[I wrote this during the long hiatus, in January 2013. I don't know why I didn't post it then. In any event, straight from the draft archives, here it is, dear reader.]
On the Day of Epiphany, 2013
"Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." (Proverbs 9:10; Psalm 111:10)
"God is love." (1 John 4:8)
These are perhaps the two most misunderstood truths found in the Scriptures. And they are all the more puzzling because they are statements that belong together. The Day of Epiphany is about coming to a realization about these statements. Just as the Day of Pentecost and the time afterwards is about coming to live according to these statements, being able to say: "Fear of myself is the beginning of wisdom." and "I am love."
But let us stick with Epiphany, so that we might be prepared for Lent and Easter (which need to come before Pentecost, for the effect to take hold in us, anyway).
We hear of the Three Wise Men, following a star so that they might find Jesus, the Christ, and pay him homage--worship him. These wise men were not kings, but Magi. What is a Magus (the singular of magi), you ask? Well, we get the word magician from the word magi. So, these "three" men were magicians. They used magic to find their way through life, they used hocus pocus to advise rulers and common people. They were astrologers. They were augurs. They searched the stars for supernatural wisdom. They used magical spells and techniques to control the events of and the people in their lives. They were sorcerers...warlocks. Even the gifts they brought to Jesus were the demonic tools of their trade, materials that they believed had magical properties, materials that were used to cast spells and peer into the future. The star they followed was a symbol in their pagan belief system. And through that star, God called them to be near to Jesus Christ.
It is hard for us to understand how offensive it was for these wise men to stand before the Messiah. Sorcery was against the Law. The three wise men were pagans--gentiles--who were unclean. And without being purified, without converting to the true belief in the one God, while they were yet sinners, they came and stood before Immanuel, God-on-Earth. They entered the Holy of Holies--even in their demonic state of being. And they came because God called them. They came because God invited and welcomed them. They were called because God even loved them.
This Gospel passage for Epiphany is paired with Paul's words to the Ephesians (3:1-12). Paul tries to explain to the Church that in Christ Jesus, the gentiles have been made heirs with Israel. How, because of Jesus, those who were far off have been called near. And that is the mystery of the Good News about Jesus: God's overwhelming love for the whole world.
It is a love that we do not share. It is a love that we refuse to have in our hearts. And by "we" I mean Christians, a body of which I am a part.
Oh, we do love--our family (sometimes), our friends (most of the time), our spouses (with some effort), etc. Many Christians even get to the point of loving those who are in need. Many give to the poor, feed the hungry, heal the sick, visit the prisoners---all out of love. Some Christians even make it to loving the stranger. Some Christians will help a person even if they don't know whether that person is worthy of that help or not. We, at times, give money to the street beggar, never knowing and never giving a thought to what the person will use the money for---out of love. But only a few Christians progress enough in their own soul to love even the enemy.
Let me give you a clear example. A great majority of Christians in our culture and country see Muslims as enemies. For the sake of argument, let me allow what is not true, let me say what is summarily false: Muslims are our enemy because they are terrorists who are taught to bring terror in the world. And let me say something that is truth: Muslims are seen as enemies because they do not believe that Jesus Christ is God--they are not baptized, they do not receive Communion, and they do not hear the Word rightly preached. Something else that is true: Muslims have killed our Christian relatives in wars that Americans have waged in Islamic lands.
The task of the Christian faith is to love these same Muslims.
Yes, the ones that do not believe and who are not baptized. Yes, the ones that are terrorists. Yes, the ones that have killed our relatives.
Why? Because God loves them. (And if you need another reason, then our task is much larger and harder than I anticipated.)
Remember, God invited the Magi who were demonic and unclean (God's own enemies) to be near his Son. He welcomed them, he insisted they come, dragging them across the known world. God didn't convert them in order to bring them, he brought them because he was excited to show them what he was doing--whether it converted them or not.
Who are we that we are not required to do the same? To love in the same way?
We are called to participate in God's love in such a way that we love even our enemies. What's more, we are to love them while they are enemies.
Returning to our example: If you love a Muslim person only once they have converted to Christianity, then you are not loving an enemy but a friend--you love your Christian family, not the gentiles. If you love someone after they had repented of killing you child, then you love an enemy that has become something besides an enemy--perhaps a friend, perhaps not quite that far. But to love while they are Muslim, while they are killing your loved one...that is loving your enemy.
Jesus loved us before we were Christian. Jesus loved us while we were killing him. And yet how we groan under the burden of being like him in this respect, the burden of following---of imitating---him.
It is only when we love the enemy that we truly begin to understand the Gospel.
It is only when we love the enemy that we truly begin to love Jesus.
It is only when we love the enemy that we truly begin to love those we love.
It is only by learning to love the enemy that we truly begin to learn how to love our own selves.
God loves his creatures.
Jews, Gentiles and Pagans alike.
God loves even the atheist.
God loved the three wise warlocks.
God loved even King Herod.
Such is the strength and power of God's love.
Does that frighten you?
It does me.
And so it should.
That is the beginning of wisdom: God is love.
For, until we are frightened by the power of God's love, we will never truly begin to understand what love is. Therefore, we shall never understand who God is. Our epiphany about Jesus will never come, and we will never truly appreciate that God loves even us, while we are yet sinners.
What is the gospel? God's love is awesome. Amen.
[Next up, from the draft archive: a two part blog entitled, "The Joy of It: To Wait" and "The Joy of It: That God Waits for Us." Wait for it...]
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Got Eternity?
-or- What the World Needs Now...
"What the age needs in the deepest sense can be said fully and completely with one single word: it needs...eternity." -Soren Kierkegaard
The temporal and the eternal are absolutely different. Eternity is not simply slices of time (say, days for instance) that are added in succession forever. Rather, eternity is atemporal--totally without time. Temporality can be sliced up and measured. Eternity cannot be measured in the same way.
In the person of Jesus Christ, eternity breaks into the world. God, whose existence is in eternity first and foremost--who IS eternity--takes on temporality. Of a sudden, in an absolute paradox, the chasm between eternity and temporality is bridged--time and timelessness are unified.
As we follow Jesus Christ, as we become disciples--true human beings, the purpose is to combine within our own lives time and eternity. Our goal is to allow the Eternal Spirit become one with our temporal self. In this way, we become truly human, washed in the image of God.
This is what Soren Kierkegaard, existentialist theologian and philosopher, argued. But how much sense does it really make? What does it mean, practically, for us to be--in our being--both temporal and eternal beings? What does it look like?
Let us go to the Bible for an example. On Sunday, June 16th, 2013, we will share the story of the woman who washes Jesus' feet with her tears and dries them with her hair. This story comes from the Gospel according to Luke 7:36--8:3 (please pause and read it now).
The woman, a sinner, displays all the signs of having become a pure and absolute mixture of both time and eternity, of both the profane and the sacred, the mundane and divine. Notice, it is not the disciples who exist in this way (at least not in this story), nor the Pharisees, or any of the other religious or "good" people present. It is this woman, "a woman from the city, who was a sinner" who lays hold of the perfect being and selfhood attainable only through faith.
First of all, we must note that such a phenomenon can only occur in the presence of Jesus Christ. For this reason we say in worship: "May Jesus Christ be with you always. And also with you." For this reason, we receive the sacraments, especially Holy Communion, as often as possible. For this reason, Jesus sent the Holy Spirit to be his presence with us after he ascended to be with the Father.
Second, we must note the moment when eternity touches the temporal within the woman. Eternity can only present itself momentarily--that is, in the moment. Time always marches on, and eternity must become present anew in each moment, lest it become time or lest it overwhelms time and destroys it.
The most stunning moment of faith occurs in the moment the woman washes Jesus feet. What produces this work of love? Lutheran theology argues that the woman did not come to wash her Savior's feet in order to earn forgiveness. Rather, it is gratitude to God for God's grace that produces in us works of love. Therefore, the woman came to wash Jesus' feet precisely because she was forgiven.
The moment, then, (that is, the moment when eternity touches temporality) is when our inner self and our outer deeds come perfectly into line. The woman willed but one thing: to give thanks to her Savior. And in that moment when she knelt down at his feet, her will and her actions were perfectly harmonious. Gratitude coincided perfectly with the work of love. The woman did not think of other considerations: what the others would think; that her hair would get dirty; that Jesus' feet stank; that washing Jesus feet was the action of a slave. The woman didn't even stop to think how Jesus would react, but instead, in perfect faith, her will and desire was to combine her inner gratitude to its external expression. Not for payment--for salvation--but simply because.
Ah, but here we have ascertained the role of time, but not of eternity! For an action is only temporary, it has a beginning and an end. And even our human will and desire, in all its fickleness, is purely temporal. Wherein, then, lies the eternal? In the eternal will and action of God that meets the will and action of the woman in such a way that you cannot distinguish the two. We can discern it, though, by looking at forgiveness in time.
As I said, when Lutherans read this story, they must say that the woman came to wash Jesus' feet because of gratitude to her Savior. Gratitude for what? The woman, who was a sinner, must have been thankful for Jesus' grace. This means that already, before she entered the room, she believed that God had forgiven her (past tense). The woman acted by grace through faith.
Then, after she dried his feet with her hair, Jesus said, "Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, are being forgiven [this is actually present tense--the NRSV fudges the translation slightly]" and again he says to her directly, "Your sins are forgiven" (present tense).
Lastly, Jesus tells her to "Go in peace." In other words, when the woman leaves, she must and will be able to continue to trust in God's grace. Going from there, she has the faith that her subsequent sins will be forgiven (future tense).
Here we have hit on eternity! The one moment in time, in which the woman washes Jesus feet, is but one instance of the forgiveness that comes from eternity and comes eternally. It is the one moment when the woman's knowledge of forgiveness and her response are commensurate. God and the woman are one--on the same page--in that moment. But that moment is soon over and divided by time. However, and here is the blessed joy that is ours, God repeats his act of grace in the next moment, and the next, ad infinitum. Eternity, again and again, breaks into time. To us, in time, this appears as simple repetition, however, for God it is one continuous, eternal movement. In other words, when God acts he always and eternally acts to save. For this reason, God's repetition of salvation unites these different temporary occurrences, making them one eternal action:
Saving Noah and his family from the Flood
Leading his people through the Red Sea
Jesus' baptism in the River Jordan
Our baptism into Christ Jesus
Providing the river of the Water of Life flowing in the city (from Revelation)
Over the course of history, water turns from a bringer of death to the Water of life. And in each event, life is attained or reclaimed by going through the chaotic waters and being raised up to new life. Each of these are singular events in the march of salvation history, and yet each action is, in and of itself, wholly and completely salvific. In other words, God's one repeated action unites these various temporal events in eternity. When recollected, each event inspires gratitude which propels us, by faith, to Jesus Christ, for the divine action to be repeated again. In this way, time and eternity meet in unity in the moment.
Let me break down why all of this matters.
I pray that, by the power of the Holy Spirit, you will--this moment--remember God's love and grace given to you. And in that recollection, eternity will touch you in time and transform you, so that your will and action will become absolutely one. Let each moment in your life become so focussed that you do not lose sight of Christ Jesus, but always turn your face toward eternity, transcending time within the moment. In each moment, let the Spirit make you grateful...and let the Spirit help you act out of love.
For such is what happens when eternity breaks into temporality. We call it faith...we call it freedom...we call it love. Amen.
"What the age needs in the deepest sense can be said fully and completely with one single word: it needs...eternity." -Soren Kierkegaard
The temporal and the eternal are absolutely different. Eternity is not simply slices of time (say, days for instance) that are added in succession forever. Rather, eternity is atemporal--totally without time. Temporality can be sliced up and measured. Eternity cannot be measured in the same way.
In the person of Jesus Christ, eternity breaks into the world. God, whose existence is in eternity first and foremost--who IS eternity--takes on temporality. Of a sudden, in an absolute paradox, the chasm between eternity and temporality is bridged--time and timelessness are unified.
As we follow Jesus Christ, as we become disciples--true human beings, the purpose is to combine within our own lives time and eternity. Our goal is to allow the Eternal Spirit become one with our temporal self. In this way, we become truly human, washed in the image of God.
This is what Soren Kierkegaard, existentialist theologian and philosopher, argued. But how much sense does it really make? What does it mean, practically, for us to be--in our being--both temporal and eternal beings? What does it look like?
Let us go to the Bible for an example. On Sunday, June 16th, 2013, we will share the story of the woman who washes Jesus' feet with her tears and dries them with her hair. This story comes from the Gospel according to Luke 7:36--8:3 (please pause and read it now).
The woman, a sinner, displays all the signs of having become a pure and absolute mixture of both time and eternity, of both the profane and the sacred, the mundane and divine. Notice, it is not the disciples who exist in this way (at least not in this story), nor the Pharisees, or any of the other religious or "good" people present. It is this woman, "a woman from the city, who was a sinner" who lays hold of the perfect being and selfhood attainable only through faith.
First of all, we must note that such a phenomenon can only occur in the presence of Jesus Christ. For this reason we say in worship: "May Jesus Christ be with you always. And also with you." For this reason, we receive the sacraments, especially Holy Communion, as often as possible. For this reason, Jesus sent the Holy Spirit to be his presence with us after he ascended to be with the Father.
Second, we must note the moment when eternity touches the temporal within the woman. Eternity can only present itself momentarily--that is, in the moment. Time always marches on, and eternity must become present anew in each moment, lest it become time or lest it overwhelms time and destroys it.
The most stunning moment of faith occurs in the moment the woman washes Jesus feet. What produces this work of love? Lutheran theology argues that the woman did not come to wash her Savior's feet in order to earn forgiveness. Rather, it is gratitude to God for God's grace that produces in us works of love. Therefore, the woman came to wash Jesus' feet precisely because she was forgiven.
The moment, then, (that is, the moment when eternity touches temporality) is when our inner self and our outer deeds come perfectly into line. The woman willed but one thing: to give thanks to her Savior. And in that moment when she knelt down at his feet, her will and her actions were perfectly harmonious. Gratitude coincided perfectly with the work of love. The woman did not think of other considerations: what the others would think; that her hair would get dirty; that Jesus' feet stank; that washing Jesus feet was the action of a slave. The woman didn't even stop to think how Jesus would react, but instead, in perfect faith, her will and desire was to combine her inner gratitude to its external expression. Not for payment--for salvation--but simply because.
Ah, but here we have ascertained the role of time, but not of eternity! For an action is only temporary, it has a beginning and an end. And even our human will and desire, in all its fickleness, is purely temporal. Wherein, then, lies the eternal? In the eternal will and action of God that meets the will and action of the woman in such a way that you cannot distinguish the two. We can discern it, though, by looking at forgiveness in time.
As I said, when Lutherans read this story, they must say that the woman came to wash Jesus' feet because of gratitude to her Savior. Gratitude for what? The woman, who was a sinner, must have been thankful for Jesus' grace. This means that already, before she entered the room, she believed that God had forgiven her (past tense). The woman acted by grace through faith.
Then, after she dried his feet with her hair, Jesus said, "Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, are being forgiven [this is actually present tense--the NRSV fudges the translation slightly]" and again he says to her directly, "Your sins are forgiven" (present tense).
Lastly, Jesus tells her to "Go in peace." In other words, when the woman leaves, she must and will be able to continue to trust in God's grace. Going from there, she has the faith that her subsequent sins will be forgiven (future tense).
Here we have hit on eternity! The one moment in time, in which the woman washes Jesus feet, is but one instance of the forgiveness that comes from eternity and comes eternally. It is the one moment when the woman's knowledge of forgiveness and her response are commensurate. God and the woman are one--on the same page--in that moment. But that moment is soon over and divided by time. However, and here is the blessed joy that is ours, God repeats his act of grace in the next moment, and the next, ad infinitum. Eternity, again and again, breaks into time. To us, in time, this appears as simple repetition, however, for God it is one continuous, eternal movement. In other words, when God acts he always and eternally acts to save. For this reason, God's repetition of salvation unites these different temporary occurrences, making them one eternal action:
Saving Noah and his family from the Flood
Leading his people through the Red Sea
Jesus' baptism in the River Jordan
Our baptism into Christ Jesus
Providing the river of the Water of Life flowing in the city (from Revelation)
Over the course of history, water turns from a bringer of death to the Water of life. And in each event, life is attained or reclaimed by going through the chaotic waters and being raised up to new life. Each of these are singular events in the march of salvation history, and yet each action is, in and of itself, wholly and completely salvific. In other words, God's one repeated action unites these various temporal events in eternity. When recollected, each event inspires gratitude which propels us, by faith, to Jesus Christ, for the divine action to be repeated again. In this way, time and eternity meet in unity in the moment.
Let me break down why all of this matters.
I pray that, by the power of the Holy Spirit, you will--this moment--remember God's love and grace given to you. And in that recollection, eternity will touch you in time and transform you, so that your will and action will become absolutely one. Let each moment in your life become so focussed that you do not lose sight of Christ Jesus, but always turn your face toward eternity, transcending time within the moment. In each moment, let the Spirit make you grateful...and let the Spirit help you act out of love.
For such is what happens when eternity breaks into temporality. We call it faith...we call it freedom...we call it love. Amen.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Talking Turkey about Thanksgiving -or- On the Spirit of Thanksgiving
With Thanksgiving right around the corner, I have been doing some thinking about what the attitude of thanksgiving is, precisely. So, I have torn thanksgiving apart, like the remnants of a cooked avian corpse, to see where the meat is. Here are some of the more...filling conclusions of my ruminations. We start with an example that was given to me by my confirmation class this week.
Daniel gives me a piece of cheese.
I like cheese, and so immediately upon receiving the gift I say "Thank you."
Daniel leaves. I put the cheese in the fridge.
The next day, I see the cheese and decide to have some.
I love cheese. This cheese is particularly amazing.
In that moment, while eating the cheese, I think about Daniel and what a great gift he gave me.
At what point in all of this is the spirit of thanksgiving born? Some might say it begins with receiving the gift and saying "thank you." I disagree. Thanksgiving is more profound and sophisticated than simple thankfulness or appreciation. (You may accuse me of splitting hairs here, but please read on to learn more about the distinction for which I am arguing.) I believe that thanksgiving begins in the moment when I am enjoying the cheese. And it depends on what I am thankful for in that moment.
In every case of thanksgiving, there are two parties: the giver and the one to whom the thing was given. Thanksgiving requires that a gift was given, requires that what I am thankful for was transferred to me from someone else. We can be thankful for something, but it does not become thanksgiving until we make the jump to being thankful to the source of the gift. In thanksgiving, the object needs a subject. Daniel gave me a piece of cheese. If I sat relishing the cheese the afternoon it was given, even if I kept saying how thankful I was to taste this cheese, if I did not take the further step and remember Daniel, then my thankfulness would remain selfish. My focus would never leave how wonderful my life was with this cheese in it, and so I would miss the opportunity to break through the isolation in life to find a friendly companion in the world. And the focus would remain on the object, the material thing instead of the intense depth of what the cheese signifies interpersonally, emotionally, etc. Simply being thankful for something is materialistic, selfish and isolating. If being thankful for something never becomes thankfulness to someone, then there is no benefit to my soul.
Luckily, the Christian has a boundless source of benefit for the soul. For when the Christian remembers that "every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights" (James 1:17), then everything for which one can be thankful also entails someone to which one can be thankful, namely God. Indeed, the Christian is a Christian only if and precisely when the object one possesses receives a subject who has given it. What's more, every giver who cannot be said to be God is included in this. For the whole quote from James reads, "every generous act of giving, along with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of Lights...." So, when I am thankful to Daniel I am, as a Christian, simultaneously thankful to God whose work inspired Daniel's generous act of giving. Every gift is passed down from on high in this manner. And we all become vehicles of God's generous giving.
Now say that I am thankful for my iPhone, which I am. It was not given to me as a gift. I purchased it. So, then, is it impossible for me to be moved to a spirit of thanksgiving for my iPhone? Not at all. To move beyond being thankful for it, though, I need to do a little work. I must trace the situation back in order to see that it is, in the final analysis, a gift. How is this so? I paid for the phone with money. I earned the money, perhaps, in my job? Perhaps I earned the job, but did I myself earn the economic system in which the job was available? Did I create the organization that hired me? Did I create the situation in which the organization has flourished? Did I win the freedom and prosperity of the nation that has given the organization a place? Or did I create the technology, in order that such a phone would be available to me? In this way, we can trace my possessing the phone back to the component parts--of civilization, of the human intellect and being, and of the materials with which the phone itself is made--and they are traced back to God's creation. Of course, along the way, we also see the many hands that passed this gift down, through which God has worked all the while. And I find that I am not only thankful for my phone, but, indeed, my phone causes in my soul much thanksgiving.
In every act of thanksgiving, there is also a temporal component. It is quite significant that time passed between my receiving the gift and my giving thanks for it. Since, in thanksgiving, I am not only thankful for, but also thankful to, thanksgiving requires that I not only remember the thing given, but also the giver. In fact, remembering the giver is the entire point. In the moment when the gift is given, it is easy to remember the giver, as the giver is present in that moment. (Even if the gift is sent, that is given remotely, the giver is present in my mind immediately upon receiving the gift.) Thankfulness for a gift occurs immediately, in the moment in which it is given. But the deciding factor in whether or not thankfulness will transform into thanksgiving is time. Will I, after a little while, when I enjoy the gift, remember the giver? That is the question. Because the next condition necessary for the birth of thanksgiving is the evocation of the giver and the moment of the giving after the fact. Eternity must meet temporality, and only then do we experience thanksgiving as a holy moment. In enjoying the gift, the giving must become contemporaneous with the moment of enjoying the gift through the act of remembrance. I must remember how the thing came into my possession. If I do not, then the gift is no longer a gift, it is simply something I possess. Moreover, the giver (however distant in time and space) must be brought forth in remembrance. Part of the idea of the gift is for the giver to be present in one's life in a meaningful way through the gift itself. And so the enjoyment of the gift must evoke both these things: the moment of the giving and the giver.
This leads us to our final point. Thankfulness becomes thanksgiving when I give my thanks as a gift. When I stop to remember, in the moment that I am enjoying the gift and not just in the moment I receive the gift, all of a sudden I am giving attention to the giver in a spirit of thankfulness. I am also giving a portion of time to the person--whether they know it or not is inconsequential--as I halt in my enjoyment and remember. At least a portion of my very valuable time and attention is then given to remembering that this cheese was a gift, and instead of simply being thankful for, I have become thankful to in a way that transforms my thankfulness already into a giving. In this way, I am making my enjoyment itself a gift in return to the giver--by taking the time and attention to remember the giver in thanks. My remembering Daniel's act of giving alone constitutes a spirit of thanksgiving. I am not just full of thanks, but am giving it because now there is a subject upon which or before which my thanks can be placed (which brings us back to the beginning).
Thanksgiving, then, requires giving as well as thanks. The other benefit thanksgiving is to the soul is that it fosters in the individual a glad and generous heart. And so in thanksgiving, I not only wish to give thanks to the giver, but I also, perhaps, desire to give as the giver has given, as the Giver gives. My heart is trained in such a way that I become a glad and generous giver.
Every act of worship is a thanksgiving, and it requires all of these components:
Having received a gift; enjoyment of the gift; remembering the giver in thanksgiving; and giving as the giver gives.
Bible Study time. Deuteronomy 26:1-15 is the quintessential thanksgiving text.
It describes what we are supposed to do on tax day (which for us is April 15th).
When we bring our taxes (or our tithe), we are to place it before the altar and remember. We are to remember that God has given us all that we have--the bounty of the earth, the land we possess, the money we have, etc., etc. And so, as we give our first fruits of the year, we recount all that God has done for us (and for our nation!): "...my ancestor was a wandering Aramean" (Abraham) and "you made him a great nation" and "when he went down to Egypt and was enslaved, you brought the people out into freedom" and "you gave us the Promised Land as our habitation." The giving of the tax or the tithe, then becomes an act of thanksgiving as we remember in thankfulness not only what was given, but who gave it to us. Our having received and our giving becomes a small part of a much larger relationship, a much larger economy. Indeed, the passage ends with a plea: 'God, please continue to bless us as you have promised to do, and as you have been doing.' In other words, we want our relationship with you to continue. If only April 15th could feel this good! If only our weekly offering in church could make us feel so infinitely blessed! All it takes is recognizing the gift, remembering the giver, and letting our thankfulness turn into action...into thanksgiving.
What causes you to give thanks?
What has God given to you this year?
Remember these things, and Christ Jesus who is the source of boundless riches, giving thanks to God.
Joyful thanksgivings to everyone!
rha
Thanksgiving, then, requires giving as well as thanks. The other benefit thanksgiving is to the soul is that it fosters in the individual a glad and generous heart. And so in thanksgiving, I not only wish to give thanks to the giver, but I also, perhaps, desire to give as the giver has given, as the Giver gives. My heart is trained in such a way that I become a glad and generous giver.
Every act of worship is a thanksgiving, and it requires all of these components:
Having received a gift; enjoyment of the gift; remembering the giver in thanksgiving; and giving as the giver gives.
Bible Study time. Deuteronomy 26:1-15 is the quintessential thanksgiving text.
It describes what we are supposed to do on tax day (which for us is April 15th).
When we bring our taxes (or our tithe), we are to place it before the altar and remember. We are to remember that God has given us all that we have--the bounty of the earth, the land we possess, the money we have, etc., etc. And so, as we give our first fruits of the year, we recount all that God has done for us (and for our nation!): "...my ancestor was a wandering Aramean" (Abraham) and "you made him a great nation" and "when he went down to Egypt and was enslaved, you brought the people out into freedom" and "you gave us the Promised Land as our habitation." The giving of the tax or the tithe, then becomes an act of thanksgiving as we remember in thankfulness not only what was given, but who gave it to us. Our having received and our giving becomes a small part of a much larger relationship, a much larger economy. Indeed, the passage ends with a plea: 'God, please continue to bless us as you have promised to do, and as you have been doing.' In other words, we want our relationship with you to continue. If only April 15th could feel this good! If only our weekly offering in church could make us feel so infinitely blessed! All it takes is recognizing the gift, remembering the giver, and letting our thankfulness turn into action...into thanksgiving.
What causes you to give thanks?
What has God given to you this year?
Remember these things, and Christ Jesus who is the source of boundless riches, giving thanks to God.
Joyful thanksgivings to everyone!
rha
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Remembering the Dead -or- What All Saint's Day Teaches Us
On All Saint's Day, Christians remember all of those who are witnesses to the truth. We particularly remember those who have finished their course in life, and who rest in perfect joy and eternal life in God's house. We remember the martyrs, the apostles, the saintly heros of Christianity throughout the ages, and all of those who have touched our own lives. Although All Saint's Day is not a day just to remember the dead, but rather even the living who help support and console us in our faith journeys, we particularly remember the dead.
A short meditation by Soren Kierkegaard, in his book Works of Love, gave me a greater appreciation for remembering the dead. What follows is a repetition of his themes, accompanied and followed by a few of my own reflections.
Remembering one who has died is the greatest act of love.
That is, when we remember this one, despite our grief of loss, with thanksgiving. When, despite our sorrow, which is a part of our veneration, we lovingly remember the one who is dead.
Remembering the one who has died is the greatest act of love because it is a love that is entirely unselfish, totally free, and completely faithful.
Remembering the Dead One is entirely unselfish.
If I love someone who is living, there is always the possibility that I will get something in return for that love. At the very least, I will be, as it were, repaid by that person loving me in return. If I love my family or spouse or friends, then I may receive support of all kinds from them. How easy it is to love someone who makes you laugh, who helps you, who listens to you, who gives you wise advice, who sits with you in sorrow, or who walks beside you in trials.
But one who is dead can give nothing in return for our recollecting them in love. The one who is dead cannot help us, cannot walk beside us through life--they are buried in the ground or have been returned to ashes and dust. The one who is dead cannot even return our love. Recollecting the dead, then, is entirely unselfish, because there is no room for any expectation that we will get anything in return for the love we give in recollecting. There is no possibility of gain.
Remembering the Dead One is totally free, indeed, is the freest type of love.
If I say to a loved one who is living: "I will always love you." Or, when saying goodbye when I move away from a loved one, I say: "I will always remember you." Or I say to a friend, "I will always remember that good thing you did for me." It may happen that through the course of busy days, I do forget, that I do not always remember that person in love. But, when I see that person again, perhaps they remember. And upon seeing me, they ask, "Do you remember me?" Oh! They themselves remember, and they have remembered my promises! Even if it is by their very presence, and they say nothing to make sure I remember, they remind me of my promise. Presented with their reminder, I again remember them in love.
Or say my mother frustrates me, and I vent that frustration to a friend. That friend will listen patiently to my complaint, but then the friend will remind me: She is your mother. You must love her. You must always remember your love for her.
There is no such police force to hold us accountable in remembering the dead in love. There is no governmental or social or independent organization that does or can peer into our soul to verify that we are recollecting the dead in love. Even our closest friends do not ask if we remember our dead ones...though they may listen intently, with compassion and with admiration for our love, when we broach the subject. And we will never run into the one who is dead. The one who is dead will not come back into our lives, and by his or her presence remind us of our love.
And so, if I continue to remember the one who has died, if I continue to remember them with love, then it is a totally free act on my part. I choose to remember them, and it is by my will alone that I continue so to do.
Remember the Dead One is a completely faithful act of love.
Say that I am in a relationship of love with someone who is warm and breathing. It may happen that that relationship ends. I can still be faithful in my love for that person, my love could be unchanged. For even in the final analysis, I can still say to myself that that person changed. And it was the change in them, their unfaithfulness, that destroyed the relationship--even as I remained faithful. I can even turn away from that relationship and forget that person, knowing that I loved faithfully.
It is not so with the love that remembers the one who is dead. The one who is dead cannot change. They rest in eternity and have the strength of eternity...that is, they no longer change. And so, if I forget the one who is dead, and fail to remember them in love, then it can only be because there was a change in me. The recollection ends, the love peters out, only if I become unfaithful. Ah, but if I persist in continually remembering the one who is dead, then that love is perfectly faithful, and I am completely faithful to that person. Recollecting the one who is dead, then, is the highest faithful act of love.
So, remembering in love the one who has died is a work of love that is entirely unselfish, totally free and completely faithful. But one may still ask what the purpose is for remembering the dead in love. Why does it matter? Should we not live for the future? Is it not good and healthy to move on and to cease dwelling on death, and those who are dead? Do we not trap ourselves in sorrow, when we cling unceasingly to one who has left us in death? We should live in the moment. We should focus our energy and love on those who are around us. Etc., etc.
These things may be true. And yet, it is crucial that we continually recollect the dead in love. It is crucial because when we remember in love the one who has died, we are able to learn and to practice the highest form of love. And it is the duty of every Christian to love all those who are living with the same perfect love with which we recollect the dead.
To wit, we are to love our neighbor unselfishly. We are to love every one we meet even if we can expect nothing in return from them. We must not only love our family and friends--those who support us and help us--but we are also to love the stranger whom we will never see again. We are to love the poor one, who has nothing to give. We must not only love those who love us in return, but we are also to love those who do not love us--our enemy, the one who persecutes us, the one who treats us with indifference.
To wit, we are to love our neighbor freely. If we love and give charity out of guilt of compulsion, it is not a free love. If we love simply because we think it is expected of us, it is not free. If we love because we are told it is what Christians do, and therefore in wanting to be Christian we show love, remembering the poor, the widows, the orphaned, the sick, the imprisoned, etc.--then it is not a free love. But in recollecting the dead, we learn how to love simply by choice and will, by the welling up of love from our hearts.
To wit, we are to love our neighbor faithfully. Even if the one (remember we are talking about the one who is living!), even if our beloved changes, we must persist in our love. If the one we love (remember, we are talking about the ones who are easy to love AND the stranger, the sinner, the rogue and the enemy!), if the one we love sins, even if they sin against us, we must be faithful in our love. Even if they forget us, we are to remember them--always recollecting them in love.
Recollecting the one who is dead gives us the skill and the fortitude to love those around us. And so, All Saint's Day is a time when we, communally, practice the spiritual discipline of love--selfless, free, and faithful love.
Thanks be to God that we have the opportunity to learn how to appreciate those we still have--and those we have yet to claim as beloved--by recollecting those we have lost.
[This friends, is the Law that comes with All Saint's Day. I am certain that you already know, or at least can guess, the Gospel that is also given to us as we remember those who have run the race, and who have received the crown of glory in Heaven.]
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Cain & Martin -or- The Genesis of Reformation
Martin Luther's neurosis was guilt and forgiveness. He was paranoid over his own sin and the condemnation he felt before the face of God. He obsessed over the search for adequate penance that would gain him forgiveness.
At the time, the Roman Church taught that it was the broker of the forgiveness Luther sought. The Church told Luther to pray so many prescribed prayers, to flog himself, to fast and to buy indulgences. The Church told him turn from marriage and worldly possessions to join the monastic orders, so that he might be perfect as his Father in heaven was perfect. The Church told him to do many things. Still, Luther was not satisfied. Martin scoured the scriptures to find the answer to his worry, his dread. Finally, he read Romans 3:19-28: "For 'no human being will be justified in his sight' by deeds prescribed by the law for through the law comes the knowledge of sin" (v. 20). And he realized that everything from the 10 Commandments to the prescription of prayers and indulgences only served to remind him of his guilt. Then, "For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (v.23). And he realized that before God's righteousness, no human being could stand except as a court defendant. Then, "...they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith" (v.24). And he realized that everything hinged on the work of Christ. Jesus was not just a defense lawyer or co-defendant or character witness or scapegoat--Jesus was the Judge that came down from the bench to stand with the guilty.
The Cross alone wiped away all of the sins of the past. But more than that, Jesus gave the chance for life, for new life. In sin, we die, and in Christ, we live. It is Jesus within us (by the power and work of the Holy Spirit), which gives us a new lease on life, so that sin does not take everything from us. What blessed joy that the sentenced criminal is given a life of freedom instead of confinement or death!!!
This idea started a reformation--the Reformation. It is a fitting name, since it applies also to the reformed criminal that is supposed to come out of our human "correctional facilities."
On this Reformation Day, as I was thinking of all of this, I thought of the story of Cain and Abel. The story is an...unlikely Reformation text. At least, I have never heard anyone link that story to the Reformation. And yet, I think it is the perfect story.
You remember that Cain murdered his brother Abel. You can read the story to discover the details, the motive, etc. (Genesis 4:1-16). I would like to focus on the punishment. But first note that the commandment against killing had not yet been given. This second generation of humans did not even know that murder or death existed. And so, it was Cain's guilt after the fact that made him realize the horrible thing he had done--the law, and guilt, give us knowledge of our sin.
Cain's punishment was that his work would be futile and he would be a fugitive on the earth. When he planted, the ground would produce no yield. And he would be forever homeless, a wanderer. Perhaps this is where the saying, "No rest for the wicked" comes from. In a culture that lives by the motto: "An eye for an eye," Cain should have been sentenced to death himself. Indeed, that is what Cain asks for, saying to God, "...I shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth, and anyone who meets me may kill me" (Gen. 4:14b). God virtually shouts "No!" And God puts a mark on Cain, so that whomever he met would know that if they killed him, they themselves would be cursed.
I find it interesting that we Christians often consider this Mark of Cain to be part of the punishment. In the story, we somehow see death as a mercy, and that God punishes Cain by making him to live on. Do you realize how messed up that is? When I read the story, especially through the lens of Luther and the Reformation, I see the Mark of Cain as an act of mercy. God was trying to preserve Cain's life. Even though Cain had to face the consequences of his murderous act--to leave his home and his vocation--the Great Judge could not bear to take the life of his human, "adopted" son.
Cain was given a life of freedom. And although he lost his former life (vocation, home, family, etc.), he went on to build another life. In fact, if you read the next bit of Genesis, you will find that Cain went to Nod, married, had children--and he started civilization!!! Scriptures say that Cain went to Nod, "away from the presence of the LORD" (v.16). And yet, God still worked through Cain to spread life upon the earth--life that was safe and protected and full in the beginnings of human civilization! Perhaps Cain tried to flee from God's presence, but it would seem that bidden or not bidden, God is present.
So, for me the story is about guilt, yes, but also forgiveness. Where others may call for our death, where we ourselves may wish for death, God gives us life. God even gives us a newness to life. We are freed from our old sinful selves in order to go on and do great, or at least good, things. (And isn't every good thing great?)
The Church is full of sinners. The Church itself is sinful. We, the Church, are Cain.
Luther's struggle with the Law, helped him to uncover some of the corruption that was eating away at the Church.
But God marks us with a mark that preserves our life.
We are marked with the Cross of Christ--in ashes and in water and in oil.
Despite our sin, God gives us life and the chance to go out and do good things to spread life throughout the earth.
The Church is also marked with the Cross. And yet the Church is commissioned to spread the Gospel of Life.
And with that mark, just like Cain, we as individuals and as the corporate Church experience a reformation.
God re-forms our lives.
God re-forms us.
May God continually re-form the Church.
Amen.
For further thought or discussion:
1. Cain's jealousy revolved around worship, and his perception that Abel's offerings were more pleasing to God. Worship, particularly the Sacrament of the Altar and the role of leaders in that worship, were some of the contentions of the Reformation. How might comparing these stories help us understand both scripture and the Reformation? What can we learn about our worship today?
2. We get from the Cain and Abel story the question: "Am I my brother's keeper?" I find it interesting that Cain was really interested in keeping track of his brother when it came to comparisons and who was more pleasing to God. But then, when Abel was in trouble, the response was--not my problem. Are we our neighbor's keeper? What is the line between judging and helping guide our neighbor along the Way? Was Martin Luther judgmental toward the church?
3. Cain's guilt and punishment seemed to throw him into despair. Although he did not seem to consider suicide, he hoped that someone would kill him (vv.13-14). When we feel guilty, we are often thrown into despair in the same way, which causes us to hide our sin or to lash out at others or to cut ourselves off from people and life. How does God react when we are thrown into despair? How does God help us? How can the Good News give us hope?
4. Civilization is built upon a murderous forefather. Obviously we are still being reformed. Discuss.
5. The Gospel approach to infractions upon the Law is different to the approach of the governments of this world. This story, and its link to the Reformation may help launch a discussion about our correctional facilities in the United States. Take a look at the ELCA's proposed social statement on criminal justice.
rha
At the time, the Roman Church taught that it was the broker of the forgiveness Luther sought. The Church told Luther to pray so many prescribed prayers, to flog himself, to fast and to buy indulgences. The Church told him turn from marriage and worldly possessions to join the monastic orders, so that he might be perfect as his Father in heaven was perfect. The Church told him to do many things. Still, Luther was not satisfied. Martin scoured the scriptures to find the answer to his worry, his dread. Finally, he read Romans 3:19-28: "For 'no human being will be justified in his sight' by deeds prescribed by the law for through the law comes the knowledge of sin" (v. 20). And he realized that everything from the 10 Commandments to the prescription of prayers and indulgences only served to remind him of his guilt. Then, "For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (v.23). And he realized that before God's righteousness, no human being could stand except as a court defendant. Then, "...they are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood, effective through faith" (v.24). And he realized that everything hinged on the work of Christ. Jesus was not just a defense lawyer or co-defendant or character witness or scapegoat--Jesus was the Judge that came down from the bench to stand with the guilty.
The Cross alone wiped away all of the sins of the past. But more than that, Jesus gave the chance for life, for new life. In sin, we die, and in Christ, we live. It is Jesus within us (by the power and work of the Holy Spirit), which gives us a new lease on life, so that sin does not take everything from us. What blessed joy that the sentenced criminal is given a life of freedom instead of confinement or death!!!
This idea started a reformation--the Reformation. It is a fitting name, since it applies also to the reformed criminal that is supposed to come out of our human "correctional facilities."
On this Reformation Day, as I was thinking of all of this, I thought of the story of Cain and Abel. The story is an...unlikely Reformation text. At least, I have never heard anyone link that story to the Reformation. And yet, I think it is the perfect story.
You remember that Cain murdered his brother Abel. You can read the story to discover the details, the motive, etc. (Genesis 4:1-16). I would like to focus on the punishment. But first note that the commandment against killing had not yet been given. This second generation of humans did not even know that murder or death existed. And so, it was Cain's guilt after the fact that made him realize the horrible thing he had done--the law, and guilt, give us knowledge of our sin.
Cain's punishment was that his work would be futile and he would be a fugitive on the earth. When he planted, the ground would produce no yield. And he would be forever homeless, a wanderer. Perhaps this is where the saying, "No rest for the wicked" comes from. In a culture that lives by the motto: "An eye for an eye," Cain should have been sentenced to death himself. Indeed, that is what Cain asks for, saying to God, "...I shall be a fugitive and a wanderer on the earth, and anyone who meets me may kill me" (Gen. 4:14b). God virtually shouts "No!" And God puts a mark on Cain, so that whomever he met would know that if they killed him, they themselves would be cursed.
I find it interesting that we Christians often consider this Mark of Cain to be part of the punishment. In the story, we somehow see death as a mercy, and that God punishes Cain by making him to live on. Do you realize how messed up that is? When I read the story, especially through the lens of Luther and the Reformation, I see the Mark of Cain as an act of mercy. God was trying to preserve Cain's life. Even though Cain had to face the consequences of his murderous act--to leave his home and his vocation--the Great Judge could not bear to take the life of his human, "adopted" son.
Cain was given a life of freedom. And although he lost his former life (vocation, home, family, etc.), he went on to build another life. In fact, if you read the next bit of Genesis, you will find that Cain went to Nod, married, had children--and he started civilization!!! Scriptures say that Cain went to Nod, "away from the presence of the LORD" (v.16). And yet, God still worked through Cain to spread life upon the earth--life that was safe and protected and full in the beginnings of human civilization! Perhaps Cain tried to flee from God's presence, but it would seem that bidden or not bidden, God is present.
So, for me the story is about guilt, yes, but also forgiveness. Where others may call for our death, where we ourselves may wish for death, God gives us life. God even gives us a newness to life. We are freed from our old sinful selves in order to go on and do great, or at least good, things. (And isn't every good thing great?)
The Church is full of sinners. The Church itself is sinful. We, the Church, are Cain.
Luther's struggle with the Law, helped him to uncover some of the corruption that was eating away at the Church.
But God marks us with a mark that preserves our life.
We are marked with the Cross of Christ--in ashes and in water and in oil.
Despite our sin, God gives us life and the chance to go out and do good things to spread life throughout the earth.
The Church is also marked with the Cross. And yet the Church is commissioned to spread the Gospel of Life.
And with that mark, just like Cain, we as individuals and as the corporate Church experience a reformation.
God re-forms our lives.
God re-forms us.
May God continually re-form the Church.
Amen.
For further thought or discussion:
1. Cain's jealousy revolved around worship, and his perception that Abel's offerings were more pleasing to God. Worship, particularly the Sacrament of the Altar and the role of leaders in that worship, were some of the contentions of the Reformation. How might comparing these stories help us understand both scripture and the Reformation? What can we learn about our worship today?
2. We get from the Cain and Abel story the question: "Am I my brother's keeper?" I find it interesting that Cain was really interested in keeping track of his brother when it came to comparisons and who was more pleasing to God. But then, when Abel was in trouble, the response was--not my problem. Are we our neighbor's keeper? What is the line between judging and helping guide our neighbor along the Way? Was Martin Luther judgmental toward the church?
3. Cain's guilt and punishment seemed to throw him into despair. Although he did not seem to consider suicide, he hoped that someone would kill him (vv.13-14). When we feel guilty, we are often thrown into despair in the same way, which causes us to hide our sin or to lash out at others or to cut ourselves off from people and life. How does God react when we are thrown into despair? How does God help us? How can the Good News give us hope?
4. Civilization is built upon a murderous forefather. Obviously we are still being reformed. Discuss.
5. The Gospel approach to infractions upon the Law is different to the approach of the governments of this world. This story, and its link to the Reformation may help launch a discussion about our correctional facilities in the United States. Take a look at the ELCA's proposed social statement on criminal justice.
rha
Thursday, October 25, 2012
"Who're You Gonna Call?" -or- Halloween: The Holy Day Christians Forgot
"Your dead shall live, their corpses shall rise.
O dwellers in the dust, awake and sing for joy!
For your dew is a radiant dew,
Come, my people, enter your chambers,
and shut your doors behind you;
hide yourselves for a little while
until the wrath is past.
For the Lord comes out from his place
to punish the inhabitants of the
earth for their iniquity;
the earth will disclose the blood shed on it,
and will no longer cover its slain."
-Isaiah 26:19-21
In my opinion, this is the quintessential Halloween scripture. After all, the image Isaiah paints here is an image of zombies clawing up from their graves, and ghosts coming to haunt the living. Meanwhile, we flee to the safety of our homes, locking our doors behind us and asking ourselves, "Who're you gonna call?"
I love Halloween. It is my favorite Christian holiday. (And it is a Christian holiday--even its name screams Christianity: all HALLOW's EvEN, or the Eve of All Saint's Day.) I love Halloween because I love that feeling of fear that comes from watching a scary movie or reading ghost stories or seeing a host of scary costumes roam about the streets at dusk. Halloween is a time when we can be scared and still feel safe. Just as a roller-coaster brings us safely to the brink of our fears of speed or falling in an enjoyable way, in the same way Halloween allows us to face other fears in our soul without falling into total terror or despair.
Yes, I think Halloween is a time when we can externalize all of the fears that haunt us the rest of the year. For example, the fear of evil. Even if we don't believe in demons or ghosts, we might all agree that evil exists and that we are vulnerable to evil things happening in our lives--the thief in the night, the attacker in the dark alley, the angry dog in our neighborhood, or the bully at school. The figures of Halloween exaggerate these dark figures, and yet at the same time help us to feel bold before them. Halloween gives us a catharsis for our fears.
Perhaps the biggest fear that Halloween allows us to face is death. Skeletons, ghosts, monsters, vampires, zombies, demons...the common fear in all of these is death. (I will let you make your own analysis of Justin Bieber, Hannah Montana and Superman costumes, though the first two in this list are just as frightening to me--the death of culture, maybe?)
The thing humans fear most, at least in our culture, is death.
We fear dying. We fear losing a loved one in death. And on Halloween, we surround ourselves with images of death in such a way that they no longer hold power over us. This, friends, taps right into the heart of the Good News.
All Saint's Day is when we remember all those who have gone before us, who now rest in God. It is a day on which Christians celebrate the lives of the saints. And it is a day on which we celebrate God's mightiest deed--for we trust that God has gathered the saints in eternal life, just as God has promised. All Saint's Day is about celebrating the victory that God has won over our Old Enemy, Death.
Ancient Christians believed that the light and power of goodness on All Saint's Day made All Hallow's Eve a dangerous time--because all of those demons and monsters and evil spirits knew that their power would be gone on All Saint's Day. And so, these malevolent forces would freak out and do as much damage as they could. People started dressing up in costume, either as saints or as demons in order to protect themselves. If you dressed as a demon, then you could walk amongst the evil spirits safely--you were incognito...and since you were one of them they wouldn't harm you. Or if you dressed as a saint or an angel, the demons would steer clear of you, because they knew they couldn't beat you.
We have left behind these superstitions. And yet the message remains. Halloween and All Saint's Day are like the story of our baptismal life. While we are in the world we walk through dark valleys, and we wait for the day when all will be light. If you have died, you are with God and protected in God's Kingdom--you have reached All Saint's Day. But if you are still alive and on earth, then there is still darkness and strife and temptation and evil--you are still only in All Hallow's Eve, waiting for daybreak. And yet, "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness--on them light has shined" (Isaiah 9:2). On Halloween we remember that when Jesus Christ is with us, we have nothing--absolutely nothing--to fear, not even the Grim Reaper himself. Christ is our light in the darkness. Christ is our shield and portion. Christ is our guardian and guide.
So let's go back and read Isaiah again, now that the light of Christ is shed on the scriptures for us. All of a sudden, those zombies aren't zombies at all. Isaiah says: "O dwellers in the dust, awake and sing for joy!" In the light, the people coming up from their graves are not zombies, but the people of God who are resurrected on the last day! We, friends, are the dwellers in the dust. Ash Wednesday teaches us that we will all die, and to dust we shall return. And here Isaiah is telling us that on that day, we will rise and sing for joy--because God will restore our lives and we will live eternally.
The Cross was scary (understatement). But the darkness of death and hell was vanquished when dawn broke on Easter Sunday.
On Halloween, we are reminded of God's action on Good Friday and Easter--especially how it applies to each of God's saints, that is, to each of us. As the earth dies back and cold winter approaches, as the days get shorter and the nights darker, we need to be reminded of God's promise of warmth, light and life. That reminder, for those with ears to hear and eyes to see, is Halloween. Halloween, the most wonderful time of the year, when the whole gospel is given to us in one fell swoop!
O, may you taste the delight of fright this All Hallow's Eve. And as you get spooked by all the things that go bump in the night, call to mind the One that is always by your side, the One who can overcome every evil, the One who can change death into life--Jesus Christ. He is the light of the world. The light no darkness can overcome.
Thanks be to God!
P.S.--Another good Bible story to share with your family on Halloween is the story of the Gerasene Demoniac (see Mark 5:1-20). [Note: Read the story like you would a ghost story around the campfire, complete with voices (and yell loud when it calls for it, to startle your audience!).]
It is a story in which Jesus has command over evil, and he uses his power to restore a man to life. Possible questions:
1. Why were the people afraid of Jesus, so afraid of him that they asked him to leave their neighborhood?
2. What happened to the demon-possessed man after Jesus healed him?
3. What are we called to do when God helps us through scary times in our lives?
And for further Discussion:
- Have you ever felt scared? What made you frightened?
- Think of a time when you were scared. What or who made you feel better? Why? How, then, can God help us when we are scared?
Thursday, October 4, 2012
The Grace Found in a Prank -or- God is a Trickster
Last weekend, some seminary friends visited from Chicago. The occasion was my installation as pastor of St. John’s Lutheran Church, Toluca, IL. I gave them a tour of the parsonage, my home. It was a busy day with family and church family, so I didn’t notice how they tended to linger in various rooms. After they departed, I found that they had...altered things. They left notes in my office--one saying they had also deposited a snake for me to find...or to find me, I suppose. My bed was short-sheeted. My remote controls for the TV and DVD player were missing. Books were rearranged on the shelves in my library. I am still finding things out of place. I had been thoroughly pranked.
I am not one much for pranks. I am neither good at nor fain to prank others, and I usually don’t enjoy being pranked. But this time, I am reluctant to admit, I loved it. And it got me thinking about pranks, and their goodness.
The pranks my friends played were not hurtful or mean, per se. A couple were rather more annoying than the others, but it is nice to be annoyed from time to time. The pranks were meant to be gestures of love--believe it or not. By that I mean, these friends took the time to mess with me, and they trusted that I would react in good humor.
As I reflect, the prank has the following properties and effects:
I suppose I could go on, but I will leave off on the analysis of the prank for now. In any event, meditating on the pranks of my friends, I started to think about how God is a prankster. I wrote this some six years ago for an assignment in preaching class. I use the words “prankster” and “trickster” synonymously. The point, of course, is that God is a trickster that not only wants to remind us of our powerlessness and vulnerability (that all of our plans and considerations and categories are in vain), but God wants to remind us of this in ways that will make us comfortable with being who we are...comfortable with being what God created us to be: merely human. And lastly, the Prankster does what the Prankster does in order to invite us into the joke--into joy and relationship and interaction. Every prankster loves a partner...every prankster loves it when the one being pranked gives it back a little (of course, no one likes someone who pranks too well.)
Anyway, I hope you enjoy, here it is:
I am not one much for pranks. I am neither good at nor fain to prank others, and I usually don’t enjoy being pranked. But this time, I am reluctant to admit, I loved it. And it got me thinking about pranks, and their goodness.
The pranks my friends played were not hurtful or mean, per se. A couple were rather more annoying than the others, but it is nice to be annoyed from time to time. The pranks were meant to be gestures of love--believe it or not. By that I mean, these friends took the time to mess with me, and they trusted that I would react in good humor.
As I reflect, the prank has the following properties and effects:
1. In pranking me, my friends gave a great deal of attention to me, my habits, and my stuff. They targeted, and moved, those things that were of especial importance to me.
2. In pranking me, my friends showed their trust. They trusted our relationship, that it would survive despite some minor annoyances and material adjustments. They trusted my personality, that I would see the humor in their gestures and wouldn’t fly off the handle.
3. In pranking me, my friends crossed the boundaries of solitude. They studied and interacted with my things, and with my habits. They studied my environment closely. They also crossed over into my vulnerability.
4. Finding that I was pranked, I was able to laugh at my friends and their ridiculous sense of humor, but also I was able to laugh at myself. I was able to laugh at my own discomfort with having my stuff messed with. And I was able to laugh, imagining how gleeful my friends must have been as they did all of these things.
5. The pranks were the lingering presence of my friends long after they had left. The prank is evidence that someone has been here, someone has come so close to another individual that their life is altered, both in the superficial way, and in a more profound way. And finding something new amiss each day, made me think of my friends...and miss them...and appreciate their visit.
6. Pranks, at their best, create an enjoyment of life, particularly the mundane parts of life. And, again at their best, pranks allow us to laugh at the most despairing and dreadful thing in life: our all too human vulnerability and lack of control over the world around us. That laughter helps reconcile us to our all too human condition.
I suppose I could go on, but I will leave off on the analysis of the prank for now. In any event, meditating on the pranks of my friends, I started to think about how God is a prankster. I wrote this some six years ago for an assignment in preaching class. I use the words “prankster” and “trickster” synonymously. The point, of course, is that God is a trickster that not only wants to remind us of our powerlessness and vulnerability (that all of our plans and considerations and categories are in vain), but God wants to remind us of this in ways that will make us comfortable with being who we are...comfortable with being what God created us to be: merely human. And lastly, the Prankster does what the Prankster does in order to invite us into the joke--into joy and relationship and interaction. Every prankster loves a partner...every prankster loves it when the one being pranked gives it back a little (of course, no one likes someone who pranks too well.)
Anyway, I hope you enjoy, here it is:
I have decided that God is, at heart, a trickster.
And this is a biblical view of God.
Christians ought to reclaim that word…”trickster.”
God is not a scoundrel, though he associates with them.
God does not lie, cheat or steal, though he hangs out with the crowd that does.
In fact, if God were not God, none of us would believe; who would trust anyone who reputedly
socializes with rascals, sinners and scoundrels?
socializes with rascals, sinners and scoundrels?
God loves pranks:
Remember when Jacob stole the blessing of his brother?
Esau ought to be given what is his; who does Jacob think he is? Yet God favored Jacob.
Remember when God crowned David, the progeny of a woman who prostituted herself off to her
father-in-law in order to produce a child and heir?
father-in-law in order to produce a child and heir?
Yet David, Solomon and, yes, even Jesus came from the bold, morally questionable
cleverness of Tamar. (No wonder we need to tell ourselves stories of Mary’s purity!)
God is a trickster, all right.
Not the sort that plays jokes on the powerless just for a mean laugh.
Not the sort of trickster that feels mirth in the suffering of others.
Instead God is the trickster that laughs at the haughty and the dreadfully powerful.
God revels in the unexpected and the paradoxical.
God’s possibilities are so much greater than our narrow expectations that most of life becomes ironic…
well, from our perspective.
well, from our perspective.
God experiences joy when we figure out that God doesn’t play by the rules of our game.
How ridiculous! A king born in a cow’s food trough?
Later the baby-man would say: “I am the bread of life.” We eat the flesh...maybe the food trough was
a good choice after all.
a good choice after all.
Go play with God; enjoy the mischief of the deity!
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