Spiritual Hiccups - Social Justice for Christmas

During the Advent and Christmas seasons, we often hear the voices of the prophets.  "For unto us a child is born...  Behold the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel... The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light."  Many Christians relish the promises of a Messiah found in the prophets, and yet many Christians seem unaware that these same prophets cry out for social justice.

Only a few verses from "the people who walked in darkness" we hear, "Ah, you who make iniquitous decrees, who write oppressive statutes, to turn aside the needy from justice and to rob the poor of my people of their right, that widows may be your spoil, and that you may make the orphans your prey!"  The prophets often rail against the rich and the powerful, against those who insure that the laws and the policies of the land favor them, who worry more about their own profits than about the poor.

And Jesus aligns himself with these prophets, proclaiming "good news to the poor" and warning those with wealth that their many possessions are a curse rather than a blessing, that it is harder for a camel to pass through an needle's eye than for a wealthy person to enter into the kingdom. 

On some level, Christians seem to know that the coming of a Messiah calls us to care for the poor.  The outpouring of charity around Christmas, by people in and out of the Church, is quite impressive.  Yet I fear that it is only a token of the life the prophets and Jesus call us to live. 

We had an interesting discussion the other day in a Bible study about the distinction between service and servanthood.  The first are things we occasionally do while the second is a pose, a way of life.  When Jesus washes his disciples' feet on the night of his arrest, it is an act of service, but more importantly, it is the pose of a slave or servant.  Jesus does something not done by dinner hosts but done only by slaves and servants.  And he says that this is an example for us to follow.  We are to take the pose of servants and slaves.

Amidst all the hoopla of Christmas, it is easy to forget that Jesus comes to call us to a new way of life.  This is the true gift of Christmas, even though we often see the call to discipleship like a child who got socks for Christmas.  It seems to us an unwelcome burden.  But Jesus insists, "Those who lose their life for my sake and the sake of the gospel will save it."  Jesus offers the gift of true and abundant life to those who would walk in his ways, the ways of servanthood, self-giving, and social justice that both he and the prophets proclaim.

The true gift Jesus offers us at Christmas, and every other day of the year, is the hardest gift for many of us to receive.  We struggle to believe that this gift could bring us happiness and fulfillment because we have believed the false gospel we hear every day, that happiness comes from having more - more and more things, more and more power, more and more prestige.  We struggle to trust Jesus when he tells us that less is really more, that crosses and self-denial are to be embraced.  But still Jesus comes to us, and still he offers us new life.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Distinguishing Light from Darkness

The Daily Lectionary would have great difficulty if it tried to pick readings for Advent that all pointed toward Christmas.  Especially when it comes to the gospels, there just isn't that much material.  Neither Mark nor John bother to tell of Jesus' birth.  Mark's opening verses, today's gospel, begin abruptly with, The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.  As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, "See, I am sending my  messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of  one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make  his paths straight,'" John the baptizer appeared in the  wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of  sins.

In Mark, the beginning of the good news is John who baptizes people and calls them to repentance. The word repent has taken on connotations of conversion and swearing off one's previous life, but the word means more that confessing one's sin. It is about turning, about moving in a direction appropriate to the new day that comes in Jesus. Preparing is about starting to live now by the ways of God's coming rule.

Over the past six months, I have come to rely on Father Richard Rohr's daily meditations to get my day off to a good start. In his meditation this morning, Rohr speaks of our need for a wisdom that can "name the darkness as darkness and the Light as light," our need to reject a pie-in-the-sky attitude that doesn't see the darkness, but without allowing our view of the darkness to obscure the "more foundational Light." Between these two poles lies true Christian wisdom that lets us "wait and work with hope inside of the darkness—while never doubting the Light that God always is—and that we are too (Matthew 5:14). That is the narrow birth canal of God into the world—through the darkness and into an ever greater Light." (Click to read Rohr's meditation.)

I think John's call of repentance invites us to do something very similar.  It calls us to turn away from the darkness in the world, to work against that darkness in the certainty and hope of the light that overcomes the darkness.  It is about a willingness to both name the darkness and to live in ways that defy its power.  This sort of repentance prepares for God's rule by refusing to simply go along with the "ways of the world," by living instead by the ways of God's coming day, a way of life clearly shown in the life of Jesus.

The beginning of good news is to get ready for something other than how things are.  It is to see the darkness in all its ugliness, but to reject its power and live at odds with it.  This is the hopeful realism* of our new life in Christ, a realism that clearly sees the world's darkness, but lives and works with confidence that the Light still shines in the darkness, and Light will triumph over darkness.

*I borrowed this term from Doug Ottati's book of the same name.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Advent Politics

For a child has been born for us, 
  a son given to us; 
authority rests upon his shoulders; 
  and he is named 
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,  
  Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

I don't know about you, but when I hear these verses from Isaiah, I think of Advent and of Christmas.  What else would I think about?  But there is near universal agreement among Old Testament scholars that Isaiah is not speaking of some far-off, future Messiah.  More than likely, these verses speak of King Hezekiah, a new king whose reign the prophet expects to bring good days for Israel, a hope Hezekiah largely fulfills.

After Hezekiah's time, people in Israel begin to hear these words as still having weight, still containing a promised ideal ruler who would come some day.  This promise was active in the time Jesus appeared, and so naturally his followers understood him to be its fulfillment.

As a Christian, I share this belief of Jesus as prophecy fulfilled, but I also think it a good idea to recall the original, very political sense of the prophecy.  The prophet spoke of God's Anointed One taking the throne and bringing righteousness and justice to the land.  This new king would end oppression from foreign empires, and would bring a time of peace and flowering in Israel.

It seems to me that if some in Jesus' day were disappointed when he did not take up arms and defeat the Romans, many in our day seem to have lost any sense of Jesus as a political Messiah.  Jesus does not conquer with traditional weapons, but he speaks of God's will being done on earth,  he says the kingdom of God has come near, and he speaks of a great reordering in the society with the poor and outcast being lifted up while the rich and powerful are pulled down.

And so if people 2000 years ago sometimes wanted to overly politicize Jesus, we often want to overly spiritualize him.  We want to "believe in" Jesus without necessarily embracing the Kingdom, the rule of God that he says he brings.  We imagine a Jesus who is no threat to our political system or our way of life, as though we were living in the Kingdom.

Perhaps one of the reasons we want Advent and Christmas to be about baby Jesus in the manger is that a baby Jesus is no threat.  A babe in a manger cannot shout, "Blessed are you who are poor... But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation."

Jesus did not get arrested and put to death simply because he offered up a different take on private, personal religion.  He got himself killed because people in power, both religious and political power, viewed him as a threat.  And in a season when we so often say, "Come, Lord Jesus," I can't help but wonder who Jesus would threaten if he walked our streets again. 

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Sunday Sermon video - Already, But Not Yet

Advent Cantata: For Us a Child Is Born

This beautiful cantata, at one time attributed to J. S. Bach, is performed by the Boulevard Presbyterian Chancel Choir, accompanied by chamber orchestra. 

Higher quality video available on my YouTube channel.

Spiritual Hiccups - Mangers and Crosses

It seems a bit jarring to read, less than two weeks before Christmas, of Jesus' betrayal and arrest.  Today's gospel lection tells of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, and of Judas leading a crowd of police, priests, and elders who come out to seize Jesus under cover of darkness.

Some years ago, during a Hanging of the Greens service at the beginning of Advent, I leaned a wooden cross against the empty manger and left it there for the next couple of Sundays.  I really heard about that one. I don't think any sermon, hymn selection, or other worship move ever generated that level or intensity or complaint.  A lot of us, it seems, don't want the cross interfering with Christmas.

On a surface level, this is easy to understand.  We're celebrating a birth, a moment of beauty and hope.  Who would want to bring the pain of the cross into that moment?  But of course the two gospel writers who mention Jesus' birth, Matthew and Luke, both include hints of trouble to come in their accounts.  In Matthew, Jesus' family has to flee for their lives following the visit of the Wise Men, narrowly escaping the slaughtering of all the infants in Bethlehem.  And in Luke, Simeon tells the baby Jesus' mother, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed--and a sword will pierce your own soul too."

I wonder if most all of us, to some degree, wouldn't prefer a crossless Jesus.  Surely there is some way to avoid this. Surely this isn't absolutely necessary.  Despite the fact that fact that the Apostle Paul speaks of wanting to know only Christ crucified, despite his insistence that Christ crucified is the wisdom and power of God, the cross unnerves us.  And this manifests itself in ways as diverse as blaming the Jews for Jesus' death, sparse attendance at Good Friday services, or being startled by a cross in the Advent decorations.

Soon we will proclaim, "Christ the Savior is born."  Perhaps the Apostle Paul would say "the crucified Christ."  And to be honest, I'm not exactly sure how to hold all that together.

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Sunday Sermon audio - Already, But Not Yet

On the day of an Advent cantata in our traditional service, an early service sermon on John the Baptist's question to Jesus in Matthew 11. Even though the world often looks unchanged, Jesus says God's rule is "Already." But we must point to its "Not Yet."
 
Already, But Not Yet - Dec. 12, Advent 3.mp3

Because this is recorded in different worship service, one where I don't stay in a pulpit, the sound quality varies a bit as I move around.  Apologies.

Spiritual Hiccups - God, I Need You

When a toddler at the playground falls and skins a knee, there's often a brief moment of stunned silence followed by cries and screams.  This normally produces a swift parental response as Mom or Dad swoops in to help the child and makes things all better.  Indeed most of would be appalled if a parent failed to act this way.  It is simply how things are supposed to be.  A parent should care for a child in need or distress.  That's a parent's job.

Given how common Father language is when talking about God, it's not surprising that some parental expectations get transferred onto God.  I've even heard a few folks go so far as to say, "It's God's job to help me out, to do stuff for me."  And I once read where someone said, "God has to forgive me.  That's his job."

I have to admit to falling into such feeling myself at times.  Some of my biggest faith struggles arise when I don't think God is being attentive enough to me, when God isn't responding to me as I would like.  But every once in a while, I remember that God acts the parent is not because God has to, but because God chooses to. 

If you read the Noah stories in Genesis, the whole human enterprise seems to be a failure, one that God seriously considers erasing and then starting over with a clean slate.  But for some inexplicable reason, God decides to commit to humanity.  It's not God's job, and God doesn't have to.  But there is something about God's nature - perhaps the God is love part - that compels God to stick with us.

And so the psalmist can cry out,
   Hear my prayer, O LORD;
         let my cry come to you.
   Do not hide your face from me
         in the day of my distress.
   Incline your ear to me;
         answer me speedily in the day when I call.

Even though the psalmist knows that his days are "like an evening shadow;" that he will "wither away like grass," while God's "name endures to all generations, still he can say to God, "You will rise up and have compassion on Zion."

In this time of year with all its gifts and presents, we may do well to occasionally recall what a gift it is that God is mindful of us, that God doesn't simply leave us on our own.  That God loves us, comes to us, and becomes our Parent when God does not have to, might just be the most amazing gift of all.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Satan and Christmas

Satan shows up in two of today's readings.  Many modern Christians, certainly many in denominations like my own, don't know what to do with this character.  In fact, many of us are downright embarrassed by the idea of Satan or a devil.  Perhaps this is the product of the optimism and belief in progress that so characterized modernity.  If some cosmic being is always working against us, even if Satan is simply the personification of a cosmic evil that works against us, that shatters our hopes that if only we work hard enough, we can finally end poverty, end disease, end war, end suffering.

This may be a particularly acute problem for those of us in so-called "mainline" churches.  For much of our history we've been closely allied and aligned with the culture.  And we came to understand our faith as fully compatible with culture and nation.  But if we must reckon with evil, and especially if biblical passages speaking of Satan as "the ruler of this world" are taken at all seriously, then nation, world, and culture end up being complicated places, not simply the arena for progress.

I think that stereotypical images of Satan as some guy with horns and a pitchfork are to be laughed at.  Such images trivialize the problem of evil.  But the need for God to intervene in history, the need for a Messiah, for Christmas and a cross, all say that we humans cannot finally "save" ourselves.  And I use "save" here not as a synonym for going to heaven, but in the biblical sense, meaning to heal, make whole, rescue, restore, and set right. 

Perhaps the most basic reason that we don't like to deal with Satan or evil comes down to not wanting to admit the power that evil, that sin has over us.  We don't want to think that we could ever have betrayed Jesus.  We don't want to think we would have been among those who failed to recognize him as the Messiah.  We don't want to consider the possibility that we might have joined the crowd in shouting, "Crucify him."  Not us!

But Christmas insists that we need saving - from evil, from sin, from our own self destructive ways, from our arrogance, from our tendency to trust in things other than God, be they money, nation, ideology, church, or progress.

But of course the hope of Christmas also insists that evil, Satan, and sin, are no match for God.  Evil is real, but evil's greatest triumph, the cross, only leads to Resurrection, the herald of God's coming new day.  And so we will work against poverty, and war, and hunger, and oppression, not because we "believe" in progress, but because we trust that this is the shape of the salvation God is bringing.

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Spiritual Hiccups - Dealing with Sin

I have known a few Christians who seemed to think that as long as you believed in Jesus, nothing else you did mattered.  But in truth, rare is the person of faith who does not think her faith demands a certain ethic or morality.  Most all of us know that Jesus demands we love God and love neighbor.  And more careful readers of the Bible know that Jesus says he fulfills the Old Testament Law, not abrogates it.  But at the same time, most Christians know that Jesus talks a fair amount about forgiveness.

Out of all this and more, we Christians have developed a complicated and messy relationship with sin.  For starters, we prefer to think of other people as the real sinners rather than us.  I see this in my Presbyterian tradition, where corporate prayers of confession are long standing part of worship.  This is the element of worship I hear the most complaints about and the most suggestions that we should either drop it or at least tone it down.  (If you'd like to see this in action yourself, try getting folks to recite the answer to Question 5 from the "Heidelberg Catechism."  In response to the question of whether anyone can keep God's Law it says, "No, for by nature I am prone to hate God and my neighbor.)

But if we are prone to downplay our own sin, we have no such problems with it comes theirs.  Of course this requires that we tend to be appalled at their sort of sins while being understanding about our more banal sorts of sin.  I am convinced that the current battles over homosexuality in the Church come about because of how safe the majority feels concerning this particular "sin."  I think people on both sides of this Church fight can agree that we're not likely to ban those who practice "unrepentant greed" from being members or pastors or anything else in the Church.

In today's gospel reading, Jesus is confronted with how to respond to someone's sin.  The religious leaders bring him a women caught committing adultery, and remind him that the Law proscribes death by stoning for the offense.  Jesus' response doesn't really uncomplicate things for us.  He doesn't speak against the Law, asking only that one without sin himself begin the rock tossing.  When no one in the crowd is willing to follow through, Jesus states clearly that he will not condemn the woman.  But he also tells her, "Go your way, and from now on do not sin again."  Too bad the story doesn't continue on and have Jesus meet her a second time when she's been caught again.

It seems to me that religious people often want to use their sin as markers and boundaries.  Their sort of sin puts you on the outside.  But in this story Jesus won't draw a boundary, even though he tells the woman to change her behavior.  I realize this doesn't neatly solve any debates about what is or isn't actually a sin, but it does seem to speak of a different sort of relationship toward "sinners." 

I wonder what it would look like for the Church to be a place that took very seriously the need to live in conformity with God's ways, but where "sinners" still heard, "I do not condemn you."

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