Then God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water. She went, and filled the skin with water, and gave the boy a drink.
God was with the boy, and he grew up; he lived in the wilderness, and became an expert with the bow. He lived in the wilderness of Paran; and his mother got a wife for him from the land of Egypt.
Psalm 86:1-10, 16-17
Incline your ear, O Lord, and answer me,
for I am poor and needy.
Preserve my life, for I am devoted to you;
save your servant who trusts in you.
You are my God; be gracious to me, O Lord,
for to you do I cry all day long.
Gladden the soul of your servant,
for to you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
For you, O Lord, are good and forgiving,
abounding in steadfast love to all who call on you.
Give ear, O Lord, to my prayer;
listen to my cry of supplication.
In the day of my trouble I call on you,
for you will answer me.
There is none like you among the gods, O Lord,
nor are there any works like yours.
All the nations you have made shall come
and bow down before you, O Lord,
and shall glorify your name.
For you are great and do wondrous things;
you alone are God.
Turn to me and be gracious to me;
give your strength to your servant;
save the child of your serving-maid.
Show me a sign of your favor,
so that those who hate me may see it and be put to shame,
because you, Lord, have helped me and comforted me.
Matthew 10:24-39
[Jesus said:]
"A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebub, how much more will they malign those of his household!
"So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground unperceived by your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.
"Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.
"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.
"For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it."
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, May 25, 2008
Proper 3
Isaiah 49:8-16a
Psalm 131
1 Corinthians 4:1-5
Matthew 6:24-34
Life has a language.
And once again Scripture has a word for us.
There are few passages in which Jesus' teaching about life is as direct, poetic, and as wise as today's reading. We meet Jesus the teacher, Jesus the poet who learns from the fields and the birds of the air, and Jesus the wise man whose wisdom surpasses that of Solomon. In each instance his words are about life.
Jesus' words as a teacher are sharp and direct. “You cannot serve God and wealth,” he says. One must make a choice. It is a choice that Jesus himself made one day when he was in the desert and, famished, he was tempted to turn stones into bread. We do not live by bread alone, he responded, laying the foundation for the words he would say later in his ministry. “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”
The answer to his rhetorical question is, “Yes!” The “more” involves an abiding trust in God. After the temptation, angels would stop by and tend to the thirsty and famished Jesus. The “more” involves taking seriously the connection between God and our needs. We observe this connection every time we sit down at the table and say grace before a meal. In this way the meal is no longer “just food,” it is a gift that allows us to say “thank you” with our heart, our mind, and our strength.
Jesus then waxes poetic. It is not the first time scripture turns to the natural world to deliver its message. When God spoke to Job from the whirlwind he referred to the hail, the wind, the stars; the lip of a wave that washes ashore, stops at a certain point, and then retreats back into the sea. Creation is mysterious but well ordered. Nothing is overlooked, forgotten, or outside the ring of God's providential care. Jesus asks us to observe creation and to learn from it. The text that started by stressing connection has now moved to coherence.
Lest we be overly entranced by the sheer poetry of his words, Jesus makes sure we will not miss the point. “Do not worry, saying, 'what will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ ”
Our life, he says, is more than the circumstances of our lives. He says this knowing that the circumstances of our lives are indeed difficult, and that they tend to become all-consuming. Yesterday I happened to be speaking with a hospital administrator who remarked that the current recession couldn't help but put a squeeze on hospitals. As more and more families are unable to pay their medical bills the system can't help but wonder how it is going to keep up.
I think back to church committee meetings in which concerns about the church almost overshadowed our love for the mission and ministry of the church. We were indeed those of “little faith” as circumstance – too thin an offering, too small a congregation, too many conflicting personalities, too few connections with the wider world, all took their toll. There was a sense in which we thought we were being responsible by giving attention to every problem we could find. But pretty soon we noticed that there was more to life than analysis, more to church than budgetary shortfalls, more to community than just our members, and more to our presence than the sum total of our own energy.
In short, worry had taken its toll. Worry is a strange thing. It is invariably correct. But it solves nothing and does not lead to action. And so agency and hope makes their appearance in the text. Instead of worrying we are to serve God all the more. Instead of feeding on despair we are to find hope. Had Jesus turned the stones into bread he would have soon been hungry once again. Instead he waited for the angels to make their unexpected appearance.
Life invariably demands a string of choices. We can connect with God, or we can distrust God. We can learn from creation or we can disregard its teachings and try to control our own lives as though we were the only game in town.
That's not to say, however, that these choices are easy. As Gary and I were writing the Leading Causes of Life it kept striking me that they would not allow for “pretend.” Each of the causes has a raw and visceral edge. It takes courage to keep hope alive in the face of medical catastrophe. It takes sheer guts to trust in creation's order when one has lost a job, or when natural disaster plays its hand.
I have always found bible study to be an essential part of sermon preparation. Bible studies form an intersection of connection and coherence as a small group meets to see what the Word has to say, and how lives can be shared. At this week's session everyone in the circle was well over 80 years old, and few of them could fend for themselves. We read the passage, and almost immediately a question surfaced.
“If we were in Burma, and our home had been swept away, could we preach this passage?”
“Or what if we were in China?” asked another.
“I don't think so,” said one elderly woman. “I just don't think you could. It wouldn't be right to preach this to a group of starving people.”
“But I think you could,” said another. “The Scripture is about worry. It doesn't say we're not supposed to care.”
“It’s about keeping God first,'” adds another of the women.
“If we do that we'll know what to do.”
We talk for a moment about the choices churches make. One of the women works the church food shelf which has had an increasing number of people to serve. Another remembers folding used clothing to give away. I think of my visits home where my 89 year-old father invariably asks me to help him pick up groceries at his Quaker church and take them over to the Lutheran church for distribution. We remember Katrina and the way churches opened their doors to those in need. We realize that worry didn't inspire any of this. It was motivated by concern.
For life to speak we must find the courage to move worry to the side. It is not something we can do alone. It is best done together. And, we realized, this is indeed what churches do.
I close with the text itself, thankful for Jesus the teacher, Jesus the poet, and Jesus the seer who asks us to keep in mind that the day has troubles of its own and while it calls for our lives, it certainly does not need our worries.
Thanks be to God, and thanks be to you.
Matthew 6:24-34
No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?
Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing?
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?
Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.
But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Isaiah 49:8-16a
Psalm 131
1 Corinthians 4:1-5
Matthew 6:24-34
Life has a language.
And once again Scripture has a word for us.
There are few passages in which Jesus' teaching about life is as direct, poetic, and as wise as today's reading. We meet Jesus the teacher, Jesus the poet who learns from the fields and the birds of the air, and Jesus the wise man whose wisdom surpasses that of Solomon. In each instance his words are about life.
Jesus' words as a teacher are sharp and direct. “You cannot serve God and wealth,” he says. One must make a choice. It is a choice that Jesus himself made one day when he was in the desert and, famished, he was tempted to turn stones into bread. We do not live by bread alone, he responded, laying the foundation for the words he would say later in his ministry. “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”
The answer to his rhetorical question is, “Yes!” The “more” involves an abiding trust in God. After the temptation, angels would stop by and tend to the thirsty and famished Jesus. The “more” involves taking seriously the connection between God and our needs. We observe this connection every time we sit down at the table and say grace before a meal. In this way the meal is no longer “just food,” it is a gift that allows us to say “thank you” with our heart, our mind, and our strength.
Jesus then waxes poetic. It is not the first time scripture turns to the natural world to deliver its message. When God spoke to Job from the whirlwind he referred to the hail, the wind, the stars; the lip of a wave that washes ashore, stops at a certain point, and then retreats back into the sea. Creation is mysterious but well ordered. Nothing is overlooked, forgotten, or outside the ring of God's providential care. Jesus asks us to observe creation and to learn from it. The text that started by stressing connection has now moved to coherence.
Lest we be overly entranced by the sheer poetry of his words, Jesus makes sure we will not miss the point. “Do not worry, saying, 'what will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ ”
Our life, he says, is more than the circumstances of our lives. He says this knowing that the circumstances of our lives are indeed difficult, and that they tend to become all-consuming. Yesterday I happened to be speaking with a hospital administrator who remarked that the current recession couldn't help but put a squeeze on hospitals. As more and more families are unable to pay their medical bills the system can't help but wonder how it is going to keep up.
I think back to church committee meetings in which concerns about the church almost overshadowed our love for the mission and ministry of the church. We were indeed those of “little faith” as circumstance – too thin an offering, too small a congregation, too many conflicting personalities, too few connections with the wider world, all took their toll. There was a sense in which we thought we were being responsible by giving attention to every problem we could find. But pretty soon we noticed that there was more to life than analysis, more to church than budgetary shortfalls, more to community than just our members, and more to our presence than the sum total of our own energy.
In short, worry had taken its toll. Worry is a strange thing. It is invariably correct. But it solves nothing and does not lead to action. And so agency and hope makes their appearance in the text. Instead of worrying we are to serve God all the more. Instead of feeding on despair we are to find hope. Had Jesus turned the stones into bread he would have soon been hungry once again. Instead he waited for the angels to make their unexpected appearance.
Life invariably demands a string of choices. We can connect with God, or we can distrust God. We can learn from creation or we can disregard its teachings and try to control our own lives as though we were the only game in town.
That's not to say, however, that these choices are easy. As Gary and I were writing the Leading Causes of Life it kept striking me that they would not allow for “pretend.” Each of the causes has a raw and visceral edge. It takes courage to keep hope alive in the face of medical catastrophe. It takes sheer guts to trust in creation's order when one has lost a job, or when natural disaster plays its hand.
I have always found bible study to be an essential part of sermon preparation. Bible studies form an intersection of connection and coherence as a small group meets to see what the Word has to say, and how lives can be shared. At this week's session everyone in the circle was well over 80 years old, and few of them could fend for themselves. We read the passage, and almost immediately a question surfaced.
“If we were in Burma, and our home had been swept away, could we preach this passage?”
“Or what if we were in China?” asked another.
“I don't think so,” said one elderly woman. “I just don't think you could. It wouldn't be right to preach this to a group of starving people.”
“But I think you could,” said another. “The Scripture is about worry. It doesn't say we're not supposed to care.”
“It’s about keeping God first,'” adds another of the women.
“If we do that we'll know what to do.”
We talk for a moment about the choices churches make. One of the women works the church food shelf which has had an increasing number of people to serve. Another remembers folding used clothing to give away. I think of my visits home where my 89 year-old father invariably asks me to help him pick up groceries at his Quaker church and take them over to the Lutheran church for distribution. We remember Katrina and the way churches opened their doors to those in need. We realize that worry didn't inspire any of this. It was motivated by concern.
For life to speak we must find the courage to move worry to the side. It is not something we can do alone. It is best done together. And, we realized, this is indeed what churches do.
I close with the text itself, thankful for Jesus the teacher, Jesus the poet, and Jesus the seer who asks us to keep in mind that the day has troubles of its own and while it calls for our lives, it certainly does not need our worries.
Thanks be to God, and thanks be to you.
Matthew 6:24-34
No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.
Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?
Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing?
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?
Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.
But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, May 18, 2008
Trinity Sunday
Genesis 1:1-2:4a
Ps 8
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Matt 28:16-20
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
Before Pentecost, our Lectionary readings spoke of agency. Something was going to happen that would activate our lives. It would send us from a locked room into the world assuring us we are never alone and that we are called to serve wherever we may be.
Last Sunday we decked the church in red to celebrate the Spirit's astonishing arrival. Red stoles that had been stored in dark closets made their way to the shoulders of clergy whose sermons invariably said, “Look what happened!” and then added, “It is still happening if we let it!” Sermons ended with benedictions asking parishioners to “go forth” into the world knowing they had an Advocate, a Sustainer, and a Comforter. And then the banners are put away and we live in the embers of Pentecost's staggering power.
Flames are good, but often embers are better. We can carry embers with us, we can live with them knowing they will carry their warmth and the potential of light for many days. They can light fires when needed, be carried on the wind from time to time, and can warm the earth as well as the air. We have a long time to live in the embers of Pentecost. The green banners we put in place will stay in place until late November when the snows of a new church year bring us into Advent. It is not surprising that the language of scripture adjusts as well. Agency may ignite our lives into action, but the coherence of creation takes time. God did not create the world and its many inhabitants in a flash. Like our lives the creation happened over time.
We read the long Genesis passage and marvel once again at its patient beauty.
On all sides God gives form to that which had been formless and illuminates that which had been covered in darkness. Order replaces chaos. Dry land is given its place, the waters are given their place, animals have their place, trees their place, the sky its place, fish and birds their place, and humankind and even its relationship with creation has its place. Nothing is out of order.
From scripture we take our cue.
What is it that churches do? They bring order to our lives, harmony to our communities, and healing when chaos threatens what God created. We enter churches in search of healing, in search of understanding, in need of both strength and mending. Whether we seek creation or recreation we anticipate and hope for order.
And what is it that hospitals do? They also bring order into our lives. I write these words a day after Connie and I returned home after a two-day hospital stay. Its purpose was to determine why the pain in her body had grown increasingly disabling, and to see what could be done about it. Many incisions later we hope that life will prevail, that creation's power will turn back pain that had no boundaries.
We were both touched by, and struck by, the sheer beauty of the experience in the hospital, difficult though the surgery was. The five lenses of our Leading Causes of Life— connection, coherence, agency, hope and blessing – helped frame the experience. The hallways of the new building were bright and beautiful, the windows flooded with light, the artwork in the hallways stunning in its reminder of creation's intrinsic harmony. Even the signs that showed us where to go were clear, elegant and meaningful. One could not get “lost” in this house of healing.
As I sat in the surgical waiting room, and as the hour got later and later, the attendant went out of her way to keep tabs on both how I was doing and on the status of Connie's surgery. Noting that it had all taken a very long time, she called the doctor to make sure he would be stopping by. The Spirit of Pentecost, who promised we would not be alone, seemed to supply a woman who for 27 years cared for people who sat in that room wondering if the disorder of disease could be excised, if healing might return, if hope would present itself anew.
After Connie was wheeled to her room, the nurses that arrived were a study in the confluence of coherence and connection. There was nothing haphazard about their presence. Their spirits were alert, their voices confident, their questions both incisive and searching, their sense of compassion deep, their humor quick. They were doing life's work with skill, care and an understanding that healing called for and received all of their attention.
The place may be a hospital. Or it may be a church. Or it may be a body. Whatever the place, healing is the call and creation the process through which we speak the language of life that emphasizes coherence, connection, hope and blessing. In each place there is much to be concerned about.
Chaos does indeed threaten us. Not every hospital connection turns out to be healing. Not every sermon inspires hope, and not every church is aware of its neighbors or of the storms that threaten the lives of parishioners. There are governments that refuse to allow healers, medicines and food to enter “their” country. In our own country the cost of healing often breaks the backs of those in need of care. Restoring order, indeed perhaps even insisting on it, calls for all the strength and discipline we can muster. It is a life-centered discipline that requires and occupies our full attention.
We are not surprised creation took seven days. Neither are we surprised that working with the Spirit that spoke to us on Pentecost requires a string of Sundays that take us from spring into summer and then into the fall. We may refer to these Sundays as “ordinary time” but with our ear attuned to life we know there is nothing ordinary about it.
Throughout it all coherence plays its hand. “Put things in order,” Paul wrote to the church in Corinth.
And so we do. Over at the hospital, here at home, and in our churches we seek yet again to put things in order. It is, of course, the way of life.
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Finally, brothers and sisters, farewell. Put things in order, listen to my appeal, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the saints greet you.
The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Genesis 1:1-2:4a
Ps 8
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Matt 28:16-20
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
Before Pentecost, our Lectionary readings spoke of agency. Something was going to happen that would activate our lives. It would send us from a locked room into the world assuring us we are never alone and that we are called to serve wherever we may be.
Last Sunday we decked the church in red to celebrate the Spirit's astonishing arrival. Red stoles that had been stored in dark closets made their way to the shoulders of clergy whose sermons invariably said, “Look what happened!” and then added, “It is still happening if we let it!” Sermons ended with benedictions asking parishioners to “go forth” into the world knowing they had an Advocate, a Sustainer, and a Comforter. And then the banners are put away and we live in the embers of Pentecost's staggering power.
Flames are good, but often embers are better. We can carry embers with us, we can live with them knowing they will carry their warmth and the potential of light for many days. They can light fires when needed, be carried on the wind from time to time, and can warm the earth as well as the air. We have a long time to live in the embers of Pentecost. The green banners we put in place will stay in place until late November when the snows of a new church year bring us into Advent. It is not surprising that the language of scripture adjusts as well. Agency may ignite our lives into action, but the coherence of creation takes time. God did not create the world and its many inhabitants in a flash. Like our lives the creation happened over time.
We read the long Genesis passage and marvel once again at its patient beauty.
On all sides God gives form to that which had been formless and illuminates that which had been covered in darkness. Order replaces chaos. Dry land is given its place, the waters are given their place, animals have their place, trees their place, the sky its place, fish and birds their place, and humankind and even its relationship with creation has its place. Nothing is out of order.
From scripture we take our cue.
What is it that churches do? They bring order to our lives, harmony to our communities, and healing when chaos threatens what God created. We enter churches in search of healing, in search of understanding, in need of both strength and mending. Whether we seek creation or recreation we anticipate and hope for order.
And what is it that hospitals do? They also bring order into our lives. I write these words a day after Connie and I returned home after a two-day hospital stay. Its purpose was to determine why the pain in her body had grown increasingly disabling, and to see what could be done about it. Many incisions later we hope that life will prevail, that creation's power will turn back pain that had no boundaries.
We were both touched by, and struck by, the sheer beauty of the experience in the hospital, difficult though the surgery was. The five lenses of our Leading Causes of Life— connection, coherence, agency, hope and blessing – helped frame the experience. The hallways of the new building were bright and beautiful, the windows flooded with light, the artwork in the hallways stunning in its reminder of creation's intrinsic harmony. Even the signs that showed us where to go were clear, elegant and meaningful. One could not get “lost” in this house of healing.
As I sat in the surgical waiting room, and as the hour got later and later, the attendant went out of her way to keep tabs on both how I was doing and on the status of Connie's surgery. Noting that it had all taken a very long time, she called the doctor to make sure he would be stopping by. The Spirit of Pentecost, who promised we would not be alone, seemed to supply a woman who for 27 years cared for people who sat in that room wondering if the disorder of disease could be excised, if healing might return, if hope would present itself anew.
After Connie was wheeled to her room, the nurses that arrived were a study in the confluence of coherence and connection. There was nothing haphazard about their presence. Their spirits were alert, their voices confident, their questions both incisive and searching, their sense of compassion deep, their humor quick. They were doing life's work with skill, care and an understanding that healing called for and received all of their attention.
The place may be a hospital. Or it may be a church. Or it may be a body. Whatever the place, healing is the call and creation the process through which we speak the language of life that emphasizes coherence, connection, hope and blessing. In each place there is much to be concerned about.
Chaos does indeed threaten us. Not every hospital connection turns out to be healing. Not every sermon inspires hope, and not every church is aware of its neighbors or of the storms that threaten the lives of parishioners. There are governments that refuse to allow healers, medicines and food to enter “their” country. In our own country the cost of healing often breaks the backs of those in need of care. Restoring order, indeed perhaps even insisting on it, calls for all the strength and discipline we can muster. It is a life-centered discipline that requires and occupies our full attention.
We are not surprised creation took seven days. Neither are we surprised that working with the Spirit that spoke to us on Pentecost requires a string of Sundays that take us from spring into summer and then into the fall. We may refer to these Sundays as “ordinary time” but with our ear attuned to life we know there is nothing ordinary about it.
Throughout it all coherence plays its hand. “Put things in order,” Paul wrote to the church in Corinth.
And so we do. Over at the hospital, here at home, and in our churches we seek yet again to put things in order. It is, of course, the way of life.
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Finally, brothers and sisters, farewell. Put things in order, listen to my appeal, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the saints greet you.
The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, May 4, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, May 4, 2008
Seventh Sunday of Easter
Acts 1:6-14
Ps 68:1-10, 32-35
1 Pet 4:12-14; 5:6-11
John 17:1-11
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
To everything there is a season, we read in Ecclesiastes. If our five causes — connection, coherence, agency, hope and blessing—reflect the basic structure of life's language — it should not be surprising that each cause has a corresponding liturgical season.
In Advent we anticipate the great connection when the Word becomes flesh and dwells among us.
In Lent we realize our lives need pruning if coherence is to take the place of chaos.
On Easter Sunday hope proves to be well-founded.
And on Pentecost, agency has its day as God asks us to hear something, to speak something, to do something trusting that the Holy Sprit will be our Advocate and Comforter.
In each season, and in the “in-between times” we give and receive blessings each and every day.
For seven consecutive Sundays the Lectionary texts have been preparing us for Pentecost. Although we think of Pentecost as a single day rather than a season, the Lectionary goes out of its way to point out that it is a season that requires both preparation and celebration. “Get ready! Prepare!” the texts seem to say. Having shared that his time with them would soon come to an end and that the Spirit would soon arrive, the Lectionary turns to Peter to show us how to wait.
The first word, “Beloved” is a sermon in and of itself. It is love that connects us with God and with each other. And it is love that defines us as a family. By necessity it is an intensely personal word. “Dearly beloved,” we often say to our parishioners. The two words create a world of meaning, provide a blessed assurance, and create a congregation.
Peter goes on to give practical advice.
“Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you as though something strange was harassing you.” We are tempted to think we are the only ones who have suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, as Hamlet put it. But such a perception would be false. Instead we are to realize that whatever misfortune we have experience has been experienced by many others as well. It is par for the course. Peter writes not to an individual but to a group.
There is strength in solidarity. It is incredibly healing when one realizes his or her experience is shared by others. At an AA meeting the alcoholic realizes he or she can say, “Me too.” At a cancer group, the same words are said. What once appeared as an exceptional experience, as a break in the order we expect for our lives turns out to provide a new common and sacred ground well-traveled by both fellow citizens and Christ.
Then Peter tells us what we are to do. Four verbs set the stage. We are to:
Humble ourselves. We do this by learning to let go and let God, by realizing there are some things we can change and some things we must learn to accept.
Cast all our anxieties on God. In our desire to be responsible we are tempted to cast some of our anxieties, or to trust God with the nonessentials rather than the essentials. But Peter calls for courage and asks us to cast all our anxieties on God.
Once we have done this we are to discipline ourselves. We are to practice trusting God and sharing our lives with others. We are to practice recognizing Christ's presence in all things. It will take discipline to not be overcome by the Adversary who is skilled in the language of death. We are to practice life and resist death.
We are not, however, the only actors. There are also four verbs that describe God's actions. God will restore, support, strengthen and establish us.
Once a week I am blessed to share worship with those whose entire lives would seem to be swept away. No longer able to be cared for by their family, they are now in a long-term care facility. Some can no longer speak, others can no longer remember the names of their sons or daughters, others are not sure where they are. Were one keeping score one might be overwhelmed by loss. But that is not what happens.
The day room in which they gather for devotions is invariably bright at ten o'clock in the morning. I take out my banjo and begin to play. A few people slowly arrive to see what's happening. A few more make their way into the light and look around to see who's there in the welcoming space. Around the corner I see the quiet steps of a walker proceed an inch or two, wait for a moment, and then move forward once again. Soon we are gathered and begin to sing. They sit side by side, aware of each other not by name but by spirit.
It is incredibly beautiful, this living in humility, this presence of life when so much has been taken away. It is incredibly moving, this trusting the day to God. And, for me, it is incredibly sustaining to learn from their discipline that says “it is time for worship, let's follow the music.”
In one fell swoop God supports, strengthens and establishes. Suffering, while palpable and undeniable, makes way for the restoration of life.
Get ready! The text tells us! Much is happening. Open the closet and find the red banners. Next Sunday you'll want them as Pentecost asks us to continue the Spirit's work anew.
We who received the light are to live it. Thanks be to God. Thanks be to the God of life.
1 Pet 4:12-14; 5:6-11
Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed. If you are reviled for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you.
Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you. Discipline yourselves; keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters throughout the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Seventh Sunday of Easter
Acts 1:6-14
Ps 68:1-10, 32-35
1 Pet 4:12-14; 5:6-11
John 17:1-11
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
To everything there is a season, we read in Ecclesiastes. If our five causes — connection, coherence, agency, hope and blessing—reflect the basic structure of life's language — it should not be surprising that each cause has a corresponding liturgical season.
In Advent we anticipate the great connection when the Word becomes flesh and dwells among us.
In Lent we realize our lives need pruning if coherence is to take the place of chaos.
On Easter Sunday hope proves to be well-founded.
And on Pentecost, agency has its day as God asks us to hear something, to speak something, to do something trusting that the Holy Sprit will be our Advocate and Comforter.
In each season, and in the “in-between times” we give and receive blessings each and every day.
For seven consecutive Sundays the Lectionary texts have been preparing us for Pentecost. Although we think of Pentecost as a single day rather than a season, the Lectionary goes out of its way to point out that it is a season that requires both preparation and celebration. “Get ready! Prepare!” the texts seem to say. Having shared that his time with them would soon come to an end and that the Spirit would soon arrive, the Lectionary turns to Peter to show us how to wait.
The first word, “Beloved” is a sermon in and of itself. It is love that connects us with God and with each other. And it is love that defines us as a family. By necessity it is an intensely personal word. “Dearly beloved,” we often say to our parishioners. The two words create a world of meaning, provide a blessed assurance, and create a congregation.
Peter goes on to give practical advice.
“Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you as though something strange was harassing you.” We are tempted to think we are the only ones who have suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, as Hamlet put it. But such a perception would be false. Instead we are to realize that whatever misfortune we have experience has been experienced by many others as well. It is par for the course. Peter writes not to an individual but to a group.
There is strength in solidarity. It is incredibly healing when one realizes his or her experience is shared by others. At an AA meeting the alcoholic realizes he or she can say, “Me too.” At a cancer group, the same words are said. What once appeared as an exceptional experience, as a break in the order we expect for our lives turns out to provide a new common and sacred ground well-traveled by both fellow citizens and Christ.
Then Peter tells us what we are to do. Four verbs set the stage. We are to:
Humble ourselves. We do this by learning to let go and let God, by realizing there are some things we can change and some things we must learn to accept.
Cast all our anxieties on God. In our desire to be responsible we are tempted to cast some of our anxieties, or to trust God with the nonessentials rather than the essentials. But Peter calls for courage and asks us to cast all our anxieties on God.
Once we have done this we are to discipline ourselves. We are to practice trusting God and sharing our lives with others. We are to practice recognizing Christ's presence in all things. It will take discipline to not be overcome by the Adversary who is skilled in the language of death. We are to practice life and resist death.
We are not, however, the only actors. There are also four verbs that describe God's actions. God will restore, support, strengthen and establish us.
Once a week I am blessed to share worship with those whose entire lives would seem to be swept away. No longer able to be cared for by their family, they are now in a long-term care facility. Some can no longer speak, others can no longer remember the names of their sons or daughters, others are not sure where they are. Were one keeping score one might be overwhelmed by loss. But that is not what happens.
The day room in which they gather for devotions is invariably bright at ten o'clock in the morning. I take out my banjo and begin to play. A few people slowly arrive to see what's happening. A few more make their way into the light and look around to see who's there in the welcoming space. Around the corner I see the quiet steps of a walker proceed an inch or two, wait for a moment, and then move forward once again. Soon we are gathered and begin to sing. They sit side by side, aware of each other not by name but by spirit.
It is incredibly beautiful, this living in humility, this presence of life when so much has been taken away. It is incredibly moving, this trusting the day to God. And, for me, it is incredibly sustaining to learn from their discipline that says “it is time for worship, let's follow the music.”
In one fell swoop God supports, strengthens and establishes. Suffering, while palpable and undeniable, makes way for the restoration of life.
Get ready! The text tells us! Much is happening. Open the closet and find the red banners. Next Sunday you'll want them as Pentecost asks us to continue the Spirit's work anew.
We who received the light are to live it. Thanks be to God. Thanks be to the God of life.
1 Pet 4:12-14; 5:6-11
Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in so far as you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed. If you are reviled for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you.
Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you. Discipline yourselves; keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters throughout the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, April 27, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, April 27, 2008
Sixth Sunday of Easter
Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:8-20
1 Peter 3:13-22
John 14:15-21
Let us speak of agency in a time of loss.
The words need not be many. But their tone must be one of unmistakable eloquence. When the times for consolation arise, what we say must lovingly convey what has been, what is, and what will be with an unforgettable economy of expression. Life will not be trifled with. Neither loss, nor hope, is to be denied. We must shy away from speeches or sermons which have a point to make. We refer to Lincoln's words at Gettysburg an address, not a speech. The words Jesus speaks to the disciples in today's Lectionary are also referred to as an address. Once spoken, they frame just who Jesus has been, who the disciples are to be, and how the Spirit's arrival will bless the lives of all that follows.
The presence of both connection and coherence reminds me of a story within the life of my family. It too is a story of both loss and consolation. Nearly a century ago, in northern Wisconsin, on the shore of Lake Superior, an eight year-old child succumbed to scarlet fever. Neither prayer nor medicine could take the fever away. Finally, with my grandfather at his side, he slipped away. Slowly, carefully, my grandfather walked down the stairs, looked at my grandmother, and said, “Helen, we've had him.”
The time for consolation had arrived, just as it would soon arrive for the disciples. The Jesus they knew would soon depart and they would never see him again in the same way. He might appear, for a while here and a while there, but remarkable as the appearances would not be, life would not be the same. Knowing this, and knowing that loss without consolation can sometimes remove us from life, Jesus anticipates their sorrow and bids farewell by sharing the truth of his life.
It was a truth that could only be grasped in the plural.
If they have known God, they have known Jesus. If they have known Jesus they have known God. If they have known each other, they have known what it is to walk with God. If they have known what it is to be present for a moment, they will soon know the profound blessing of an abiding presence that doesn't go away.
Yes, they would know sadness, there will not be loneliness. The disciples would not be abandoned despite Jesus' absence. Neither would they be orphaned because what is being given to them cannot be taken away. The gifts of community turn out to have remarkable staying power. Neither will chaos prevail. To keep it at bay here are commandments to be kept, and they are the commandments of love. Jesus will leave but the Advocate, or Comforter, will arrive. It is God's work; it is Christ's promise; it is the Spirit's presence. Where one begins and another ends is a matter of mystery. The story is one of astonishing mutuality. It is, after all, a love story. In the last verse the word love is used not once or twice but four times.
Like all love stories, it asks us to do something and to receive something. That “something” is life itself. “Because I live, you will also live,” says Jesus. This living will not always be easy. There will be losses, as the poet William Stafford writes, that are too terrible to understand. God knows this; Jesus knows this too, and asks us to rely upon the Advocate. There is a reason six verses of Gospel consolation are paired with 12 verses from Psalm 66 that speak of deliverance from adverse circumstance.
Let us then let the text do its talking:
John 14:15-21
If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you for ever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.
I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.
And then let's let the Psalmist nail it down. It is God who keeps us among the living. And it is the very same God who brings into difficult places.
Bless our God, O peoples, let the
sound of God's praise be heard,
who has kept us among the
living, and has not let our feet slip.
For you, O God, have tested us;
you have tried us as silver is tried.
You brought us into the net;
you laid burdens on our backs;
you let people ride over our heads;
we went through fire
and through water;
yet you have brought us out
to a spacious place.
Blessed be God, because God
has not rejected my prayer
or removed God's steadfast
love from me.
Once again life carries us through.
“Helen, we've had him,” my grandfather said. They did what people do when the time for consolation arrives. They turned to their church, to their faith, and to life. They planted a maple at Jack's grave, and gave a baptismal font to the Episcopal Church in his name. A century later, both are still there.
It is a story of love.
So were the words of Jesus' farewell address that continue to bring us together and give us a world of meaning.
Thanks be to God.
Thanks be to the living God.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Sixth Sunday of Easter
Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:8-20
1 Peter 3:13-22
John 14:15-21
Let us speak of agency in a time of loss.
The words need not be many. But their tone must be one of unmistakable eloquence. When the times for consolation arise, what we say must lovingly convey what has been, what is, and what will be with an unforgettable economy of expression. Life will not be trifled with. Neither loss, nor hope, is to be denied. We must shy away from speeches or sermons which have a point to make. We refer to Lincoln's words at Gettysburg an address, not a speech. The words Jesus speaks to the disciples in today's Lectionary are also referred to as an address. Once spoken, they frame just who Jesus has been, who the disciples are to be, and how the Spirit's arrival will bless the lives of all that follows.
The presence of both connection and coherence reminds me of a story within the life of my family. It too is a story of both loss and consolation. Nearly a century ago, in northern Wisconsin, on the shore of Lake Superior, an eight year-old child succumbed to scarlet fever. Neither prayer nor medicine could take the fever away. Finally, with my grandfather at his side, he slipped away. Slowly, carefully, my grandfather walked down the stairs, looked at my grandmother, and said, “Helen, we've had him.”
The time for consolation had arrived, just as it would soon arrive for the disciples. The Jesus they knew would soon depart and they would never see him again in the same way. He might appear, for a while here and a while there, but remarkable as the appearances would not be, life would not be the same. Knowing this, and knowing that loss without consolation can sometimes remove us from life, Jesus anticipates their sorrow and bids farewell by sharing the truth of his life.
It was a truth that could only be grasped in the plural.
If they have known God, they have known Jesus. If they have known Jesus they have known God. If they have known each other, they have known what it is to walk with God. If they have known what it is to be present for a moment, they will soon know the profound blessing of an abiding presence that doesn't go away.
Yes, they would know sadness, there will not be loneliness. The disciples would not be abandoned despite Jesus' absence. Neither would they be orphaned because what is being given to them cannot be taken away. The gifts of community turn out to have remarkable staying power. Neither will chaos prevail. To keep it at bay here are commandments to be kept, and they are the commandments of love. Jesus will leave but the Advocate, or Comforter, will arrive. It is God's work; it is Christ's promise; it is the Spirit's presence. Where one begins and another ends is a matter of mystery. The story is one of astonishing mutuality. It is, after all, a love story. In the last verse the word love is used not once or twice but four times.
Like all love stories, it asks us to do something and to receive something. That “something” is life itself. “Because I live, you will also live,” says Jesus. This living will not always be easy. There will be losses, as the poet William Stafford writes, that are too terrible to understand. God knows this; Jesus knows this too, and asks us to rely upon the Advocate. There is a reason six verses of Gospel consolation are paired with 12 verses from Psalm 66 that speak of deliverance from adverse circumstance.
Let us then let the text do its talking:
John 14:15-21
If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you for ever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.
I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.
And then let's let the Psalmist nail it down. It is God who keeps us among the living. And it is the very same God who brings into difficult places.
Bless our God, O peoples, let the
sound of God's praise be heard,
who has kept us among the
living, and has not let our feet slip.
For you, O God, have tested us;
you have tried us as silver is tried.
You brought us into the net;
you laid burdens on our backs;
you let people ride over our heads;
we went through fire
and through water;
yet you have brought us out
to a spacious place.
Blessed be God, because God
has not rejected my prayer
or removed God's steadfast
love from me.
Once again life carries us through.
“Helen, we've had him,” my grandfather said. They did what people do when the time for consolation arrives. They turned to their church, to their faith, and to life. They planted a maple at Jack's grave, and gave a baptismal font to the Episcopal Church in his name. A century later, both are still there.
It is a story of love.
So were the words of Jesus' farewell address that continue to bring us together and give us a world of meaning.
Thanks be to God.
Thanks be to the living God.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, April 13, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, April 13, 2008
Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10
Life has a language.
And scripture has a word for us that emerges when we give it a chance.
This week, perhaps at a coffee shop, perhaps at a Bible study, or perhaps even in an extended moment in the passing of the peace, ask a simple question: “Is there a verse of scripture that carries special meaning for you?”
Life may seem chaotic at times, but throughout it all there is a verse or two that connect us with God, that revive hope, that help organize our actions, that center and bless our lives. Asking about the centering verse or verses is a prelude to a conversation about life. And more often than not, the chances are that many will say, “I go to the 23rd Psalm.”
This morning, as we begin devotions at a Day Care center for adults, I can't help but ask the question. It takes about two minutes to hear their answers. Sure enough, over half said, “The 23rd Psalm.”
“Why that one?” I asked.
“It puts me in touch with God the quickest,” one said. We noted that its honesty is reassuring. Our souls do indeed need restoring. We know that left to our own devices we might not lie down beside still waters, we are grateful that God makes us lie down. We know we need to be led in the paths of righteousness. And, most of all, we know you cannot go through life without traveling through some very dark valleys. The psalm does not say we should not be in such a place. Instead it affirms that when troubles arise, as they invariably do, we have no need to be afraid. It is a lively discussion, full of stories waiting to be told.
“Our text today, is the 23rd Psalm,” I said. They were pleased. We knew the morning would be full of stories that brought the psalm to life. We sensed the psalm would make sense of our lives, and our lives would make sense of the psalm.
I couldn't help but begin by telling them about Clara, one of my first parishioners. A frail woman in her mid 90s, she shared with me that she recited the 23rd Psalm when she woke up each morning, before each meal, and again at night before she fell asleep. She knew she didn't have long to live. Her son was far away; her husband had long since passed away. She alone lived in a large house graced by a stained glass window. She could no longer climb the stairs. Despair could have taken a foothold, but it did not. Over and over again, sometimes silently and sometimes out loud, she recited the 23rd Psalm to summon courage and revive her faith. It was she who first taught me that the hymns known as psalms are not texts for a day but texts for a lifetime. The psalm centered her life.
I think of friends in Lesotho who were kidnapped from their car after they pulled into their driveway, driven to a field, tied to trees and left for the night. They overheard their kidnappers saying, “What shall we do with them?” Deeply worried, they called on the 23rd Psalm while working to loosen the ropes, reciting it over and over. Finally they broke free and walked to a village, where they found help. When news of their kidnapping and escape circulated, hundreds of parishioners came to their home bearing gifts and prayers. They set the table, and then they celebrated life.
Reciting the verses of the 23rd Psalm in their time of danger brought my friends a measure of 'calm' which could not have been gained through other means.
Even though I walk through the
darkest valley, I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.
The next stanza eloquently and precisely conveys what happened when my friends returned home.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
For some the 23rd Psalm defines the work of God.
Not long ago Yadesa Daba, a colleague who previously led the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Ethiopia, gave morning devotions in the nursing home whose ministries we share. He spoke with residents who, despite their frail conditions, made sure they found a way to attend chapel.
Yadesa's text was the 23rd Psalm.
“When I was a child I herded the sheep. One day some baboons came and killed two of my lambs. And then they started to come after me. I was just a child. I ran home. When I told my mother and father what happened I cried because I had not protected my sheep.
“To be a shepherd you must protect your sheep, and you must provide for them. You must move them to better pastures when the grass is thin, and when it is dry you must move them towards water. That is what God does for us. God protects us and God provides for us. On our own we cannot always protect, and we cannot always provide – for ourselves or for those we are meant to watch over. But God does both. For me, that is what the 23rd Psalm is about.”
If we are to exegete the 23rd Psalm we need only to give a careful hearing to our own life stories.
The chances are that when you ask a parishioner about his or her touchstone verses, they will be grateful for the question. Not many people ask. Fewer still take the time to listen. But when we ask about meaningful verses and the coherence they provide, a holy conversation ensues. There are so many ways in which churches provide a wonderful place to frame and share our life stories.
And so . . . we read the psalm, thankful for new translations but perhaps still hearing the rhythms of “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” and grateful for a friend that continues to bless our lives.
Psalm 23
God is my shepherd, I shall not want.
God makes me lie down in green pastures;
and leads me beside still waters;
God restores my soul.
And leads me in right paths
for the sake of God's name.
Even though I walk through
the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy
shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of God
my whole life long.
This Sabbath, listen as life and text speak the same language. And how does it speak?
It reminds us that we are not alone.
Its search for coherence restores our souls.
It asks us to act—to lie down, to accept guidance as we walk a new path.
It asks us to summon the hope that sets aside fears.
And it ends in a blessing we share whenever we gather together and share our lives.
Thanks be to God for the word that centers our lives, and the stories it inspires.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Fourth Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 23
1 Peter 2:19-25
John 10:1-10
Life has a language.
And scripture has a word for us that emerges when we give it a chance.
This week, perhaps at a coffee shop, perhaps at a Bible study, or perhaps even in an extended moment in the passing of the peace, ask a simple question: “Is there a verse of scripture that carries special meaning for you?”
Life may seem chaotic at times, but throughout it all there is a verse or two that connect us with God, that revive hope, that help organize our actions, that center and bless our lives. Asking about the centering verse or verses is a prelude to a conversation about life. And more often than not, the chances are that many will say, “I go to the 23rd Psalm.”
This morning, as we begin devotions at a Day Care center for adults, I can't help but ask the question. It takes about two minutes to hear their answers. Sure enough, over half said, “The 23rd Psalm.”
“Why that one?” I asked.
“It puts me in touch with God the quickest,” one said. We noted that its honesty is reassuring. Our souls do indeed need restoring. We know that left to our own devices we might not lie down beside still waters, we are grateful that God makes us lie down. We know we need to be led in the paths of righteousness. And, most of all, we know you cannot go through life without traveling through some very dark valleys. The psalm does not say we should not be in such a place. Instead it affirms that when troubles arise, as they invariably do, we have no need to be afraid. It is a lively discussion, full of stories waiting to be told.
“Our text today, is the 23rd Psalm,” I said. They were pleased. We knew the morning would be full of stories that brought the psalm to life. We sensed the psalm would make sense of our lives, and our lives would make sense of the psalm.
I couldn't help but begin by telling them about Clara, one of my first parishioners. A frail woman in her mid 90s, she shared with me that she recited the 23rd Psalm when she woke up each morning, before each meal, and again at night before she fell asleep. She knew she didn't have long to live. Her son was far away; her husband had long since passed away. She alone lived in a large house graced by a stained glass window. She could no longer climb the stairs. Despair could have taken a foothold, but it did not. Over and over again, sometimes silently and sometimes out loud, she recited the 23rd Psalm to summon courage and revive her faith. It was she who first taught me that the hymns known as psalms are not texts for a day but texts for a lifetime. The psalm centered her life.
I think of friends in Lesotho who were kidnapped from their car after they pulled into their driveway, driven to a field, tied to trees and left for the night. They overheard their kidnappers saying, “What shall we do with them?” Deeply worried, they called on the 23rd Psalm while working to loosen the ropes, reciting it over and over. Finally they broke free and walked to a village, where they found help. When news of their kidnapping and escape circulated, hundreds of parishioners came to their home bearing gifts and prayers. They set the table, and then they celebrated life.
Reciting the verses of the 23rd Psalm in their time of danger brought my friends a measure of 'calm' which could not have been gained through other means.
Even though I walk through the
darkest valley, I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.
The next stanza eloquently and precisely conveys what happened when my friends returned home.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
For some the 23rd Psalm defines the work of God.
Not long ago Yadesa Daba, a colleague who previously led the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Ethiopia, gave morning devotions in the nursing home whose ministries we share. He spoke with residents who, despite their frail conditions, made sure they found a way to attend chapel.
Yadesa's text was the 23rd Psalm.
“When I was a child I herded the sheep. One day some baboons came and killed two of my lambs. And then they started to come after me. I was just a child. I ran home. When I told my mother and father what happened I cried because I had not protected my sheep.
“To be a shepherd you must protect your sheep, and you must provide for them. You must move them to better pastures when the grass is thin, and when it is dry you must move them towards water. That is what God does for us. God protects us and God provides for us. On our own we cannot always protect, and we cannot always provide – for ourselves or for those we are meant to watch over. But God does both. For me, that is what the 23rd Psalm is about.”
If we are to exegete the 23rd Psalm we need only to give a careful hearing to our own life stories.
The chances are that when you ask a parishioner about his or her touchstone verses, they will be grateful for the question. Not many people ask. Fewer still take the time to listen. But when we ask about meaningful verses and the coherence they provide, a holy conversation ensues. There are so many ways in which churches provide a wonderful place to frame and share our life stories.
And so . . . we read the psalm, thankful for new translations but perhaps still hearing the rhythms of “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” and grateful for a friend that continues to bless our lives.
God is my shepherd, I shall not want.
God makes me lie down in green pastures;
and leads me beside still waters;
God restores my soul.
And leads me in right paths
for the sake of God's name.
Even though I walk through
the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff—
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy
shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of God
my whole life long.
This Sabbath, listen as life and text speak the same language. And how does it speak?
It reminds us that we are not alone.
Its search for coherence restores our souls.
It asks us to act—to lie down, to accept guidance as we walk a new path.
It asks us to summon the hope that sets aside fears.
And it ends in a blessing we share whenever we gather together and share our lives.
Thanks be to God for the word that centers our lives, and the stories it inspires.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, April 6, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, April 6, 2008
Third Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:14a, 36-41
Psalm 116:1-4,12-19
1 Peter 1:17-23
Luke 24:13-35
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
The road leads from Jerusalem to Emmaus.
With the care of a historian who pays attention to detail, Luke tells us it is about a seven mile journey. But he does not tell us in which direction we are to walk. Whereas the exact location of Jerusalem has always mattered, the exact location of Emmaus is a mystery. There are many villages seven or so miles from Jerusalem, none of which are known as Emmaus. Its boundaries are uncertain. But its purpose is ever so clear. It is a place of recovery. The tumultuous events in Jerusalem had both dashed hopes and sowed the seeds of fear. What happened to Jesus might well happen to his followers, and so Cleopas and his friend headed for a place to regroup.
There are few Bible stories as user-friendly as Jesus' appearance on the way to Emmaus. Each step of the journey is familiar territory. Their path is one we have travelled many times. Whatever direction we take the destination is public worship and private discernment. It turns out that the Emmaus landscape is nothing less than the landscape of life itself.
What do we do when we encounter a traumatic event? We find a friend. And what do we do with the friend? We try to figure out what happened, and what our next steps should be. Life's events always prompt us to connect – to share, to talk, to find someone with whom we can make sense of those events.
It would be wonderful to write that every such connection restores hope, but such a thought would be far from the truth. It turns out that commiseration isn't the same thing as connection. Tell the same grim story, to the same friend, too many times and our eyes are closed. Despair has a way of doing that. And what happens when two of us cannot solve the problem? We bring a third person into the conversation. This person's viewpoints and teachings can't help but lend much-needed insight.
Sometimes hope's entrance is graceful, but more often than not it brings us up against our judgments. Cleopas and his friend are put off that the hidden Jesus does not know what happened in Jerusalem. And Jesus is a bit put off that Cleopas and his friend have not paid attention to scripture that could explain everything if seen in the right light. “Where have you been?” they both seem to say.
And so the conversation we will remember two thousand years later begins. The chaotic string of events that led to the crucifixion actually wasn't chaotic at all. It was meaningful, purposeful, useful. Besides which, the apparent ending wasn't an end at all. Life would indeed trump death. Suddenly the pieces of a chaotic puzzle fit into place, and their hearts are warmed as scripture suddenly makes sense. We know this, because we too have heard sermons that truly bring the text to life and put our doubts to rest.
In the Leading Causes of Life we have written about 'agency' as one of Life's causes. Agency is related to the simple observation that “things happen.” It is tempting to think that we are the authors of agency, that what we do is 'the most important thing'. But actually, sometimes it is the simple passage of time that moves us along. As they walked and talked the sun began to set, as it always did. They began to get hungry, as they always had at the end of day. It was time to find shelter, as human beings are wont to do. Cleopas and his friend had reservations, but the stranger did not. Night's advent forced a choice. Should Cleopas and his friend invite the stranger to spend the night with them? Should the stranger invite himself? Should he remain silent and wait for an invitation? What are the rules and the norms wrapped in the blessings of hospitality? The stranger would have been perfectly content to go his own way. But it would have meant breaking the connection that had been established along the way. Break a connection and you break the fabric of life itself.
“Stay with us,” they urge. Once inside, both connection and coherence make the voice of life plain and clear. The God who gives all we need is thanked, bread is blessed, bread is shared, and eyes are opened. Suddenly the stranger's identity is unmistakably clear. The stranger is not “anybody,” and the stranger is not “somebody.” The stranger has a name, the ultimate sign of coherence.
On the way to Emmaus we hear life speaking in many ways. It connects; it seeks order; it renews hope; it responds to a changing world; and it ends with a blessing. The pattern of events makes liturgical sense to us because we do it whenever we gather for worship. There too we connect with the God of life and with each other, we seek order through the telling of stories, we renew hope, we practice hospitality and we receive blessings.
The road to Emmaus is one we know well, and one we travel together whenever we worship. Let us turn to the story . . . listen carefully knowing that it describes each one of our lives. Where is Emmaus? It is wherever we go to make sense of life.
Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?" He asked them, "What things?" They replied, "The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him." Then he said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, "Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over." So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
For the most part we are somewhat content to let the story end with the revelation of the stranger's identity. We tend to overlook the fact that Cleopas and his friend, who once sought refuge from the trials and tribulations of life in Jerusalem, decided to return to the city from which they fled. They are no longer afraid. They have a story to tell. Offer hospitality and you never know who you might meet. And, just as beautifully, the breaking of bread is not confined to a singular historic memory . . . it happens over and over again as one day leads to the next.
Are we perplexed?
Find someone with whom we can walk and talk.
Is the two-way conversation restoring hope?
If not, invite a third party.
Order is waiting to be found.
Life is trying to speak and has been doing so in the written word since the beginning of time.
Thank God for Emmaus . . . whose exact geography is no more, and no less, than the landscape of our lives as congregations, as individuals, and as disciples of the living Christ.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Third Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:14a, 36-41
Psalm 116:1-4,12-19
1 Peter 1:17-23
Luke 24:13-35
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
The road leads from Jerusalem to Emmaus.
With the care of a historian who pays attention to detail, Luke tells us it is about a seven mile journey. But he does not tell us in which direction we are to walk. Whereas the exact location of Jerusalem has always mattered, the exact location of Emmaus is a mystery. There are many villages seven or so miles from Jerusalem, none of which are known as Emmaus. Its boundaries are uncertain. But its purpose is ever so clear. It is a place of recovery. The tumultuous events in Jerusalem had both dashed hopes and sowed the seeds of fear. What happened to Jesus might well happen to his followers, and so Cleopas and his friend headed for a place to regroup.
There are few Bible stories as user-friendly as Jesus' appearance on the way to Emmaus. Each step of the journey is familiar territory. Their path is one we have travelled many times. Whatever direction we take the destination is public worship and private discernment. It turns out that the Emmaus landscape is nothing less than the landscape of life itself.
What do we do when we encounter a traumatic event? We find a friend. And what do we do with the friend? We try to figure out what happened, and what our next steps should be. Life's events always prompt us to connect – to share, to talk, to find someone with whom we can make sense of those events.
It would be wonderful to write that every such connection restores hope, but such a thought would be far from the truth. It turns out that commiseration isn't the same thing as connection. Tell the same grim story, to the same friend, too many times and our eyes are closed. Despair has a way of doing that. And what happens when two of us cannot solve the problem? We bring a third person into the conversation. This person's viewpoints and teachings can't help but lend much-needed insight.
Sometimes hope's entrance is graceful, but more often than not it brings us up against our judgments. Cleopas and his friend are put off that the hidden Jesus does not know what happened in Jerusalem. And Jesus is a bit put off that Cleopas and his friend have not paid attention to scripture that could explain everything if seen in the right light. “Where have you been?” they both seem to say.
And so the conversation we will remember two thousand years later begins. The chaotic string of events that led to the crucifixion actually wasn't chaotic at all. It was meaningful, purposeful, useful. Besides which, the apparent ending wasn't an end at all. Life would indeed trump death. Suddenly the pieces of a chaotic puzzle fit into place, and their hearts are warmed as scripture suddenly makes sense. We know this, because we too have heard sermons that truly bring the text to life and put our doubts to rest.
In the Leading Causes of Life we have written about 'agency' as one of Life's causes. Agency is related to the simple observation that “things happen.” It is tempting to think that we are the authors of agency, that what we do is 'the most important thing'. But actually, sometimes it is the simple passage of time that moves us along. As they walked and talked the sun began to set, as it always did. They began to get hungry, as they always had at the end of day. It was time to find shelter, as human beings are wont to do. Cleopas and his friend had reservations, but the stranger did not. Night's advent forced a choice. Should Cleopas and his friend invite the stranger to spend the night with them? Should the stranger invite himself? Should he remain silent and wait for an invitation? What are the rules and the norms wrapped in the blessings of hospitality? The stranger would have been perfectly content to go his own way. But it would have meant breaking the connection that had been established along the way. Break a connection and you break the fabric of life itself.
“Stay with us,” they urge. Once inside, both connection and coherence make the voice of life plain and clear. The God who gives all we need is thanked, bread is blessed, bread is shared, and eyes are opened. Suddenly the stranger's identity is unmistakably clear. The stranger is not “anybody,” and the stranger is not “somebody.” The stranger has a name, the ultimate sign of coherence.
On the way to Emmaus we hear life speaking in many ways. It connects; it seeks order; it renews hope; it responds to a changing world; and it ends with a blessing. The pattern of events makes liturgical sense to us because we do it whenever we gather for worship. There too we connect with the God of life and with each other, we seek order through the telling of stories, we renew hope, we practice hospitality and we receive blessings.
The road to Emmaus is one we know well, and one we travel together whenever we worship. Let us turn to the story . . . listen carefully knowing that it describes each one of our lives. Where is Emmaus? It is wherever we go to make sense of life.
Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?" They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?" He asked them, "What things?" They replied, "The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him." Then he said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.
As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, "Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over." So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
For the most part we are somewhat content to let the story end with the revelation of the stranger's identity. We tend to overlook the fact that Cleopas and his friend, who once sought refuge from the trials and tribulations of life in Jerusalem, decided to return to the city from which they fled. They are no longer afraid. They have a story to tell. Offer hospitality and you never know who you might meet. And, just as beautifully, the breaking of bread is not confined to a singular historic memory . . . it happens over and over again as one day leads to the next.
Are we perplexed?
Find someone with whom we can walk and talk.
Is the two-way conversation restoring hope?
If not, invite a third party.
Order is waiting to be found.
Life is trying to speak and has been doing so in the written word since the beginning of time.
Thank God for Emmaus . . . whose exact geography is no more, and no less, than the landscape of our lives as congregations, as individuals, and as disciples of the living Christ.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, March 30, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, March 30, 2008
Second Sunday in Easter
Acts 2:14a, 22-32
Psalm 16
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
No matter what the Scripture, or what the season, when we turn to the Word we can't help but find life on all sides. We will find stories of connection, and with them the heart-breaking stories of disconnection. We will find stories of hope, and along side them stories of despair that tried, but then failed to claim the day. We will find the creation, and the recreation, of a new day that orders the chaos of night. We will learn how others responded to their call, and wonder how their experience might inform our own experience. At the end of the Bible study, and at the end of the sermon, we will inevitably count our blessings.
It is almost a cliché to say Scripture is a word of life. An exegetical approach to Scripture asks us to unpack the cliché. What does the word say? How is life speaking? How is the Word formative? To say there are many approaches to these problems would be an understatement. Are we using the tools of rhetorical criticism so beautifully honed by Phyllis Trible? Are we to lift the lens of history? Are we to take every word literally? Are we to delve into the depths of context? Yes, yes, and again yes.
As we bring the Leading Causes of Life to each week's Lectionary, our task is not to replace any one approach. Instead, the task is to nest them in the logic of life. When life speaks it connects, it organizes our thoughts, it demands change, it reminds us of hope and we take it all as a blessing.
This week's Gospel reading is a case in point.
The scene opens underscoring profound isolation. Disconnection has taken its toll.
One way or another the disciples had all disconnected from the man named Jesus. Judas disconnected once; Peter disconnected three times; the disciples fled into the night. Those who had not been afraid suddenly knew fear, and in that knowing they disconnected from the first words of so many angels, “Be not afraid.” In life it is astonishing how quickly fear finds friends. They may have gone their separate ways after Jesus' arrest, but they knew where to gather when they feared they might be the next ones on a cross. And so they locked the door, making sure nobody could enter their world. Had they decided to escape they would have found themselves surrounded not by light but by approaching night. In short nobody could come in . . . and there was no point in going out. They were isolated . . . disconnected . . . trapped by fear.
Their situation is not unknown to us. Over the past few years I have had the occasion to minister to and learn from many whose lives have been skewed by one insurance system or another. They have found themselves “resented” by the insurance company. How dare they make a request? They have sought employment only to find their gifts overshadowed by disabilities that present too great a risk. They have found themselves up against medical bills that are beyond the means of even the rich to pay. They have banded together to share their stories in hopes of finding a way to untangle the knots they did not create. In last night's news there was a story of Wal-Mart suing a family for over $400,000 in medical expenses their insurance company would rather not pay. The suit is legal. Fear always makes a legitimate claim. The disciples had good reason to be afraid. The question they faced as they met, and the question people living with disabilities face, is whether or not hope is sustainable and, if it is, what good can be done?
I dare say there is not a person in your congregation this week who is not acquainted with fear; who has not from time to time locked himself or herself in a room and wondered what the next day might bring. Sometimes disability locks the doors; sometimes finances lock them; sometimes injustice locks them; sometimes a relationship gone sour locks them. Whatever the cause, being “locked out” makes us realize we are “missing out” on life.
And so . . . what might God say?
With incredible poise, poignance, and grace, God finds a way to break right into the room. Those walls that look solid are actually porous. Wal-Mart made a decision but according to the news over a million people sent an e-mail saying, “This is wrong.” Remember the walls of Apartheid? They looked impermeable. But actually they were porous as life found a way to trump restrictive identity. The disciples huddle in fear . . . and then Jesus appears.
He has a word. “Peace be with you.” He then connects them with the Spirit; he speaks of his Father to link them with the divine family; he gives them a mission beyond the walls; and he asks them to engage in forgiveness—the fundamental work of connection. If we do not forgive we cannot connect—it is as simple as that. In like manner we can accept a word of peace or we can continue to live in the fearful waters of chaos. “Choose life,” God said to us through Moses. In the locked room of your legitimate fears choose life.
A famous Presbyterian pastor once began every Bible study with this question: Okay, where's the joy and where's the pain? In the ensuing discussion, sparked by the text, they shared the elusive and compelling gift of life. Picking up on his questions, a Leading Causes of Life exegetical approach reads the text and asks:
Where's the connection?
What's the meaning?
How is the text calling to you?
How can we name despair and claim hope?
And what's the blessing?
Ask those questions as you peruse the text that begins in fear, moves to connection and ends with a blessing for the ages.
John 20:19-31
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."
But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
Blessings to you and your congregation.
I look forward to hearing from you, and learning from you, as together we decipher the language of life as entrusted to us in texts that guide our lives.
Larry Pray
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
larrypray@gmail.com
Second Sunday in Easter
Acts 2:14a, 22-32
Psalm 16
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
No matter what the Scripture, or what the season, when we turn to the Word we can't help but find life on all sides. We will find stories of connection, and with them the heart-breaking stories of disconnection. We will find stories of hope, and along side them stories of despair that tried, but then failed to claim the day. We will find the creation, and the recreation, of a new day that orders the chaos of night. We will learn how others responded to their call, and wonder how their experience might inform our own experience. At the end of the Bible study, and at the end of the sermon, we will inevitably count our blessings.
It is almost a cliché to say Scripture is a word of life. An exegetical approach to Scripture asks us to unpack the cliché. What does the word say? How is life speaking? How is the Word formative? To say there are many approaches to these problems would be an understatement. Are we using the tools of rhetorical criticism so beautifully honed by Phyllis Trible? Are we to lift the lens of history? Are we to take every word literally? Are we to delve into the depths of context? Yes, yes, and again yes.
As we bring the Leading Causes of Life to each week's Lectionary, our task is not to replace any one approach. Instead, the task is to nest them in the logic of life. When life speaks it connects, it organizes our thoughts, it demands change, it reminds us of hope and we take it all as a blessing.
This week's Gospel reading is a case in point.
The scene opens underscoring profound isolation. Disconnection has taken its toll.
One way or another the disciples had all disconnected from the man named Jesus. Judas disconnected once; Peter disconnected three times; the disciples fled into the night. Those who had not been afraid suddenly knew fear, and in that knowing they disconnected from the first words of so many angels, “Be not afraid.” In life it is astonishing how quickly fear finds friends. They may have gone their separate ways after Jesus' arrest, but they knew where to gather when they feared they might be the next ones on a cross. And so they locked the door, making sure nobody could enter their world. Had they decided to escape they would have found themselves surrounded not by light but by approaching night. In short nobody could come in . . . and there was no point in going out. They were isolated . . . disconnected . . . trapped by fear.
Their situation is not unknown to us. Over the past few years I have had the occasion to minister to and learn from many whose lives have been skewed by one insurance system or another. They have found themselves “resented” by the insurance company. How dare they make a request? They have sought employment only to find their gifts overshadowed by disabilities that present too great a risk. They have found themselves up against medical bills that are beyond the means of even the rich to pay. They have banded together to share their stories in hopes of finding a way to untangle the knots they did not create. In last night's news there was a story of Wal-Mart suing a family for over $400,000 in medical expenses their insurance company would rather not pay. The suit is legal. Fear always makes a legitimate claim. The disciples had good reason to be afraid. The question they faced as they met, and the question people living with disabilities face, is whether or not hope is sustainable and, if it is, what good can be done?
I dare say there is not a person in your congregation this week who is not acquainted with fear; who has not from time to time locked himself or herself in a room and wondered what the next day might bring. Sometimes disability locks the doors; sometimes finances lock them; sometimes injustice locks them; sometimes a relationship gone sour locks them. Whatever the cause, being “locked out” makes us realize we are “missing out” on life.
And so . . . what might God say?
With incredible poise, poignance, and grace, God finds a way to break right into the room. Those walls that look solid are actually porous. Wal-Mart made a decision but according to the news over a million people sent an e-mail saying, “This is wrong.” Remember the walls of Apartheid? They looked impermeable. But actually they were porous as life found a way to trump restrictive identity. The disciples huddle in fear . . . and then Jesus appears.
He has a word. “Peace be with you.” He then connects them with the Spirit; he speaks of his Father to link them with the divine family; he gives them a mission beyond the walls; and he asks them to engage in forgiveness—the fundamental work of connection. If we do not forgive we cannot connect—it is as simple as that. In like manner we can accept a word of peace or we can continue to live in the fearful waters of chaos. “Choose life,” God said to us through Moses. In the locked room of your legitimate fears choose life.
A famous Presbyterian pastor once began every Bible study with this question: Okay, where's the joy and where's the pain? In the ensuing discussion, sparked by the text, they shared the elusive and compelling gift of life. Picking up on his questions, a Leading Causes of Life exegetical approach reads the text and asks:
Where's the connection?
What's the meaning?
How is the text calling to you?
How can we name despair and claim hope?
And what's the blessing?
Ask those questions as you peruse the text that begins in fear, moves to connection and ends with a blessing for the ages.
John 20:19-31
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."
But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
Blessings to you and your congregation.
I look forward to hearing from you, and learning from you, as together we decipher the language of life as entrusted to us in texts that guide our lives.
Larry Pray
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
larrypray@gmail.com
Monday, March 24, 2008
Thoughts and Prayers for the Week of March 24, 2008
by Butch Odom
Thought & Prayer for Monday, March 24, 2008
Welcome to the season of Easter, where we will remain until May. Easter is the most important time in the Christian year, but it is also the most mysterious. Since death has been overcome, since death has lost its sting, let’s consider embracing life and spend this week contemplating the Leading Causes of LifeTM, by Gary Gunderson with Larry Pray.
The lectionary passages for this week are numerous, and include: Jeremiah 31:1-6; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Colossians 3:1-4; Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-18 and Matthew 28:1-10.
From John 20:1-2 – Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus’ loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they laid him.”
Leading Cause #1 - CONNECTION: As human beings we depend on our connectedness to family, friends and even coworkers. Imagine the sense of loss Jesus’ followers felt after the crucifixion. Now Mary finds the tomb empty, making her think initially that the final connection to Jesus, his grave, has been severed. Think of the significant connections in your life. Wouldn’t you agree that those connections are life-giving?
Prayer:
Creator God, you made us a people who thrive in healthy communities. Help us heal the disconnections in our lives so that we might live more fully. AMEN.
Thought & Prayer for Tuesday, March 25, 2008
From Acts 10:34-36 – Then Peter began to speak to them: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him. You know the message he sent the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ-he is Lord of all.”
Leading Cause #2 – COHERENCE: We strive for lives that have a sense of meaning and purpose. Imagine the coherence the disciples felt through their work with Jesus. Now imagine how that life-giving meaning was upset when Jesus was killed as a common criminal. Today, consider those people, those connections and those beliefs which bring the most meaning into your life.
Prayer:
Faithful God, for those people, those institutions, for all that brings rich, life-giving meaning into our lives, we thank you. AMEN.
Thought & Prayer for Wednesday, March 26, 2008
From Acts 10:36-38 – [Peter is still speaking.] “You know the message [God] sent the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ-he is Lord of all. That message spread throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John announced: how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.”
Leading Cause #3 – AGENCY: “Just Do It” was the slogan of or the name of an organization that encouraged young people to do good…to act…to do something for the greater good that was within their power or skill set, even of something simple like planting a tree or picking up trash. Agency entails this ability to get things done. Can you begin to see how these Leading Causes of LifeTM tie together? The greater the sense of connection in our lives and the more coherence we feel, then the greater our ability to act effectively. Also, the more we act, the more meaning we could add to our lives and the more opportunities for connection we could have.
Prayer:
Gracious God, it is easy for us to think globally. Give us strength to ACT locally. AMEN.
Thought & Prayer for Thursday, March 27, 2008
From Psalm 118:1-2 – O give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his steadfast love endures forever! Let Israel say, “His steadfast love endures forever.”
Leading Cause #4 – BLESSING: “How are you doing today?” I asked Janice. “Fine and blessed,” was her reply. We give blessings to each other and we receive blessings from others. But blessing also occurs through the ages as we connect with our parents and their parents on through the years and with our children and our children’s children. Through blessing, we are connected to forever.
Prayer:
Steadfast God of the beginning, middle and end of time, stand by us in our now. Help us be a blessing to those around us, and may we be blessed today. AMEN.
Thought & Prayer for Friday, March 28, 2008
From Psalm 118:24 – This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
And from Matthew 28:5-8 – But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.”
Leading Cause #5 – HOPE: The final of the Leading Causes of LifeTM is real, grounded hope. Such hope comes from the interaction of all the other causes discussed previously this week. How does one have hope in the midst of deep despair, for instance, if their life is not connection and coherence-filled? If one feels powerless to act and has no sense of blessing how can they experience hope? Today, take a moment to embrace that for which you hope most.
Prayer:
Steadfast God of hope, even in our despair, we know you are by our side. Help us be better instillers of hope in those around us. AMEN.
Thought & Prayer for Monday, March 24, 2008
Welcome to the season of Easter, where we will remain until May. Easter is the most important time in the Christian year, but it is also the most mysterious. Since death has been overcome, since death has lost its sting, let’s consider embracing life and spend this week contemplating the Leading Causes of LifeTM, by Gary Gunderson with Larry Pray.
The lectionary passages for this week are numerous, and include: Jeremiah 31:1-6; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Colossians 3:1-4; Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-18 and Matthew 28:1-10.
From John 20:1-2 – Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus’ loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they laid him.”
Leading Cause #1 - CONNECTION: As human beings we depend on our connectedness to family, friends and even coworkers. Imagine the sense of loss Jesus’ followers felt after the crucifixion. Now Mary finds the tomb empty, making her think initially that the final connection to Jesus, his grave, has been severed. Think of the significant connections in your life. Wouldn’t you agree that those connections are life-giving?
Prayer:
Creator God, you made us a people who thrive in healthy communities. Help us heal the disconnections in our lives so that we might live more fully. AMEN.
Thought & Prayer for Tuesday, March 25, 2008
From Acts 10:34-36 – Then Peter began to speak to them: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him. You know the message he sent the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ-he is Lord of all.”
Leading Cause #2 – COHERENCE: We strive for lives that have a sense of meaning and purpose. Imagine the coherence the disciples felt through their work with Jesus. Now imagine how that life-giving meaning was upset when Jesus was killed as a common criminal. Today, consider those people, those connections and those beliefs which bring the most meaning into your life.
Prayer:
Faithful God, for those people, those institutions, for all that brings rich, life-giving meaning into our lives, we thank you. AMEN.
Thought & Prayer for Wednesday, March 26, 2008
From Acts 10:36-38 – [Peter is still speaking.] “You know the message [God] sent the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ-he is Lord of all. That message spread throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John announced: how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.”
Leading Cause #3 – AGENCY: “Just Do It” was the slogan of or the name of an organization that encouraged young people to do good…to act…to do something for the greater good that was within their power or skill set, even of something simple like planting a tree or picking up trash. Agency entails this ability to get things done. Can you begin to see how these Leading Causes of LifeTM tie together? The greater the sense of connection in our lives and the more coherence we feel, then the greater our ability to act effectively. Also, the more we act, the more meaning we could add to our lives and the more opportunities for connection we could have.
Prayer:
Gracious God, it is easy for us to think globally. Give us strength to ACT locally. AMEN.
Thought & Prayer for Thursday, March 27, 2008
From Psalm 118:1-2 – O give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his steadfast love endures forever! Let Israel say, “His steadfast love endures forever.”
Leading Cause #4 – BLESSING: “How are you doing today?” I asked Janice. “Fine and blessed,” was her reply. We give blessings to each other and we receive blessings from others. But blessing also occurs through the ages as we connect with our parents and their parents on through the years and with our children and our children’s children. Through blessing, we are connected to forever.
Prayer:
Steadfast God of the beginning, middle and end of time, stand by us in our now. Help us be a blessing to those around us, and may we be blessed today. AMEN.
Thought & Prayer for Friday, March 28, 2008
From Psalm 118:24 – This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
And from Matthew 28:5-8 – But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.”
Leading Cause #5 – HOPE: The final of the Leading Causes of LifeTM is real, grounded hope. Such hope comes from the interaction of all the other causes discussed previously this week. How does one have hope in the midst of deep despair, for instance, if their life is not connection and coherence-filled? If one feels powerless to act and has no sense of blessing how can they experience hope? Today, take a moment to embrace that for which you hope most.
Prayer:
Steadfast God of hope, even in our despair, we know you are by our side. Help us be better instillers of hope in those around us. AMEN.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, March 2, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, March 2, 2008
Fourth Sunday in Lent
1 Samuel 16:1-13
Psalm 23
Ephesians 5:8-14
John 9:1-41
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
Let us then connect with God's word;
Let us find what order it brings to our lives;
Let us heed our call that asks us to step forth;
Let us listen to the voice of hope;
And let us both share and receive the blessings of life.
This Sunday we are in a story teller's paradise. We can practically see the line of Jesse's sons standing in a line, waiting to see which one would be anointed as Saul's successor. We love it when the one who wasn't even standing in line, the youngest, the weakest, the least probable son is chosen for reasons indiscernible to the human eye. Just as Jesus would one day say, “the last shall be first and the first shall be last.” It is a thrilling story that asks us to look beyond the expected to learn just how it is that God perceives life.
We are told the very same story in the Gospel of John. Last week we had that long, beautiful reading about a woman at the well who could never have expected that she would find living water in a conversation with this man named Jesus. This week we have another extraordinarily beautiful story about a man born blind.
As Jesus and the disciples pass by the man the disciples wonder to whom blame should be assigned. Had the man sinned even when he was an infant? Or were his parents at faualt? Surely there was a cause for his blindness, and surely blame could be assigned. Their question dovetails Eliphaz's understanding of Job's affliction: God does not punish the righteous. At the end of Job God makes it clear that such an assumption does not reflect the way the God of life works. Jesus makes the same point. With consummate insight Jesus answers both questions with a single word. “Neither,” he says. He pushes blame off the table and opens up an entirely new question world of perception. Blame and shame have the power to disconnect us from both ourselves and each other. Instead of enhancing life they block it.
At this point I am tempted to exegete the story using the five lenses of our Leading Causes of Life. We see connection with a man whose life was a “problem.” We see the battle for coherence as the Pharisees wonder who Jesus was and tried to draw boundaries to help them define and understand his extravagant gift of healing. We see hope fulfilled as the man proclaims his vision, we see that he actually did what he was asked to when told to go to the pool of Siloam. And we see the world of blessing at work as one man's experience produces a story from which we draw meaning in our own lives.
But on this day I would like to travel down another path.
Not long ago I received a report about the impact of healthcare costs on church insurance programs. An aging clergy encounters healthcare crises that insurance programs do not have the resources to handle. Small congregations can scarcely pay $12,000 or more a year to cover their clergy, and even if they do the pool is just too small to cover the costs of diabetes, heart disease, cancers, MRIs, CAT scans and the rest. Clergy tend to be an unhealthy group. Our levels of stress are high; our weight is often more than ideal; our self-care is minimal; and our expectation of being cared for is high. The report noted that the active clergy portion of the healthcare plan was in a “death spiral.” Denominations are both cutting back on what insurance provides and doing all they can to make preventative care a priority. At a recent Methodist conference in Mississippi clergy used the break times to walk with a vengeance on a track that surrounded the sanctuary. It was a group effort born of legitimate need but without a hint of shame. Not surprisingly, between breaks we took time to share our stories just as the man born blind shared his story two or three times in the Lectionary text.
If the disciples walked by healthcare system is in a death spiral, what might they have asked Jesus? Is it the system's fault? Is it the clergy's fault? Who is to blame for the death we cannot ignore? And what might Jesus' answer be? If the Lectionary gives us a leading, we can assume his word would not be one of blame of shame.
I write this with a certain ambiguity in my own heart. Fifty-two years ago, my immune system failed me and diabetes walked in the door and decided to stay. It is a costly disease. Thirty years later, and four days after my ordination, I lived through my first heart attack. Thirteen years later a second came along despite a regiment of exercise, healthy diet, medications meant to forestall the impending crises. The costs of keeping me alive have been significant. Indeed, they have been a drain. By all rights, the denomination should have said, “We simply cannot afford to have Type 1 diabetics serve as pastors. There is no way we can keep up with it.” My response is, “I'm sorry. My condition has nothing to do with choices I made or failed to make, but I am so sorry my life has been so costly and that there is no simple way to stem the costs that are part and parcel of diabetes.”
Which is to say . . . I assume the blame for something I did not chose. How would Jesus reframe the discussion? He found a purpose for the man's blindness. “He was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him,” Jesus said.
It is an imaginative flight but curiosity can't help but wonder . . .
“This church is struggling with healthcare costs so that God's works might be revealed in it.” Or, might it be, “This insurance company is struggling with costs so that God's works might be revealed in it as well?” Or, “This woman has epilepsy so that God's works might be revealed in her.”
And just how might that happen?
One thing we know is that it happens through the telling of stories. I imagine a small church in Pennsylvania or Tennessee celebrating the return of a member after heart surgery. What happened? What have you learned? What is life teaching you, would you share it with us? Where is God in your healing? How has Scripture come true?
I know of a small church in Montana in which a member was told she needed heart surgery. She decided to not undergo the procedure. The family had already faced medical bankruptcy once; she was not going to bring her family to the brink another time. The congregation, and the town, decided to “do something.” First thing you know there was a rummage sale and $5,000 was given to the woman to banish the shame and worry that had taken hold in her life. Later on, when she saw her doctor it was decided she didn't need the operation after all. Some may attribute this to a miracle cure; others to unseen strength that makes itself known when shame worry have been pushed off the table. Either way, her story took root in the church, the church took root in the town, and hymns of thanks found their way heaven-bound.
We have the opportunity to claim healing as a common ground. We have the opportunity to learn from Jesus who turned his attention to the works of God who sees not from the outside but from the inside.
It is a necessary conversation if we are life in the light of Jesus' closing words: “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.”
John 9:1-41
As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?' Jesus answered, 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.' When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man's eyes, saying to him, 'Go, wash in the pool of Siloam' (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, 'Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?' Some were saying, 'It is he.' Others were saying, 'No, but it is someone like him.' He kept saying, 'I am the man.' But they kept asking him, 'Then how were your eyes opened?' He answered, 'The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, "Go to Siloam and wash." Then I went and washed and received my sight.' They said to him, 'Where is he?' He said, 'I do not know.'
They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a Sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, 'He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.' Some of the Pharisees said, 'This man is not from God, for he does not observe the Sabbath.' But others said, 'How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?' And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, 'What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.' He said, 'He is a prophet.'
The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, 'Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?' His parents answered, 'We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.' His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, 'He is of age; ask him.'
So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, 'Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.' He answered, 'I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.' They said to him, 'What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?' He answered them, 'I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?' Then they reviled him, saying, 'You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.' The man answered, 'Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.' They answered him, 'You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?' And they drove him out.
Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, ‘Do you believe in the Son of Man?’ He answered, ‘And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.’ Jesus said to him, ‘You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.’ He said, ‘Lord, I believe.’ And he worshipped him. Jesus said, ‘I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.’ Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, ‘Surely we are not blind, are we?’ Jesus said to them, ‘If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see”, your sin remains.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Fourth Sunday in Lent
1 Samuel 16:1-13
Psalm 23
Ephesians 5:8-14
John 9:1-41
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
Let us then connect with God's word;
Let us find what order it brings to our lives;
Let us heed our call that asks us to step forth;
Let us listen to the voice of hope;
And let us both share and receive the blessings of life.
This Sunday we are in a story teller's paradise. We can practically see the line of Jesse's sons standing in a line, waiting to see which one would be anointed as Saul's successor. We love it when the one who wasn't even standing in line, the youngest, the weakest, the least probable son is chosen for reasons indiscernible to the human eye. Just as Jesus would one day say, “the last shall be first and the first shall be last.” It is a thrilling story that asks us to look beyond the expected to learn just how it is that God perceives life.
We are told the very same story in the Gospel of John. Last week we had that long, beautiful reading about a woman at the well who could never have expected that she would find living water in a conversation with this man named Jesus. This week we have another extraordinarily beautiful story about a man born blind.
As Jesus and the disciples pass by the man the disciples wonder to whom blame should be assigned. Had the man sinned even when he was an infant? Or were his parents at faualt? Surely there was a cause for his blindness, and surely blame could be assigned. Their question dovetails Eliphaz's understanding of Job's affliction: God does not punish the righteous. At the end of Job God makes it clear that such an assumption does not reflect the way the God of life works. Jesus makes the same point. With consummate insight Jesus answers both questions with a single word. “Neither,” he says. He pushes blame off the table and opens up an entirely new question world of perception. Blame and shame have the power to disconnect us from both ourselves and each other. Instead of enhancing life they block it.
At this point I am tempted to exegete the story using the five lenses of our Leading Causes of Life. We see connection with a man whose life was a “problem.” We see the battle for coherence as the Pharisees wonder who Jesus was and tried to draw boundaries to help them define and understand his extravagant gift of healing. We see hope fulfilled as the man proclaims his vision, we see that he actually did what he was asked to when told to go to the pool of Siloam. And we see the world of blessing at work as one man's experience produces a story from which we draw meaning in our own lives.
But on this day I would like to travel down another path.
Not long ago I received a report about the impact of healthcare costs on church insurance programs. An aging clergy encounters healthcare crises that insurance programs do not have the resources to handle. Small congregations can scarcely pay $12,000 or more a year to cover their clergy, and even if they do the pool is just too small to cover the costs of diabetes, heart disease, cancers, MRIs, CAT scans and the rest. Clergy tend to be an unhealthy group. Our levels of stress are high; our weight is often more than ideal; our self-care is minimal; and our expectation of being cared for is high. The report noted that the active clergy portion of the healthcare plan was in a “death spiral.” Denominations are both cutting back on what insurance provides and doing all they can to make preventative care a priority. At a recent Methodist conference in Mississippi clergy used the break times to walk with a vengeance on a track that surrounded the sanctuary. It was a group effort born of legitimate need but without a hint of shame. Not surprisingly, between breaks we took time to share our stories just as the man born blind shared his story two or three times in the Lectionary text.
If the disciples walked by healthcare system is in a death spiral, what might they have asked Jesus? Is it the system's fault? Is it the clergy's fault? Who is to blame for the death we cannot ignore? And what might Jesus' answer be? If the Lectionary gives us a leading, we can assume his word would not be one of blame of shame.
I write this with a certain ambiguity in my own heart. Fifty-two years ago, my immune system failed me and diabetes walked in the door and decided to stay. It is a costly disease. Thirty years later, and four days after my ordination, I lived through my first heart attack. Thirteen years later a second came along despite a regiment of exercise, healthy diet, medications meant to forestall the impending crises. The costs of keeping me alive have been significant. Indeed, they have been a drain. By all rights, the denomination should have said, “We simply cannot afford to have Type 1 diabetics serve as pastors. There is no way we can keep up with it.” My response is, “I'm sorry. My condition has nothing to do with choices I made or failed to make, but I am so sorry my life has been so costly and that there is no simple way to stem the costs that are part and parcel of diabetes.”
Which is to say . . . I assume the blame for something I did not chose. How would Jesus reframe the discussion? He found a purpose for the man's blindness. “He was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him,” Jesus said.
It is an imaginative flight but curiosity can't help but wonder . . .
“This church is struggling with healthcare costs so that God's works might be revealed in it.” Or, might it be, “This insurance company is struggling with costs so that God's works might be revealed in it as well?” Or, “This woman has epilepsy so that God's works might be revealed in her.”
And just how might that happen?
One thing we know is that it happens through the telling of stories. I imagine a small church in Pennsylvania or Tennessee celebrating the return of a member after heart surgery. What happened? What have you learned? What is life teaching you, would you share it with us? Where is God in your healing? How has Scripture come true?
I know of a small church in Montana in which a member was told she needed heart surgery. She decided to not undergo the procedure. The family had already faced medical bankruptcy once; she was not going to bring her family to the brink another time. The congregation, and the town, decided to “do something.” First thing you know there was a rummage sale and $5,000 was given to the woman to banish the shame and worry that had taken hold in her life. Later on, when she saw her doctor it was decided she didn't need the operation after all. Some may attribute this to a miracle cure; others to unseen strength that makes itself known when shame worry have been pushed off the table. Either way, her story took root in the church, the church took root in the town, and hymns of thanks found their way heaven-bound.
We have the opportunity to claim healing as a common ground. We have the opportunity to learn from Jesus who turned his attention to the works of God who sees not from the outside but from the inside.
It is a necessary conversation if we are life in the light of Jesus' closing words: “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.”
John 9:1-41
As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, 'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?' Jesus answered, 'Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.' When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man's eyes, saying to him, 'Go, wash in the pool of Siloam' (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, 'Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?' Some were saying, 'It is he.' Others were saying, 'No, but it is someone like him.' He kept saying, 'I am the man.' But they kept asking him, 'Then how were your eyes opened?' He answered, 'The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, "Go to Siloam and wash." Then I went and washed and received my sight.' They said to him, 'Where is he?' He said, 'I do not know.'
They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a Sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, 'He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.' Some of the Pharisees said, 'This man is not from God, for he does not observe the Sabbath.' But others said, 'How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?' And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, 'What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.' He said, 'He is a prophet.'
The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, 'Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?' His parents answered, 'We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.' His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, 'He is of age; ask him.'
So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, 'Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.' He answered, 'I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.' They said to him, 'What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?' He answered them, 'I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?' Then they reviled him, saying, 'You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.' The man answered, 'Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.' They answered him, 'You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?' And they drove him out.
Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, ‘Do you believe in the Son of Man?’ He answered, ‘And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.’ Jesus said to him, ‘You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.’ He said, ‘Lord, I believe.’ And he worshipped him. Jesus said, ‘I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.’ Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, ‘Surely we are not blind, are we?’ Jesus said to them, ‘If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see”, your sin remains.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Friday, February 22, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, February 24, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, February 24, 2008
Third Sunday in Lent
Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 95
Romans 5:1-11
John 4:5-42
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
These two thoughts frame our LCL Lectionary reflections. We have been given a Word of life that connects us with God and each other, a Word that has the power to order chaos, a Word that calls us to action, a Word that carries us in hope and a Word that we receive as a blessing.
The Gospel reading for this third Sunday of Lent is one of the longer readings in the Lectionary cycle. Many of us may be tempted to read just part of the 37 verses, knowing that although the story is dramatic it is not easy to keep the attention of a congregation during such a long reading. Indeed if we do so, we will still be left with a string of remarkable insights, each one of which would inspire a meaningful sermon. For example:
There is a sermon that asks us to speak with people we do not know and people we have been taught to avoid. If Jesus dares cross cultural, social and theological boundaries, should we not follow suit?
There is a sermon about thirst. For what do we thirst? How many times do we keep returning to the same well only to find out we must return yet again a few hours later? What are the waters that leave us thirsty?
There is a sermon about worship. Have we confused place with Spirit? Have we tried to own God by saying God is mostly present “here,” and then discovering that the “here” just happens to be a place we own?
There is a sermon about hospitality as an estranged people invite Jesus to stay with them and he accepts their offer.
There is a sermon about ministry moving from a private conversation into a public space as the woman goes and tells all her neighbors what she has heard. Have we privatized worship at the expense of public space?
There is a sermon about ministry as a collective effort as we, like the disciples, join the efforts of others who have labored.
There is a sermon about identity . . . if Jesus says, “I am he,” who do we say we are? It is essential that Jesus say who he is, just as it is essential for us to reveal our true calling.
And there is a remarkable sermon about history. I am indebted to the Rev. Ted Erickson for pointing out in his sermon for this Sunday that Jesus' noting that the woman's five husbands, and the man she is currently with, tells not the story of an individual but the story of Samaria. Her five husbands were Babylon, Assyria, Persia, Greece, and Judea. The man she is currently with is Rome. There has been nothing stable in her life, or in the life of her people for some 700 years.
If that weren't enough, it turns out that, unlike the Jews, the Samaritans held only five books of the Bible - Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy - to be sacred. The fact that she has gone beyond them to find another source of spiritual support is another indication that truly there has been nothing stable in her life. She would like to be homeward bound, but there have been so many homes one comes close to losing hope.
We realize that Jesus is not talking just to a woman. In our lives, how many churches have we been to; how many jobs have occupied out time and imagination; how many new interpretations have we relied on to give us a sense of direction? He is, as always, talking to us as well, asking us to recognize and love the remarkable boundary between water and living water, between food and food of the soul. Which is to say we have been given a story brings order to chaos. It is all about finding coherence that has the power to transcend the flow of history.
One of the most beautiful aspects to the Gospel of John is that he takes time to unpack the stories he tells. In Mark we are virtually left breathless as Jesus immediately leaves one place and immediately arrives in another where something immediately happens. There is no time to spare. But John takes time to let the story unfold. The word “water” will not work unless we differentiate the difference between life giving water and living water. The word 'worship” will not suffice unless practice is framed in spirit and truth. The word “messiah” will not work until it is given a name. John takes his time to tell the story.
Recently I was in a small circle of people and we were asked to tell our stories. We were given 20 minutes. It was, one might say, a “Mark” format. I left the circle feeling a bit empty, as though I had perhaps betrayed the stories that resisted being timed. I wanted to share them, and their actors, with more care. You have noticed that the conversations you have as a pastor with people before church are quite different from the conversations you have with them when the service draws to an end. Before church there is an openness, a signaling of what is important that is then surrendered to worship. We go into worship with a story that frames and reframes itself in prayer, in the singing of hymns, in scripture, in the windows, in the sacraments. After church time resumes its normal curtailing function.
I've wondered if perhaps a message from the long readings is that we must recognize it takes time to hear each other's stories. The person in the third pew, how do they hear “water?” The usher, what are the chapters of his life? It is not a story to be immediately told. It will take a full 37 verses.
Listen then . . . to a story it takes time to tell and a lifetime to live.
John 4:5-42
So Jesus came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob's well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.
A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, 'Give me a drink'. (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, 'How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?' (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, 'If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, "Give me a drink", you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.' The woman said to him, 'Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?' Jesus said to her, 'Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.' The woman said to him, 'Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.'
Jesus said to her, 'Go, call your husband, and come back.' The woman answered him, 'I have no husband.' Jesus said to her, 'You are right in saying, "I have no husband"; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!' The woman said to him, 'Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.' Jesus said to her, 'Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.' The woman said to him, 'I know that Messiah is coming' (who is called Christ). 'When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.' Jesus said to her, 'I am he, the one who is speaking to you.'
Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, 'What do you want?' or, 'Why are you speaking with her?' Then the woman left her water-jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, 'Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?' They left the city and were on their way to him.
Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, 'Rabbi, eat something.' But he said to them, 'I have food to eat that you do not know about.' So the disciples said to one another, 'Surely no one has brought him something to eat?' Jesus said to them, 'My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. Do you not say, "Four months more, then comes the harvest"? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, "One sows and another reaps." I sent you to reap that for which you did not labour. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labour.'
Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I have ever done.’ So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there for two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Saviour of the world.’
The next morning, the Samaritan women went once again to the well. She heard the bucket splash in the pool at the bottom of Jacob's well. She drew the water up, thankful it was there and knowing her thirst for life had been slaked by different kind of water drawn from a well that said, “I am he.”
And so let's take the long story to heart and take time to tell the stories Paul so beautifully writes about in this week's Epistle.
Romans 5:1-11
Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Third Sunday in Lent
Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 95
Romans 5:1-11
John 4:5-42
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
These two thoughts frame our LCL Lectionary reflections. We have been given a Word of life that connects us with God and each other, a Word that has the power to order chaos, a Word that calls us to action, a Word that carries us in hope and a Word that we receive as a blessing.
The Gospel reading for this third Sunday of Lent is one of the longer readings in the Lectionary cycle. Many of us may be tempted to read just part of the 37 verses, knowing that although the story is dramatic it is not easy to keep the attention of a congregation during such a long reading. Indeed if we do so, we will still be left with a string of remarkable insights, each one of which would inspire a meaningful sermon. For example:
There is a sermon that asks us to speak with people we do not know and people we have been taught to avoid. If Jesus dares cross cultural, social and theological boundaries, should we not follow suit?
There is a sermon about thirst. For what do we thirst? How many times do we keep returning to the same well only to find out we must return yet again a few hours later? What are the waters that leave us thirsty?
There is a sermon about worship. Have we confused place with Spirit? Have we tried to own God by saying God is mostly present “here,” and then discovering that the “here” just happens to be a place we own?
There is a sermon about hospitality as an estranged people invite Jesus to stay with them and he accepts their offer.
There is a sermon about ministry moving from a private conversation into a public space as the woman goes and tells all her neighbors what she has heard. Have we privatized worship at the expense of public space?
There is a sermon about ministry as a collective effort as we, like the disciples, join the efforts of others who have labored.
There is a sermon about identity . . . if Jesus says, “I am he,” who do we say we are? It is essential that Jesus say who he is, just as it is essential for us to reveal our true calling.
And there is a remarkable sermon about history. I am indebted to the Rev. Ted Erickson for pointing out in his sermon for this Sunday that Jesus' noting that the woman's five husbands, and the man she is currently with, tells not the story of an individual but the story of Samaria. Her five husbands were Babylon, Assyria, Persia, Greece, and Judea. The man she is currently with is Rome. There has been nothing stable in her life, or in the life of her people for some 700 years.
If that weren't enough, it turns out that, unlike the Jews, the Samaritans held only five books of the Bible - Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy - to be sacred. The fact that she has gone beyond them to find another source of spiritual support is another indication that truly there has been nothing stable in her life. She would like to be homeward bound, but there have been so many homes one comes close to losing hope.
We realize that Jesus is not talking just to a woman. In our lives, how many churches have we been to; how many jobs have occupied out time and imagination; how many new interpretations have we relied on to give us a sense of direction? He is, as always, talking to us as well, asking us to recognize and love the remarkable boundary between water and living water, between food and food of the soul. Which is to say we have been given a story brings order to chaos. It is all about finding coherence that has the power to transcend the flow of history.
One of the most beautiful aspects to the Gospel of John is that he takes time to unpack the stories he tells. In Mark we are virtually left breathless as Jesus immediately leaves one place and immediately arrives in another where something immediately happens. There is no time to spare. But John takes time to let the story unfold. The word “water” will not work unless we differentiate the difference between life giving water and living water. The word 'worship” will not suffice unless practice is framed in spirit and truth. The word “messiah” will not work until it is given a name. John takes his time to tell the story.
Recently I was in a small circle of people and we were asked to tell our stories. We were given 20 minutes. It was, one might say, a “Mark” format. I left the circle feeling a bit empty, as though I had perhaps betrayed the stories that resisted being timed. I wanted to share them, and their actors, with more care. You have noticed that the conversations you have as a pastor with people before church are quite different from the conversations you have with them when the service draws to an end. Before church there is an openness, a signaling of what is important that is then surrendered to worship. We go into worship with a story that frames and reframes itself in prayer, in the singing of hymns, in scripture, in the windows, in the sacraments. After church time resumes its normal curtailing function.
I've wondered if perhaps a message from the long readings is that we must recognize it takes time to hear each other's stories. The person in the third pew, how do they hear “water?” The usher, what are the chapters of his life? It is not a story to be immediately told. It will take a full 37 verses.
Listen then . . . to a story it takes time to tell and a lifetime to live.
John 4:5-42
So Jesus came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob's well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.
A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, 'Give me a drink'. (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, 'How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?' (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, 'If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, "Give me a drink", you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.' The woman said to him, 'Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?' Jesus said to her, 'Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.' The woman said to him, 'Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.'
Jesus said to her, 'Go, call your husband, and come back.' The woman answered him, 'I have no husband.' Jesus said to her, 'You are right in saying, "I have no husband"; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!' The woman said to him, 'Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.' Jesus said to her, 'Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.' The woman said to him, 'I know that Messiah is coming' (who is called Christ). 'When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.' Jesus said to her, 'I am he, the one who is speaking to you.'
Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, 'What do you want?' or, 'Why are you speaking with her?' Then the woman left her water-jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, 'Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?' They left the city and were on their way to him.
Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, 'Rabbi, eat something.' But he said to them, 'I have food to eat that you do not know about.' So the disciples said to one another, 'Surely no one has brought him something to eat?' Jesus said to them, 'My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. Do you not say, "Four months more, then comes the harvest"? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, "One sows and another reaps." I sent you to reap that for which you did not labour. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labour.'
Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I have ever done.’ So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there for two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Saviour of the world.’
The next morning, the Samaritan women went once again to the well. She heard the bucket splash in the pool at the bottom of Jacob's well. She drew the water up, thankful it was there and knowing her thirst for life had been slaked by different kind of water drawn from a well that said, “I am he.”
And so let's take the long story to heart and take time to tell the stories Paul so beautifully writes about in this week's Epistle.
Romans 5:1-11
Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, February 17, 2008
Lectionary Readings for Sunday, February 17, 2008
Second Sunday in Lent
Genesis 12:1-4a with Psalm 121 and
Romans 4:1-5,13-17 and
John 3:1-17 or Matthew 17:1-9
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
The story of our lives and the story of our congregations can be meaningfully framed as story of connections both made and lost; of meaning that brings order into our lives and times when chaos seemed to reign supreme. Or we can look through the lens of activities, sometimes prompted by our own endeavors, and sometimes born of a response to an ever-changing world. We would soon find, however, that our stories cannot be told without giving the ebb and flow of hope its proper attention. Towards the end of the tale we will undoubtedly take time to count our blessings and give thanks for their power to augment our lives.
Scripture gives us a well-focused lens through which we deepen our insights into the abiding mystery of life, just as John Calvin said it would be. It is not, however, a predictable journey. Time and again it turns our attention to improbable places. If we are to understand liberation we must first hear the cry of the Hebrew people as they endured slavery. If we are celebrate what God can do, we are likely to be drawn not to paragons of health and financial success, but to a group of lepers, a paralytic who has yet to walk, and women who know the meaning of “shun.” The Lenten trek begins not with a celebration, but with the “imposition” of ashes that reminds us of our mortality.
So it is with this week's reading from the Gospel of John. The conversation between Nicodemus and Jesus takes place not in broad daylight but in the depth of night in which daytime boundaries have lost their power to frame simple arguments. What happens at night is complex, somewhat confusing, and mysterious as life itself. We enter the discussion with verses that are chock full of territorial expectations that one would expect might point the way. But instead of solving a problem they simply reframe it.
“There was a Pharisee,” the text reads. The Pharisees knew that worship is not a one day affair, but a daily observance. One of their goals was to extend the sense of the holy so deeply felt on the Sabbath throughout the week. In a bible study last week one man who was not persuaded that Lent's would make an actual difference in the lives of those who observed it said, “From what I've seen everybody just goes back to what they were doing after Easter.” The Pharisees organized to help prevent just such a scenario. There are things you do when God is given primacy in your life; and there are things you do not do. A wise person learns and observes the difference and then shares that knowledge with others. It is essential to recognize that Nicodemus is part of a group. Birds of a feather do flock together when given an opportunity to do so. And when we get together we talk.
This morning I visited an Altzheimer's unit and noticed two chairs at the end of a long hallway. Both were occupied; and three people had drifted that way as well to share gentle conversation blessed by one-word sentences, nods of the head and occasional smiles. At the other end of the hallway a brightly lit dayroom also provided a gathering space. It is our nature to get together, and the patients had created a dayroom annex at the end of the long hallway. When Nicodemus speaks he will note not that he has noticed Jesus' healings, but that 'we” know the healings must be from God. In like manner Jesus notes that “we speak of what we know.” The world of coherence always seeks its adherents. It is in the boundary between coherence and connection that we find life full of wonderful, and inevitable, tension.
There are many layers of meaning in the landscape of coherence that introduces the text.
First we are introduced to a Pharisee.
Then the Pharisee is given a name. He isn't anybody; and he isn't somebody.
Next we learn he is a leader.
Next the leader meets Jesus, whose name reveals his saving mission that an esteemed leader might, or might not, need.
Next Jesus is referred to as “Rabbi.” Clearly the passage will be about learning and teaching. But learning and teaching about what? Coherence invariably asks, “What are you learning? And what are you teaching?”
Finally two men who raised in the same faith make it clear that God is the true focus of their conversation. Whereas Nicodemus pins his words to the world of experience, “No one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God,” Jesus pins his words to an understanding of God that transcends events. Nicodemus is impressed with and curious about signs; Jesus is otherwise inclined. The signs are what they are, but there is more, he seems to say. “Tell me about this,” Nicodemus seems to say and suddenly the teacher named Jesus becomes a teacher. And so it is that two worlds of meaning gently collide. It is not surprising that this happens in the dead of night where we must search carefully to get our true bearings.
Listen carefully to the text. I have highlighted those words that designate boundaries that are such an essential part of coherence.
John 3:1-17
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God." Jesus answered him, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." Nicodemus said to him, "How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?" Jesus answered, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, 'You must be born from above.' The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." Nicodemus said to him, "How can these things be?" Jesus answered him, "Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?
"Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."
The text comes full circle in its understandings of life. What began as one man's question ends with a sermon addressed to everyone. What began with Jesus gently dismissing the power of signs ends with a reference to a serpent in the wilderness, a sign that once saved a snake-bitten people. What begins with reference to Israel ends with an embrace of the world. Although the world “believe” dominates the last two verses, it is clear that essential though belief may be, birth is not something we do. Instead we are born and then find our lives to be an extended conversation about the nature life to which we are called.
As we prepare to preach this text, it will inevitably spark memories of those times you thought something was “real” and then found it to be something else entirely. I have been to many committee meetings in my life as a pastor in which there were also many agendas present at the table and when we left the meeting and headed into the night only sometimes did we find daylight after the meeting. Most of the time these agendas were somewhat hidden, making the encounter between Nicodemus and Jesus remarkable for its candor, its naming of boundaries, and its willingness to engage in a conversation about life.
Or, it may be that you recall a place of apparent confusion that revealed stunning clarity. Such an incident happened to me this week. I was working with a group of dementia/ patients. As we began worship it was clear the congregation was on the move. Some needed to travel, and did. Some clapped to the rhythm of the hymn I played on my banjo, others seemed to drift away as the window framed a tableau of beautifully falling snow. Every once in a while one would speak, his or her words seeking to lay claim to some hidden world of meaning. There could not be, or would not be, an explanation as to why those words were spoken. Suffice it to say the short sentences, or counting over and over again, marked a boundary just as surely as your sermon will this Sunday.
Several days before I underwent yet another round of surgery on my left eye. The hospital asked me to wear a green wristband until a nitrogen bubble is absorbed into whatever cells will receive it. The wristband caught the attention of one woman whose only speech up to that point had been somewhat outside the realm of “normal” conversation. She pointed to the band, wanting to know what happened.
“It's for my eye,” I said. “There's a bubble in it. When the bubble goes away I can take this off.” She smiled.
“Your eye is going to be okay,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said. “You have given me a blessing, and I thank you.”
As so often happen, if we are to look for life we are wise to not avoid conversations born of an Alzheimer's night or an encounter between a wise leader named Nicodemus and a teacher named Jesus.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Second Sunday in Lent
Genesis 12:1-4a with Psalm 121 and
Romans 4:1-5,13-17 and
John 3:1-17 or Matthew 17:1-9
Life has a language.
And Scripture has a word for us.
The story of our lives and the story of our congregations can be meaningfully framed as story of connections both made and lost; of meaning that brings order into our lives and times when chaos seemed to reign supreme. Or we can look through the lens of activities, sometimes prompted by our own endeavors, and sometimes born of a response to an ever-changing world. We would soon find, however, that our stories cannot be told without giving the ebb and flow of hope its proper attention. Towards the end of the tale we will undoubtedly take time to count our blessings and give thanks for their power to augment our lives.
Scripture gives us a well-focused lens through which we deepen our insights into the abiding mystery of life, just as John Calvin said it would be. It is not, however, a predictable journey. Time and again it turns our attention to improbable places. If we are to understand liberation we must first hear the cry of the Hebrew people as they endured slavery. If we are celebrate what God can do, we are likely to be drawn not to paragons of health and financial success, but to a group of lepers, a paralytic who has yet to walk, and women who know the meaning of “shun.” The Lenten trek begins not with a celebration, but with the “imposition” of ashes that reminds us of our mortality.
So it is with this week's reading from the Gospel of John. The conversation between Nicodemus and Jesus takes place not in broad daylight but in the depth of night in which daytime boundaries have lost their power to frame simple arguments. What happens at night is complex, somewhat confusing, and mysterious as life itself. We enter the discussion with verses that are chock full of territorial expectations that one would expect might point the way. But instead of solving a problem they simply reframe it.
“There was a Pharisee,” the text reads. The Pharisees knew that worship is not a one day affair, but a daily observance. One of their goals was to extend the sense of the holy so deeply felt on the Sabbath throughout the week. In a bible study last week one man who was not persuaded that Lent's would make an actual difference in the lives of those who observed it said, “From what I've seen everybody just goes back to what they were doing after Easter.” The Pharisees organized to help prevent just such a scenario. There are things you do when God is given primacy in your life; and there are things you do not do. A wise person learns and observes the difference and then shares that knowledge with others. It is essential to recognize that Nicodemus is part of a group. Birds of a feather do flock together when given an opportunity to do so. And when we get together we talk.
This morning I visited an Altzheimer's unit and noticed two chairs at the end of a long hallway. Both were occupied; and three people had drifted that way as well to share gentle conversation blessed by one-word sentences, nods of the head and occasional smiles. At the other end of the hallway a brightly lit dayroom also provided a gathering space. It is our nature to get together, and the patients had created a dayroom annex at the end of the long hallway. When Nicodemus speaks he will note not that he has noticed Jesus' healings, but that 'we” know the healings must be from God. In like manner Jesus notes that “we speak of what we know.” The world of coherence always seeks its adherents. It is in the boundary between coherence and connection that we find life full of wonderful, and inevitable, tension.
There are many layers of meaning in the landscape of coherence that introduces the text.
First we are introduced to a Pharisee.
Then the Pharisee is given a name. He isn't anybody; and he isn't somebody.
Next we learn he is a leader.
Next the leader meets Jesus, whose name reveals his saving mission that an esteemed leader might, or might not, need.
Next Jesus is referred to as “Rabbi.” Clearly the passage will be about learning and teaching. But learning and teaching about what? Coherence invariably asks, “What are you learning? And what are you teaching?”
Finally two men who raised in the same faith make it clear that God is the true focus of their conversation. Whereas Nicodemus pins his words to the world of experience, “No one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God,” Jesus pins his words to an understanding of God that transcends events. Nicodemus is impressed with and curious about signs; Jesus is otherwise inclined. The signs are what they are, but there is more, he seems to say. “Tell me about this,” Nicodemus seems to say and suddenly the teacher named Jesus becomes a teacher. And so it is that two worlds of meaning gently collide. It is not surprising that this happens in the dead of night where we must search carefully to get our true bearings.
Listen carefully to the text. I have highlighted those words that designate boundaries that are such an essential part of coherence.
John 3:1-17
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God." Jesus answered him, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." Nicodemus said to him, "How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?" Jesus answered, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, 'You must be born from above.' The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." Nicodemus said to him, "How can these things be?" Jesus answered him, "Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?
"Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."
The text comes full circle in its understandings of life. What began as one man's question ends with a sermon addressed to everyone. What began with Jesus gently dismissing the power of signs ends with a reference to a serpent in the wilderness, a sign that once saved a snake-bitten people. What begins with reference to Israel ends with an embrace of the world. Although the world “believe” dominates the last two verses, it is clear that essential though belief may be, birth is not something we do. Instead we are born and then find our lives to be an extended conversation about the nature life to which we are called.
As we prepare to preach this text, it will inevitably spark memories of those times you thought something was “real” and then found it to be something else entirely. I have been to many committee meetings in my life as a pastor in which there were also many agendas present at the table and when we left the meeting and headed into the night only sometimes did we find daylight after the meeting. Most of the time these agendas were somewhat hidden, making the encounter between Nicodemus and Jesus remarkable for its candor, its naming of boundaries, and its willingness to engage in a conversation about life.
Or, it may be that you recall a place of apparent confusion that revealed stunning clarity. Such an incident happened to me this week. I was working with a group of dementia/ patients. As we began worship it was clear the congregation was on the move. Some needed to travel, and did. Some clapped to the rhythm of the hymn I played on my banjo, others seemed to drift away as the window framed a tableau of beautifully falling snow. Every once in a while one would speak, his or her words seeking to lay claim to some hidden world of meaning. There could not be, or would not be, an explanation as to why those words were spoken. Suffice it to say the short sentences, or counting over and over again, marked a boundary just as surely as your sermon will this Sunday.
Several days before I underwent yet another round of surgery on my left eye. The hospital asked me to wear a green wristband until a nitrogen bubble is absorbed into whatever cells will receive it. The wristband caught the attention of one woman whose only speech up to that point had been somewhat outside the realm of “normal” conversation. She pointed to the band, wanting to know what happened.
“It's for my eye,” I said. “There's a bubble in it. When the bubble goes away I can take this off.” She smiled.
“Your eye is going to be okay,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said. “You have given me a blessing, and I thank you.”
As so often happen, if we are to look for life we are wise to not avoid conversations born of an Alzheimer's night or an encounter between a wise leader named Nicodemus and a teacher named Jesus.
Larry
I welcome your response to these columns. I may be reached at:
larry@leadingcausesoflife.org
Or
larrypray@gmail.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)