Creation is a glorious mystery. I live in an area of California where there are redwoods and eucalyptus. I love the smell of eucalyptus, the seeds that look like tea cups. Redwoods are just amazing -- is there any plant as tall and majestic? 25 years ago, when my daughter Celia was born, we planted a redwood out in front of her grandmother's house where a dying tree once stood. Today, that tree soars over the tiny white cottage on the hill and the plush neighborhood where it stands. What is amazing is that it came from a seed I can hold in the palm of my hand.
Life comes from a spark of almost nothing and becomes something extraordinary.
Where the seeds are planted and nurtured make a big difference.
The Gospel for Sunday, July, 13, is the first of three lections from Matthew 13 consisting of parables, the the third major body of Jesus' teachings found in this Gospel, the first being the Sermon on the Mount and the other, the Mission Charge.
Okay, so what's a parable?
It's a tool for teaching that Jesus used - they are powerful, because what stays in the memory better than a good story?
But these are stories that allow the listener to teach themselves. Jesus' parables are disorienting; they turn society as we know it on it's head, takes us out of the predictable and comfortable and challenges us to look deeper, closer.
The "Parable of the Sower" tells us of seeds that are planted in different ground - the seeds are tossed; some seeds fell on pavement; some seeds fell in rocky ground; more seed fell into bracken, thorns and weeds, and finally, seeds fell into good soil.
What happens to the seeds, the seed that fell on pavement, or path? They were eaten by the birds immediately, And the seeds that fell on rocky ground? Well, they sprang up but there was no depth for their roots and they withered and died, How about the seeds that fell into the thorns? Choked. Finally, the seeds that fell into good soil? Can you guess? They produce grain in hundredfolds, and them some!
So which seed are you?
That's the point of this parable. Our ears hear an allegory - the seed is Logos, the word of God through Christ. The seeds represent we children of God and how we respond to the teaching of Jesus.
Let's see if I can get this right:
The seed on the path is the person who doesn't want to hear; the seed on rocky ground is the person who wants to get it, tries hard at it, then gives up for whatever reason. It's just too hard. The seed in the thorns might be someone in the wrong crowd, who cannot hear, tries, but is suffocated by their own worries and life; and the seed in the good soil - that's not hard to figure out. That's someone who hears and takes it to heart; let's the word of the Lord and the invitation of Christ to be nurtured and it grows so that the word is spread to everyone that good seed knows and sees, and it continues to reap a good harvest.
Jesus told these stories to get people to think harder about their lives, their relationships with God and people, to look at the Kingdom of Heaven through a different lens, take an understanding of it as a way of being and acting, other than a physical place.
The Kingdom of Heaven is like . . .
well, what do you think it is like?
How will you sow the Word of God so that it may reap in a hundredfold, twenty, thirty, believers ready to make the Kingdom of Heaven a place for all to come and sit down at the table?
Go in peace!
Ellen+
19 July, 2008
09 July, 2008
Yokes That Are Tailored to Fit
I've been off the radar for the last couple of weeks due to a nasty infection - oral surgery is not one of my favorite pastimes. During an uncomfortable time, Jesus' words offered a lot of comfort. When I don't have the strength, or am in pain, there's someone to lean on.This last Sunday's gospel from Matthew 11:16-18, 28-30 is one of those passages in the Christian scripture that despite Jesus' denunciation of Bethsaida, Chorazin and Capernum, he invites us to come to him that our burdens may be lifted from our shoulders, and how beautiful the invitation is:
"Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble
in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
(Matthew 11:28-30).
Such a deal, one might think! I can just let Jesus take care of everything.
It's this deacon's opinion that nah, don't think so.
Jesus offers a shoulder to lean on, but I think he would expect that in dark times, in times of uncertainty, frustration, fear and pain, we turn to Him for guidance, to learn from His example. And while we're being offered support, maybe that will give us time to put matters to prayer and have the strength to act on whatever we're being called to do in Christ's name. From Jesus of Nazareth we can model His new command-ment - love one another as Christ loves us.
I often quote this and mention it in conversation and sermons and in my writing, but it bears repeating, that and his paraphrasing of Deuteronomy 10:12-15 at Mark 12:29-30 and Matthew 22:34-40:
"The most important one," {commandment} answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind and with all your strength. ' The second is this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than this."(Mark 12:29-30)
Loving your neighbor, whether a friend, a stranger, or a co-worker with which you barely share three words in one day, is difficult. Love comes more easily if we let our egos and human frailty, our tendencies to want to be first, and our search for perfection in beauty and mind, to be the center of the universe. And that's where Jesus' yoke comes into play. Yokes are those harnesses that go over the shoulders of an ox or horse to keep them attached to a wagon, cart, or plow. It's used to help bear heavy loads. Made of hardwood, they're pretty heavy - but not as heavy as the cross-beam Jesus carried on humanity�s behalf in his exhausted state to Golgotha. Once we get out of the blinding sun of our own wants and needs, and step into the shadow Jesus we are able to take up the yoke � one made with Jesus' support and the strength of love and faith, of submitting our hearts, souls and minds to the ever-present, ever powerful, unconditional love of God and loving Christ as we love the Father.Go in peace, dear ones!With God's love and mine, Ellen+
29 June, 2008
Comfort Food - for Thought
“Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all who truly turn to him.”
Do you find anything comforting or comfortable in the Gospel lesson this morning? Jesus is asking us to go beyond our safe, comfortable circle of friends and reach out to strangers. Didn’t Mom tell us not to talk to strangers? How about the Hebrew scripture? Pretty disturbing. And the passage from Paul’s letter to the church at Rome? The word ‘sin’ is mentioned ten times, that’s once in ten verses out of twelve, though one of the verses mentions ‘impurity’, and another mentions ‘shame.’
Sometimes we have to read and hear the uncomfortable words to hear what God and Christ say to all who truly turn to them.
Let’s see if we can find the good news among the bad.
How do we reconcile the loving God of the Christian scripture, the deity in the person of Jesus who bids us welcome prophets and little ones, people on the fringes of society, with a God that tells a father to kill his son? Let me answer that by asking this: do you really think God wanted Abraham to sacrifice Isaac?
The story begins with the sentence, “After these things, God tested Abraham.” These things were God’s calling of Abraham, his journey with Sarah into Egypt, passing his wife off as his sister to the Pharoah, and there was Sodom and Gomorrah, Hagar and Ishmael – how many tests can a person take? Abraham is rightly held up as a person of great faith, but he has his moments of weakness, and he has his shortcomings – passing his wife off as his sister? Twice? He’s an enigma. He pleads with God over sparing, fifty, then forty, then twenty, then ten righteous people in Sodom and Gomorrah, many perfect strangers, but he says nothing about sparing his son.
I was thinking that while God was testing Abraham, maybe Abraham was testing God. Or maybe it’s one of those moments when one is so frozen by fear, so horrified, that the shock leads to inactivity.
Our narrative is stark. We have no indication of Abraham’s state of mind. As soon as Abraham hears the command, he cuts the wood for the offering, takes his son, two servants and donkey and heads out for Moriah. He’s silent until they reach their destination three days later when he tells the servants to wait for them while Abraham and Isaac go up on the mountain to pray. Here, the narrator hints that Abraham prepared for the sacrifice methodically – first he builds the altar, then he lays the wood that Isaac has been carrying – maybe he stalling for time? Waiting for that call at 11:55 p.m. to stay the execution.
Then we have a heart-wrenching moment. Isaac notices that they haven’t brought a lamb for the sacrifice and asks his father about it. Abraham says, “God will provide.”
He raises the knife . . . it’s like watching a movie. You want to yell at the screen, “Turn around, Abraham! There’s a ram caught in the thicket! See? God does provide!”
This story has a happy ending. Abraham is stopped from murdering his son by an angel. Isaac grows up to become the father of a great people. This is the last test God gives Abraham.
Many questions are unanswered here. Did Abraham pass the test, or did he fail? Is his failure the reason why God no longer spoke to him, or had Abraham served his purpose? Did God want Abraham to stand up to Him with the same passion he used for Sodom and Gomorrah to ask why he was being asked to sacrifice his son?
I don’t have the answers; I have my own theories, as do we all, but I’ll let you decide in your own dialogues with God. It’s a copout, but I’m still wrestling with these questions and someday I might just have the answers – or not. I do know this. God only gives us as much as we can handle. He knows our hearts and minds and what we can or cannot do.
What we can surmise is that God surely understood Abraham’s feelings when He sacrificed his son, Jesus.
The truth of the matter is that we are all tested by God, aren’t we? Perhaps not in the dramatic ways that Abraham was put to the test. Why are there floods in the Midwest destroying lives and homes when God gave us the rainbow? Why does a complete stranger shoot and kill a family at an intersection? Why does a father kill his toddler on a road out in the country? Why do we still argue over gender? Why is race still such a hot button? Why is gas so expensive and why is there a global food crisis? These are tests of the heart, soul and mind. And in this morning’s Gospel, Jesus throws a challenge at us. He tells his disciples, and us, that whoever welcomes a prophet or little one welcomes him. We know from history and scripture that prophets are those noisy, confrontational types who tells us truths we don’t want to hear, and they don’t make the best of ends, but they open our hearts and minds to reality and how things are supposed to be. Think of John the Baptist, Stephen, Perpetua and her companions, Jesus, Martin Luther King, Jr. Little ones might be children or people outside of the norm of society, what we might call the ‘fringe element’ We are asked to welcome them, make them a part of our community, give to them as Jesus would give to us. It’s not hard to be welcoming. The effort comes in being welcoming those society thinks are not welcome to the table. Giving a cup of water to a little one, or a hot meal to someone who’s hungry, or listening, really listening to a message offered by a prophet – that’s easy enough. Doing it because we love God and we want to live out the Gospel – now that’s where it really is at. Righteous people aren’t holier than others, righteous people are you and me, in a covenant with God and Jesus, chosen, called, tested – sometimes we get it right, sometimes we don’t, but there’s always another chance to get it right – the right way that God wants us to take to the best of our abilities. Righteous people are people who say yes to God, even when it’s the most difficult thing they have to do in their lives.
And no matter what, God loves us and welcomes us into the Kingdom – prophets, little ones, the righteous, you and me.
I hope you find some comfort in that.
Do you find anything comforting or comfortable in the Gospel lesson this morning? Jesus is asking us to go beyond our safe, comfortable circle of friends and reach out to strangers. Didn’t Mom tell us not to talk to strangers? How about the Hebrew scripture? Pretty disturbing. And the passage from Paul’s letter to the church at Rome? The word ‘sin’ is mentioned ten times, that’s once in ten verses out of twelve, though one of the verses mentions ‘impurity’, and another mentions ‘shame.’
Sometimes we have to read and hear the uncomfortable words to hear what God and Christ say to all who truly turn to them.
Let’s see if we can find the good news among the bad.
How do we reconcile the loving God of the Christian scripture, the deity in the person of Jesus who bids us welcome prophets and little ones, people on the fringes of society, with a God that tells a father to kill his son? Let me answer that by asking this: do you really think God wanted Abraham to sacrifice Isaac?
The story begins with the sentence, “After these things, God tested Abraham.” These things were God’s calling of Abraham, his journey with Sarah into Egypt, passing his wife off as his sister to the Pharoah, and there was Sodom and Gomorrah, Hagar and Ishmael – how many tests can a person take? Abraham is rightly held up as a person of great faith, but he has his moments of weakness, and he has his shortcomings – passing his wife off as his sister? Twice? He’s an enigma. He pleads with God over sparing, fifty, then forty, then twenty, then ten righteous people in Sodom and Gomorrah, many perfect strangers, but he says nothing about sparing his son.
I was thinking that while God was testing Abraham, maybe Abraham was testing God. Or maybe it’s one of those moments when one is so frozen by fear, so horrified, that the shock leads to inactivity.
Our narrative is stark. We have no indication of Abraham’s state of mind. As soon as Abraham hears the command, he cuts the wood for the offering, takes his son, two servants and donkey and heads out for Moriah. He’s silent until they reach their destination three days later when he tells the servants to wait for them while Abraham and Isaac go up on the mountain to pray. Here, the narrator hints that Abraham prepared for the sacrifice methodically – first he builds the altar, then he lays the wood that Isaac has been carrying – maybe he stalling for time? Waiting for that call at 11:55 p.m. to stay the execution.
Then we have a heart-wrenching moment. Isaac notices that they haven’t brought a lamb for the sacrifice and asks his father about it. Abraham says, “God will provide.”
He raises the knife . . . it’s like watching a movie. You want to yell at the screen, “Turn around, Abraham! There’s a ram caught in the thicket! See? God does provide!”
This story has a happy ending. Abraham is stopped from murdering his son by an angel. Isaac grows up to become the father of a great people. This is the last test God gives Abraham.
Many questions are unanswered here. Did Abraham pass the test, or did he fail? Is his failure the reason why God no longer spoke to him, or had Abraham served his purpose? Did God want Abraham to stand up to Him with the same passion he used for Sodom and Gomorrah to ask why he was being asked to sacrifice his son?
I don’t have the answers; I have my own theories, as do we all, but I’ll let you decide in your own dialogues with God. It’s a copout, but I’m still wrestling with these questions and someday I might just have the answers – or not. I do know this. God only gives us as much as we can handle. He knows our hearts and minds and what we can or cannot do.
What we can surmise is that God surely understood Abraham’s feelings when He sacrificed his son, Jesus.
The truth of the matter is that we are all tested by God, aren’t we? Perhaps not in the dramatic ways that Abraham was put to the test. Why are there floods in the Midwest destroying lives and homes when God gave us the rainbow? Why does a complete stranger shoot and kill a family at an intersection? Why does a father kill his toddler on a road out in the country? Why do we still argue over gender? Why is race still such a hot button? Why is gas so expensive and why is there a global food crisis? These are tests of the heart, soul and mind. And in this morning’s Gospel, Jesus throws a challenge at us. He tells his disciples, and us, that whoever welcomes a prophet or little one welcomes him. We know from history and scripture that prophets are those noisy, confrontational types who tells us truths we don’t want to hear, and they don’t make the best of ends, but they open our hearts and minds to reality and how things are supposed to be. Think of John the Baptist, Stephen, Perpetua and her companions, Jesus, Martin Luther King, Jr. Little ones might be children or people outside of the norm of society, what we might call the ‘fringe element’ We are asked to welcome them, make them a part of our community, give to them as Jesus would give to us. It’s not hard to be welcoming. The effort comes in being welcoming those society thinks are not welcome to the table. Giving a cup of water to a little one, or a hot meal to someone who’s hungry, or listening, really listening to a message offered by a prophet – that’s easy enough. Doing it because we love God and we want to live out the Gospel – now that’s where it really is at. Righteous people aren’t holier than others, righteous people are you and me, in a covenant with God and Jesus, chosen, called, tested – sometimes we get it right, sometimes we don’t, but there’s always another chance to get it right – the right way that God wants us to take to the best of our abilities. Righteous people are people who say yes to God, even when it’s the most difficult thing they have to do in their lives.
And no matter what, God loves us and welcomes us into the Kingdom – prophets, little ones, the righteous, you and me.
I hope you find some comfort in that.
15 June, 2008
The Great Commission
This morning the apostles, Peter to Judas, received their marching orders. In the scripture passage from Matthew, Jesus takes the twelve aside and gives them specific instructions for their ministry out in the world. They are to proclaim the good news and perform works of God for the lost sheep of Israel - this is in line with his comments to the Pharisees earlier, when they asked why he dined with people on the edges of society, that the healthy have no need of healing, but the sick.
Imagine a conversation on a road somewhere in Judea. Suppose you're a tax collector, a leper, a woman, a woman of ill repute, a slave and you're sitting outside the town walls hoping for a crust of bread, a kind word, maybe even a coin - even the Emperor's coin. How strange would it be for you to be approached by a stranger who calls you friend and offers you food and drink, starts to tell you about the Kingdom of Heaven? Come to think of it, what if you were the stranger and charged with starting that dialogue?
This is unlike anything you've done or witnessed before. There's something new, something revolutionary here.
Imagine the emotions roiling through you.
How would you respond to such a conversation?
How would you begin such a conversation?
I don't know about you, but I'd start by saying, "Hello." It's usually the safest way to begin, isn't it?
The conversation could start with the weather, how someone is doing, and eventually it comes round to this different and bold vision of how the world should be, the vision of Jesus of Nazareth. Maybe after a few moments of conversation, if you're the person outside the walls, you start to think, perhaps get excited about what you're hearing and ask to hear more. Or, if you're the apostle sent on a mission, you begin to relax and realize that evangelism doesn't have to be heavy-handed or frightening, or all or nothing, but a gradual, informal give and take of ideas. Soon it becomes natural.
I'm not suggesting that accepting the great commission to proclaim the Gospel and live it out is easy. On the contrary; I believe it's just as difficult now in our post-modern society as it was in the first century.
How do we impart a message of unconditional love and acceptance, of mutual respect for people and respect for all of creation?
Well, you're reading this, aren't you? That's one way.
Wake every morning and think of being generous with your heart and resources as you are able. These little seeds of optimism and love will take root, just as the twelve apostles' work took root and continues growing today.
Go in peace,
Ellen+
Imagine a conversation on a road somewhere in Judea. Suppose you're a tax collector, a leper, a woman, a woman of ill repute, a slave and you're sitting outside the town walls hoping for a crust of bread, a kind word, maybe even a coin - even the Emperor's coin. How strange would it be for you to be approached by a stranger who calls you friend and offers you food and drink, starts to tell you about the Kingdom of Heaven? Come to think of it, what if you were the stranger and charged with starting that dialogue?
This is unlike anything you've done or witnessed before. There's something new, something revolutionary here.
Imagine the emotions roiling through you.
How would you respond to such a conversation?
How would you begin such a conversation?
I don't know about you, but I'd start by saying, "Hello." It's usually the safest way to begin, isn't it?
The conversation could start with the weather, how someone is doing, and eventually it comes round to this different and bold vision of how the world should be, the vision of Jesus of Nazareth. Maybe after a few moments of conversation, if you're the person outside the walls, you start to think, perhaps get excited about what you're hearing and ask to hear more. Or, if you're the apostle sent on a mission, you begin to relax and realize that evangelism doesn't have to be heavy-handed or frightening, or all or nothing, but a gradual, informal give and take of ideas. Soon it becomes natural.
I'm not suggesting that accepting the great commission to proclaim the Gospel and live it out is easy. On the contrary; I believe it's just as difficult now in our post-modern society as it was in the first century.
How do we impart a message of unconditional love and acceptance, of mutual respect for people and respect for all of creation?
Well, you're reading this, aren't you? That's one way.
Wake every morning and think of being generous with your heart and resources as you are able. These little seeds of optimism and love will take root, just as the twelve apostles' work took root and continues growing today.
Go in peace,
Ellen+
04 June, 2008
Wandering In From a Spiritual Desert
I've been in a desert of sorts.
A few of my friends ask why I feel I'm having difficulty connecting with God; after all, who's my Daddy?
The last weeks have been painful - spiritually. I haven't felt God's presence, nor can I hear the Word.
Having one's hands annointed, being consecrated an ordained leader, wearing all the trappings on Sunday mornings and holidays doesn't guarantee instant spiritual connection or enlightenment.
What it does guarantee are moments of uncertainty, doubt, loneliness - just like everybody else.
I keep asking why? I keep asking where are you? When I meditate and use the image of the walk in the forest, there's a boulder in the path - like the giant stone rolled in front of the entrance of Jesus' tomb, or the giant marble that chased Indiana Jones in "Raiders of the Lost Ark". Let me give you a back story.
When I begin my contemplative prayer, I close my eyes and put myself on a path leading into a forest from a field of wheat. I walk through the forest on the path, heading toward a gate, beyond which is a clearing that leads down hill into a valley where there's a castle (well, there'd have to be a castle if it's my imagery, right?) and a village surrounded by hills and lush greenery. It's my goal to pass through the gate and go down to the castle.
I've only reached the gate once.
Lately, as I walk on this path in my mind and heart, the boulder is in the way. There's no way around it. The trees are too thick to walk around and the boulder is too heavy to move.
So I've been trying again and again to walk through this path.
A few minutes ago, while typing the foregoing, it hit me.
I'M THE BOULDER IN THE PATH.
I'm preventing my spiritual connection and journey.
I've let my unhappiness and loneliness build up a wall of sorts to God, when all I need to do is let God.
I need to let it be.
With God's love and mine,
Ellen+
A few of my friends ask why I feel I'm having difficulty connecting with God; after all, who's my Daddy?
The last weeks have been painful - spiritually. I haven't felt God's presence, nor can I hear the Word.
Having one's hands annointed, being consecrated an ordained leader, wearing all the trappings on Sunday mornings and holidays doesn't guarantee instant spiritual connection or enlightenment.
What it does guarantee are moments of uncertainty, doubt, loneliness - just like everybody else.
I keep asking why? I keep asking where are you? When I meditate and use the image of the walk in the forest, there's a boulder in the path - like the giant stone rolled in front of the entrance of Jesus' tomb, or the giant marble that chased Indiana Jones in "Raiders of the Lost Ark". Let me give you a back story.
When I begin my contemplative prayer, I close my eyes and put myself on a path leading into a forest from a field of wheat. I walk through the forest on the path, heading toward a gate, beyond which is a clearing that leads down hill into a valley where there's a castle (well, there'd have to be a castle if it's my imagery, right?) and a village surrounded by hills and lush greenery. It's my goal to pass through the gate and go down to the castle.
I've only reached the gate once.
Lately, as I walk on this path in my mind and heart, the boulder is in the way. There's no way around it. The trees are too thick to walk around and the boulder is too heavy to move.
So I've been trying again and again to walk through this path.
A few minutes ago, while typing the foregoing, it hit me.
I'M THE BOULDER IN THE PATH.
I'm preventing my spiritual connection and journey.
I've let my unhappiness and loneliness build up a wall of sorts to God, when all I need to do is let God.
I need to let it be.
With God's love and mine,
Ellen+
12 May, 2008
Leaving the Upper Room
In the beginning, God created humankind from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man and women became living beings. Then God blew a breath into Israel, and as Ezekiel tells us, their dead bones came to life. At Pentecost, the culmination of fifty great days, God's breath, a wind, breathes life into the new people of God – the church.
How, in this post-modern, secular world, does God breathe life into us so that we can proclaim the Gospel of Christ? How does the Holy Spirit light the fires in our hearts and minds?
We are Californians, Americans, citizens of other nations living, working and studying here, we are Native American, African, Asian, European, variations on these, and more. Each of us, in our own language, hears the Good News. And each of us, in our own manner, proclaims the Gospel, sometimes, as Brother Francis said once, actually using words – that is how it happened for the apostles in the upper room.
I can't imagine what it would have been like for the followers of Jesus in those first fifty days. They met in a place that was secure, familiar, where they broke bread with Jesus, and where he appeared to them, as in the Gospel of John, where he breathes on them and bestows the Holy Spirit, charging them to forgive sins, commissioning Peter to tend his flock, feed his sheep. This can't be done from the security of the upper room. It has to be done out in the world – a place where they were in danger by association.
Perhaps they doubted their abilities and Jesus wasn't there to lead them, to tell them when they didn't get it, or praise them when they did.
How powerful then, how extraordinary, that they each begin to speak of God's deeds and powers by proclaiming them in the tongues of the people in the crowd? I think the wind and fire that descended in that room, these symbols of God's presence, also gave them the courage to leave that room and begin a ministry that would become the Church as you and I know it. Fires were lit in their hearts and minds and full of confidence, energy, they went out into the streets of Jerusalem where they were accused of being drunk at nine in the morning.
Jesus said this would happen, it would have to happen and it wouldn't be easy. It would have been easy to continue meeting in the upper room, to have people come to them, but what would they do when the room couldn't hold any more people? The body of Christ wasn't for safe quarters behind locked doors – it was meant for people and places beyond Jerusalem. It had life breathed into it with fire and wind. The church was for everyone. Unfortunately, throughout our common history, that spirit was mistaken by some as something for only those who prayed a certain way, believed a certain doctrine, to be held close in upper rooms, a personal messiah. Private spirituality has its place and practice, and I embrace it, but it is out there in the streets, and in the world, that the Church belongs. Because of this relationship, there are bumps in the road that we have to negotiate as best we can – differences of opinion and doctrine that can divide, or even better, bring us together. And we have the Holy Spirit, the breath of God, to guide us. How does the Holy Spirit inspire us to proclaim and live out the Gospel in this post-modern, busy, secular world?
She is the spark that makes us sit up and listen, pay attention, when we hear the Word, discovering in it a commonality with our daily lives, something that makes us say, "Yes, that's what the Kingdom of Heaven is like! It's like my office when we jump in and help someone else with a project, when we make a collection for someone in trouble or sick; it's like my church when we feed the hungry; it's when we show kindness and love to one another just because we want to, not for ulterior motives or to receive something in kind. She is the tongue of fire resting above our heads, encouraging and guiding us to follow the great commandment.
The Holy Spirit reveals Jesus to all who look for him, and brings us into a right relationship with God that in turn, opens us to relationships with each other that are loving and nurturing. It is this same Spirit that is alive in the water of baptism, the bread and wine of our common meal, the oil of healing and chrism. The Spirit resides within each of us while at prayer and leads us out of this our very own Upper Room, this nave, to do Christ's work in the world, to push us beyond what we expect of ourselves, beyond our abilities, and comfort zones.
I don't know about you, but I'm ready to step out of that upper room and take it into the streets.
How, in this post-modern, secular world, does God breathe life into us so that we can proclaim the Gospel of Christ? How does the Holy Spirit light the fires in our hearts and minds?
We are Californians, Americans, citizens of other nations living, working and studying here, we are Native American, African, Asian, European, variations on these, and more. Each of us, in our own language, hears the Good News. And each of us, in our own manner, proclaims the Gospel, sometimes, as Brother Francis said once, actually using words – that is how it happened for the apostles in the upper room.
I can't imagine what it would have been like for the followers of Jesus in those first fifty days. They met in a place that was secure, familiar, where they broke bread with Jesus, and where he appeared to them, as in the Gospel of John, where he breathes on them and bestows the Holy Spirit, charging them to forgive sins, commissioning Peter to tend his flock, feed his sheep. This can't be done from the security of the upper room. It has to be done out in the world – a place where they were in danger by association.
Perhaps they doubted their abilities and Jesus wasn't there to lead them, to tell them when they didn't get it, or praise them when they did.
How powerful then, how extraordinary, that they each begin to speak of God's deeds and powers by proclaiming them in the tongues of the people in the crowd? I think the wind and fire that descended in that room, these symbols of God's presence, also gave them the courage to leave that room and begin a ministry that would become the Church as you and I know it. Fires were lit in their hearts and minds and full of confidence, energy, they went out into the streets of Jerusalem where they were accused of being drunk at nine in the morning.
Jesus said this would happen, it would have to happen and it wouldn't be easy. It would have been easy to continue meeting in the upper room, to have people come to them, but what would they do when the room couldn't hold any more people? The body of Christ wasn't for safe quarters behind locked doors – it was meant for people and places beyond Jerusalem. It had life breathed into it with fire and wind. The church was for everyone. Unfortunately, throughout our common history, that spirit was mistaken by some as something for only those who prayed a certain way, believed a certain doctrine, to be held close in upper rooms, a personal messiah. Private spirituality has its place and practice, and I embrace it, but it is out there in the streets, and in the world, that the Church belongs. Because of this relationship, there are bumps in the road that we have to negotiate as best we can – differences of opinion and doctrine that can divide, or even better, bring us together. And we have the Holy Spirit, the breath of God, to guide us. How does the Holy Spirit inspire us to proclaim and live out the Gospel in this post-modern, busy, secular world?
She is the spark that makes us sit up and listen, pay attention, when we hear the Word, discovering in it a commonality with our daily lives, something that makes us say, "Yes, that's what the Kingdom of Heaven is like! It's like my office when we jump in and help someone else with a project, when we make a collection for someone in trouble or sick; it's like my church when we feed the hungry; it's when we show kindness and love to one another just because we want to, not for ulterior motives or to receive something in kind. She is the tongue of fire resting above our heads, encouraging and guiding us to follow the great commandment.
The Holy Spirit reveals Jesus to all who look for him, and brings us into a right relationship with God that in turn, opens us to relationships with each other that are loving and nurturing. It is this same Spirit that is alive in the water of baptism, the bread and wine of our common meal, the oil of healing and chrism. The Spirit resides within each of us while at prayer and leads us out of this our very own Upper Room, this nave, to do Christ's work in the world, to push us beyond what we expect of ourselves, beyond our abilities, and comfort zones.
I don't know about you, but I'm ready to step out of that upper room and take it into the streets.
13 April, 2008
Shepherds
Today is the fourth of Sunday of Easter, traditionally called "Good Shepherd Sunday." The gospel from John focused on Jesus' exhortation that he is the shepherd and he knows his sheep, that those who enter the fold by the gate are true sheep, and those who enter via the window or over the fence, as it were are theives and bandits.
It's hard to look at this text in context. As one of my friends and parishioners noted this morning at coffee hour, even during Jesus' time it might have been hard for the followers of Jesus to get the allegory of Jesus being the shepherd of a flock, afterall, they were poor urban folk living in Jerusalem, fishermen of Capernaum or Magdala, and Jesus was a carpenter from Nazareth.
Shepherds lived a lonely, solitary life. They brought the sheep out to the pastures beyond the villages and towns, and stayed there all day, watching over their charges to keep them safe from wolves and/or poachers, sometimes staying away from civilization for days and weeks. The shepherds knew their flock, and the sheep knew their shepherd. The shepherd attends his flock with the diligence and care of a father for his children.
Knowing this, seeing Jesus as the Good Shepherd isn't impossible. Jesus came into the world to gather God's children to him, to bring them to the fold, the Kingdom, and lead them to a way of life that it is harmonious with creation. He warns his first century listeners to be wary of those who claim to have the answers, to have the right way of life, for they are the thieves and bandits who jump over the wall or go through a window to get into the fold, rather than follow Jesus through the gate.
Today, the shepherd is as foreign to us as a knight on horseback or a Hobbit. We don't have occasion to see them on our commutes to work and school, not most of us, anyway. Still, the message Jesus offers is worth noting. It's in our best interest to be wary of those who say they have the answers, the secrets to life, those who invite us to get rich quick, to be the alpha dog, the leader of the pack. Strange, as I was typing this, a television commercial was playing in the living room and the jingle went something like, "I want it all . . . I want it all . . . I want it now." Is this the message we want to convey? Having the most doesn't get you into the Kingdom, having all the answers to the most puzzling questions in the universe may get you a spot on a game show, but it doesn't guarantee a place at the table, or a room in the Father's house. Hearing the Word, sharing it, living a life in right relationship and taking right action, a life modelling the gospel to one's best ability invites us to join the fold, to enter by the gate. In this way, we can be shepherds like Jesus. Or if we must be sheep, we will know who our shepherd is.
Alleluia, He is risen.
Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.
Ellen+
It's hard to look at this text in context. As one of my friends and parishioners noted this morning at coffee hour, even during Jesus' time it might have been hard for the followers of Jesus to get the allegory of Jesus being the shepherd of a flock, afterall, they were poor urban folk living in Jerusalem, fishermen of Capernaum or Magdala, and Jesus was a carpenter from Nazareth.
Shepherds lived a lonely, solitary life. They brought the sheep out to the pastures beyond the villages and towns, and stayed there all day, watching over their charges to keep them safe from wolves and/or poachers, sometimes staying away from civilization for days and weeks. The shepherds knew their flock, and the sheep knew their shepherd. The shepherd attends his flock with the diligence and care of a father for his children.
Knowing this, seeing Jesus as the Good Shepherd isn't impossible. Jesus came into the world to gather God's children to him, to bring them to the fold, the Kingdom, and lead them to a way of life that it is harmonious with creation. He warns his first century listeners to be wary of those who claim to have the answers, to have the right way of life, for they are the thieves and bandits who jump over the wall or go through a window to get into the fold, rather than follow Jesus through the gate.
Today, the shepherd is as foreign to us as a knight on horseback or a Hobbit. We don't have occasion to see them on our commutes to work and school, not most of us, anyway. Still, the message Jesus offers is worth noting. It's in our best interest to be wary of those who say they have the answers, the secrets to life, those who invite us to get rich quick, to be the alpha dog, the leader of the pack. Strange, as I was typing this, a television commercial was playing in the living room and the jingle went something like, "I want it all . . . I want it all . . . I want it now." Is this the message we want to convey? Having the most doesn't get you into the Kingdom, having all the answers to the most puzzling questions in the universe may get you a spot on a game show, but it doesn't guarantee a place at the table, or a room in the Father's house. Hearing the Word, sharing it, living a life in right relationship and taking right action, a life modelling the gospel to one's best ability invites us to join the fold, to enter by the gate. In this way, we can be shepherds like Jesus. Or if we must be sheep, we will know who our shepherd is.
Alleluia, He is risen.
Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.
Ellen+
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