Spiritual Hiccups - You Talking to Me?

I've blogged on this before, but Peter raises the issue himself in today's gospel. "Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for everyone?"  Modern day Christians, especially Protestants, are prone to think of the Bible as an evangelical tool.  We presume that everything in it is spoken for everyone, that if we could just get everyone to read it and believe what it says, the Kingdom would surely come.

But of course this is a relatively modern, Protestant notion.  For the first 1500 or so years of Christianity, almost no Christians owned a Bible.  And no one gave Bibles to non-Christians.  It took the invention of the printing press and the development of high literacy rates before Protestants could insist that every individual should read Scripture for himself or herself.  And this idea needed to become ingrained before handing out Bibles made any sense as a conversion technique.

All of this is to say that for most of Christian history, the Bible and its teachings weren't not necessarily thought to apply equally to everyone.  Jesus himself, in today's reading, suggests that those who weren't aware of what Jesus' return meant would not be held accountable the same way his followers would. 

Some Christians are quick to condemn non-believers, but Jesus seems to say that it is believers who need to be on their toes, that they are the ones who will be held to higher standards and scrutiny.  And I suspect that if we believers did hold ourselves to higher standards, that might prove to be the most effective sort of evangelistic witness.

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Spiritual Hiccups - What, Me Worry?

I grew up reading Mad Magazine which featured Alfred E. Neuman and his stock phrase, "What, me worry?"  Neuman's lack of worry seemed the product of a general cluelessness, not necessarily something to be emulated.  And yet Jesus recommends something of Neumanesque pose.  "Therefore I tell you, do not worry  about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will  wear."

Jesus also seems to give a nod to another facet of Neuman's character.  Neuman appears to be something of a "slacker," not the sort of fellow who would  knock himself out to make good grades or participate in lots of extracurricular activities so he would be accepted into an elite college.  Our culture rewards endless striving.  Parents pick enrichment activities for their toddlers, already worrying about college applications.  And yet Jesus says, "And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying."

What do you worry about?  What do you expend energy trying to achieve?  Some people assume that pastors have an advantage when it comes to living "Christ-like" lives.  After all, our work is centered on the faith.  And yet we pastors are often caught up in our culture's obsession with success.  Countless books and conferences aimed at pastors urge us to work harder and smarter in language that would sound familiar to business managers and leaders.  And much of this material that tries to make us "better pastors" feeds off of and adds to a climate of worry.  We're worried about church finances.  We're worried about aging congregations.  We're worried about declining church participation.  We're worried about how it looks when a congregation loses membership on our watch.

I don't for a second think that Jesus wants me simply to lounge around doing nothing.  But Jesus says my striving should be for God's kingdom, which is not always the same thing as a "successful" congregation, a to-die-for youth program, or a gang-buster stewardship campaign.

What sort of worry and striving occupies your time?  What sort of worry and striving occupies your congregation or faith community?  I know that a lot of my worrying and striving has little to do with the Kingdom.   I wonder if Alfred E. Neuman might be available for a little church consulting.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Cast into Hell

I readily admit that readings such as today's gospel make me a bit uncomfortable.  When Jesus starts talking about being "cast into hell" or how "whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven," I struggle to fit this in with other images of Jesus eating with tax collectors and sinners, with his call to love and pray for your enemies.  Perhaps, as a modern "liberal," I'm simply uncomfortable with judgment and accountability.

Perhaps... But I also think some of my discomfort arises from texts such as today's being used in an "us versus them" sort of way.  Because we are so accustomed to the Bible being employed for evangelical purposes, we often forget that it was originally written for internal use only.  The gospel of Luke was not handed out on the streets as might be done today by the Gideons.  The vary rare copies of it (all copies had to be written out by hand) were read aloud at gatherings of churches, often house churches.  And so these words are aimed almost exclusively at Christians.

I don't know that removes all the discomfort of these verses, but it does change the focus quite a bit.  Nothing is being said here about believers versus non-believers.  This is about how believers respond when their faith puts them in jeopardy.  In this sense the words seem intended more as encouragement than as warning.  They are a call to stand fast in the face of persecution, to trust in God's care for them no matter the circumstances.

And when they are persecuted, "everyone who speaks a word against the Son of Man will  be forgiven; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven."  This is a most curious saying.  Speaking against Jesus is not a deal breaker, but the Holy Spirit is another matter.  There is debate about just what is meant by this, perhaps something along the lines of: If in a moment of fear a disciple speaks against Jesus, that is forgiven, but if a disciple actively rejects the Spirit's efforts to strengthen and encourage them, that is not.

However, what is clear is that the only ones in any danger in this scenario are Christians.  Jesus' words are addressed to believers who face persecution.  And isn't it strange that we can take words addressed to us, and somehow turn them so that they speak words of condemnation against others who don't believe the same as we do.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Ticking Off Jesus

Have you ever wondered what Jesus would think if he visited your congregation?  I'm not talking about his presence being there but about the Jesus we meet in the gospels walking in off the street and dropping in on a worship service, a fellowship dinner, a committee meeting, and so on.  I was prompted to wonder about such things after reading today's gospel and being reminded once again how it took religious people to get Jesus really honked off.

For many of us who grew up in the church, this fact is sometimes missed.  Pharisees, scribes, and such have become such stock, bad guys that we don't necessarily see much beyond cartoon, cardboard cutouts.  (I grew up in the South where sometimes Catholics got the same sort of treatment.  If the Catholics did it, surely it was a bad idea, which explains why Ash Wednesday, Lent, and so on are somewhat new to me.)  But what if we replace the term "Pharisee" with something not having the same negative stereotypes?

Today's gospel features Pharisees and lawyers, and I don't think it is all that much of stretch to rename them pastors and theologians.  (Maybe Protestant pastors; we'll let the priests and Sadducees be Catholic.)  It isn't very hard for me to imagine Jesus lashing out at some of us pastors and theologians for being overly concerned about keeping our churches going, about getting the doctrines straight, about worshiping in the proper manner, without worrying much about issues such as justice.  If Jesus visited our committee and board meetings, I can visualize him getting enraged over how little "good news for the poor" gets emphasized and how the poor are often viewed as little more than opportunities for mission projects, who should show gratitude to us for our noble efforts.

It isn't that pastors or theologians are such bad folks, but then neither were those Pharisees and lawyers Jesus addresses.  But all of us can get terribly preoccupied with running our little religious enterprises and mistake all that work and energy for loving God and serving others.

It took religious people to really get Jesus angry.  Perhaps that is because he thinks we should know better.  Perhaps that means we religious types would do well to spend more of our time getting closer to Jesus, letting him invade every little corner of our lives, and letting him rattle our cages now and then so that we get back on the path he shows us.

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Spiritual Hiccups - And Also Many Animals

I've long loved the story of Jonah.  It is a remarkable story that contains a great deal more meaning when one listens for its message rather than worrying about historical events.  Like the book of Job, the book wrestles with the ways of God.  But unlike Job, who becomes enraged over God's unfair punishment of him, Jonah is angry over God's graciousness and mercy. 

The story depicts a reluctant prophet who heads off in the wrong direction when God calls him.  Finally forced by God to go to Nineveh, Jonah unenthusiastically fulfills his mission, then is angry that God reverses course (literally "repents") on plans to destroy the city.  Jonah complains that this is why he ran from God's call.  He feared God would show mercy all along. 

The story concludes with a curious little aside that is both poignant and humorous.  Jonah goes out and sits, perhaps hoping God will yet destroy Nineveh.  As he waits, God has a plant spring up to provide Jonah shade.  But then God sends a worm that bores into the plant which withers, taking its shade in the process.  And Jonah is so upset he asks to die himself.  This allows God to respond, "You are concerned about the bush, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow; it came into being in a night and perished in a night.  And should I not be concerned about Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand  persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also many animals?"

The story ends there with that "and also many animals?"  Jonah is angry that God has not meted out justice to those Gentile Ninevites. Then he becomes so enraged over the loss of a bush that provides shade, he loses all composure.  In a mixture of religious self-righteousness and egocentricism, Jonah cannot even see the thousands of men, women, and children he hopes God will kill, not to mention all those animals. 

"And also many animals?"  Interesting that their fate would weigh on God so.  I know many Christians who seem to picture God as remarkably cavalier over the fates of those who don't get their religious beliefs correct.  And who even counts animals? 

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Spiritual Hiccups - Too Busy for God?

My wife and I decided to get away for a couple of days, a possibility that comes with no children any longer living at home.  We went to Ohio Amish country for a relaxing weekend.  We stayed in Berlin, OH, visited the many shops on its main street, and watched the Amish families in their buggies.  On a nice Fall weekend, we were hardly alone.  Traffic in Berlin was bumper to bumper.  But we were walking so it didn't much matter.

I had never been to Berlin before so I was not prepared for the contrast between Saturday and Sunday.  We left our little cottage in late morning to discover the streets of Berlin nearly deserted.  None of the shops we visited the day before were open, and there was scarcely a car to be seen.  Berlin, it seems, is closed on Sunday.  It reminded me of my native South when I was very young and Sunday was a "day of rest."

I would imagine that Berlin, OH is quite dependent on tourism dollars, and weekends would seem to be prime time for tourists.  But, perhaps because many of the shops are Amish, the only shopping going on was window shopping.

For God alone my soul waits in silence;
         from God comes my salvation.
God alone is my rock and my salvation,
         my fortress; I shall never be shaken.

I don't think I would want to be Amish, but I do wonder if we haven't become so busy and anxious as a people that we have difficulty finding any time for God.  Despite all those things Jesus says about wealth and possessions being a hindrance to relationship with God, we want more.  More things, more information, more entertainment, more and more, and we want it now. 

The Amish are an exotic novelty to us because they are so foreign, so different from us.  They have not bought into our culture's norms.  I do not necessarily agree with their reasons for this, nor do I idealize their lives.  But still, they do stand as a kind of reminder that happiness and contentment do not always require more.

I often find that when I am swamped with things that need doing in the office, when I am feeling the most stressed, those are the times when I lose touch with God.  At the very times when God's presence would seem to be most needed, I am too busy to stop.  I am too busy for silence.  I am too busy for God?

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Spiritual Hiccups - Focusing on What Matters

It is a deservedly famous line from the prophet Micah.  "And what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?"  What God requires is a basic religious question.  In the case of Micah, the answer rejects much of the traditional religious ritual of that day, burnt offerings and sacrifices.  That's not what God wants," says Micah.  You know what God wants, justice, kindness, a humble faith life.

The gospel reading for today also touches on this issue of what really matters.  This passage is often noted for the way it explodes conventional gender roles.  But beyond that, it raises more general questions about priorities.  Someone had to get dinner ready if Jesus and the other house guests were to eat.  I don't think Jesus or Luke is saying that domestic tasks are bad things.  This issue is one of priorities.

All our lives are filled with choices.  We have finite energy and resources.  If we work 65 hour weeks, something else suffers.  Living in Columbus, OH, I've learned of people who live 500 miles away and yet spend every weekend of a home Buckeye football game here in Columbus.  Clearly those weekends are not available for other things.

It strikes me that when the passages from Micah and Luke are considered together, they ask people of faith to consider two different sorts of priorities.  Luke addresses a more general issue of priority.  Where does our faith fit into the other priorities of our lives?  Micah, however, asks about the priorities of our faith lives.  Where does our religious energy go?  It isn't that worship is a bad thing, far from it.  But if religious rituals encompass the majority of of faith lives, what happens to those things God requires of you, "to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?"

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Spiritual Hiccups - What Must I Do?

Today's gospel contains the famous parable of the "Good Samaritan."  The parable is intriguing enough in own right, with its use of a despised Samaritan to demonstrate acting neighborly.  But I was struck by the lawyer's original question to Jesus, "Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"

Now I presume that if the lawyer were to ask this question today to a group of Christians, a significant number of them would say something to the effect that "You must believe in Jesus and profess him as your Savior."  But the curious thing is that Jesus' own answer says nothing of the sort.  Jesus simply queries the lawyer (a religious scholar and not what we mean by "lawyer" today) about what the law says. The lawyer responds by quoting Scripture, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your  soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself." 

Upon hearing his answer, Jesus responds, "You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live."  There is no "You need something more," no "You lack but one thing."  Jesus simply says that if he loves God and neighbor, that is sufficient.

Now I am acutely aware of the hazards inherent in creating grand theologies from small snippets of Scripture.  But if Jesus thinks that loving God and neighbor is enough, who I am to insist otherwise?

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Spiritual Hiccups - Folks Like Us

Luke's gospel speaks of the poor and lowly being lifted up while the rich and powerful are pulled down.  In keeping with this theme of reversal, in today's lection Jesus speaks of God having "hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have  revealed them to infants."  He goes on to tell his followers how blessed they are to have been a part of his movement.  "For I tell you that many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see  it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it."


I've never been quite sure how to reconcile Jesus' words about God's revelation "to infants," with a church where wisdom about the faith seems to be lodged with experts.  All that is required to show this is to ask church members to teach a class.  "Oh, I could never do that," is the common refrain.  Sometimes this is false modesty.  Sometimes it is an excuse.  But underlying it is the notion that real information about the faith is held by experts.  Just as I would never have tried to teach my daughters calculus, so a great many church members assume that faith, biblical knowledge, and so on are best handled by specially trained experts.

But Jesus seems to think otherwise.  His disciples are hardly made up of the religious elite.  The first few are fishermen, one of the very last places one would expect to find any candidates to lead the Church.  And in today's reading, Jesus makes a special point about how God chooses to work this way.

My own Presbyterian/Reformed tradition has long valued having "educated clergy."  To be ordained pastors must have a bachelor's degree and a master's degree from an accredited seminary.  We must have had courses in Greek and Hebrew to facilitate handling biblical texts in their original language.  And it is certainly true that things get lost in translation.  There are things one can see in the Greek that you can't find in English, and there is real value in congregations having someone that can see these things.  But when a congregation comes to see faith as primarily the purview of experts, the value of an educated clergy seems to have done more harm than good.

Jesus tells his first followers to "make disciples of all peoples," so presumably he wants to let all of us in on these wonders revealed to infants, these things prophets longed to see and hear.  Presumably Jesus expects all of us to be filled with the Spirit and thus "know" what no expert can know because of learning or study.  And it seems to me that we sell our faith woefully short, that we sell Jesus woefully short if we do not draw near to him expecting him to reveal to us what prophets like Isaiah and Jeremiah could only long for.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Changing Ourselves

I read Richard Rohr's Daily meditation in conjunction with today's lectionary passages.  Rohr spoke of how we need mentors to help us stay on track because religious people often think their job is to help other people change.  We forget that faith is about God transforming us, a process that is never quite finished.  And when we focus on getting others to be like us or agree with us, we often forget about the work of transformation in our own lives.

I thought about Rohr's comments in light of the reading from Micah.  Micah, like many other prophets, blasts the rulers of Israel.  In a sense, these prophets seek to mentor the rulers.  King in ancient Israel is a religious position.  Kings were messiahs, God's anointed ones.  Their rule was to be guided by God, but privilege, power, and rich friends made it easy to go astray, and the prophets sought to call them back.  Of course kings often found false prophets who would tell them what they wanted to hear.

All this makes me wonder about who serves as my or your mentor, who reminds us of our own need to change.  Who is our prophet, counselor, mentor, or spiritual director?  Who reminds us to let the Spirit continue her transforming work in our lives?  This is especially problematic for pastors, at least for me.  I often think that if only I could get those people to be more.... things would be better.  But who says to me, "First remove the log from your own eye..."

The tradition in which I grew up didn't have spiritual directors, and it didn't really encourage mentoring relationships.  Faith was mostly about agreeing with what my tradition said was true.  As an avid reader, I was fortunate to find mentors on the printed page, but books are easier to ignore than someone who has a relationship with you. 

Who draws you back when you are going astray?

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Sunday Sermon video - Peering into the Darkness; Glimpsing Hope

Spiritual Hiccups - Us, Them, and the Kingdom

I just came out of a finance meeting where the topic turned from money to the changing landscape in which the church lives. Our conversation would have been familiar to many. We talked about the fact that the culture doesn't encourage church attendance any longer, about how congregations are often engaged in a competition for a shrinking number of church folks, about how many mainline congregations have trouble connecting with people who aren't predisposed to attend church, and more.

Such conversations sometimes have a paralyzing effect.  Longtime, dedicated church members can see the situation as overwhelming.  After many years of being quite good at doing worship, caring for one another, and doing a little mission work to boot, they fear they must now become marketing experts, that they must relearn how to worship, that they must outshine mega-churches with mega-budgets.

Such thoughts were bouncing around in my head when I read today's gospel.  In it a Samaritan village does not welcome Jesus "because his face was set toward Jerusalem" (and by implication, the cross). The disciples want to punish the Samaritans, but Jesus rebukes them.  Next Jesus speaks with would be followers about what it means to be his disciples.  And the interplay of these events struck me with regards to the situation facing many mainline congregations.

For example, how to we perceive those who do not join us, who have little use for the church?  I know a lot of church folk who not only do a fair amount of hand wringing over "Where have all the people gone," but they harbor a certain anger and resentment towards a culture that has abandoned them.  I've never heard anyone suggest calling "fire to come down from heaven," but the culture is often viewed as a big part of the problem.

But the gospel reading quickly shifts the focus from what to do about those who don't embrace us to what it means to follow Jesus.  Jesus seems unwilling to worry about "them" and instead hones in on what we, who say we do want to follow him, are supposed to do.  And the two specific things Jesus mentions are a single-mindedness about the work of disciples, and "proclaiming the kingdom of God."  And I think that some of the best advice available for worried, mainline congregations may be found right here.

Put simply, our endless worrying about "them," the people who aren't here, tends toward one of two opposites.  Either we blame "them" and focus on being the righteous remnant.  Or we try to figure out how to lure "them" with the latest and greatest offerings.  But Jesus calls us to a different path, taking our own call to discipleship so seriously that proclaiming the Kingdom becomes our central purpose. 

Interestingly, I have seen a number of surveys done with people who have little use for the church that say one of the biggest factors in their attitudes is seeing little of depth and substance in the congregations they've encountered.  They've not met people who seem to be focused on following Jesus and proclaiming the Kingdom, who are willing to live, act, work, and spend their money differently because they follow Jesus. 

This says to me that if mainline congregations become communities where the people who were there spend more time deepening their own spiritual lives, in following Jesus' commandments and embodying the kingdom he says has "drawn near," we might just find ourselves in a much better position to speak to those around us. Then we could say with real integrity, "See what a difference following Jesus has made in our lives and for the community in which we live?  Wouldn't you like to be a part of something like that?"

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