"Where did you get to know me?" So says Nathanael to Jesus when they first meet. He is startled when Jesus seems to already know something about him. I suppose that this story is a way for John's gospel to impress us with Jesus' divinity, his ability to observe Nathanael as only God could do. But I am captivated by Nathanael's question.
The desire to connect with God is a desire to know and to be known. I long to know God better, and the most frustrating faith moments for me are when God's seems distant and removed. But I often try to keep part of myself from God. To be fully known is to be completely vulnerable. Perhaps that is why Nathanael's question grabs me so. Perhaps I imagine him to be frightened at the prospect that this Jesus can see into him so easily.
Most of us keep secrets even from those who know us best. It is difficult to trust someone so fully that we can be totally vulnerable to them. Perhaps a part of faith is learning to trust God to the point that being fully known doesn't seem frightening.
(Click here to receive the Daily Lectionary in an email each day.)
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
"Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!" So says John the Baptist in today's gospel reading. Presumably these were joyful words, for when the Baptist repeats them to some of his followers on the next day, those followers leave John and go with Jesus. They have found something greater.
As we enter in the the season of Lent, I can't help but ponder the excitement those first disciples must have felt when they heard, "Here is the Lamb of God!" And then I contrast this with the austerity often associated with Lent.
No doubt "giving up" something can be a way of drawing closer to God. But often Lent seems to be dour for dour's sake. I wonder, wouldn't it be much better if, rather than thinking about what to "give up," we thought about what practices, activities, or changes in our lives might help us hear afresh the good news that "Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"
(Click here to receive the Daily Lectionary each day in your email.)
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Ash Wednesday Meditation
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 (Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21)
Meditation
I realize that this is not the case for some of you here tonight, but for me, the Great Depression is something I know only from the history books. It’s one of a long list of things that occurred somewhere way back in the recesses of time, when things were very different, nothing like they are today.
Now despite pithy sayings such as “The more things change, the more they remain the same,” it is easy to think that certain things have been permanently relegated to the dustbin of history. Many of us probably assume that modern medicine means there will never again be anything on like the Black Death that swept across
And when I took history in my school days, I learned that events like the Great Depression were relics of the past. Thanks to government regulation of the market, FDIC to protect people’s money in the bank, and a whole host of government programs forming a substantial, social safety-net, scenes such as those described in Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath simply could not be repeated. Yes there will be economic ups and downs, but never anything like that again. And then came our current economic meltdown.
Now I’m not saying that we’re doing to have another Great Depression. I certainly hope and pray that won’t happen. But some economists have said that it could happen, that it is a real possibility. I tend not to believe such dire predictions, but that may be simply because of my own optimism, or maybe even because of my deeply ingrained notions that such a thing could never happen again.
It’s funny; we tend to snicker at the certainties of past generations while we imagine that our own certainties are valid. As a society, we think ourselves smart enough, advanced enough, sophisticated enough that we aren’t like people from history who thought World War I was the “war to end all wars.” We can chuckle at predictions from the less than 200 years ago suggesting that if humans ever invented a vehicle going much over 40 miles an hour, our bodies would come apart under the stress of such a thing. We know better. Our predictions would never be so foolish.
To varying degrees, most of us buy into the myth of progress. Now when I say the myth of progress I don’t mean that there haven’t been real advances in the course of history. The medical, technological, and political advances of history are very real. Generally speaking, our lives are considerably better for such progress. But the myth of progress falsely believes that such advances will inevitably lead to a day when we solve all problems and insure that life goes well for everyone. The myth of progress essentially believes that human beings have limitless capacity, and when those capacities have reached their full potential, all will be right with the world.
When I was in seminary, I had a professor who had an interesting definition of sin. He said that sin was distortion. Now this professor’s field was pastoral care, the practical discipline of helping, caring for, and counseling people as they deal with difficulties or transitions in their lives. This professor said that human beings are created with significant and wonderful capacities to do many things. But they are also created with significant limitations. In his words, humans are both “gifted” and “finite.” But sin distorts appropriate knowledge of who we are. Some individuals fall into the distortion of thinking they are worthless and capable of little. But as societies, and especially American society, we tend to fall into the distortion or sin of denying our limits, our finite nature.
And so bankers and financiers can fall prey to their own foolish beliefs that they have the markets figured out and managed to the point that there is no where to go but up. People can lose their life savings because of their faith that certain companies are too big, too well run, too carefully diversified to ever go bust. And politicians of all stripes can cling to the certainty that their ideology can solve all the nation’s ills.
And now we once again enter the season of Lent. As we do, we rehearse an ancient liturgy. As we receive the mark of ashes as we hear once more the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” It is a call to remember who we truly are, creatures, creatures with tremendous gifts but with very real limitations. It is a call to remember that God alone is God, and we are not, contrary to what any myth of progress might claim.
God alone is God, and we are God’s creatures. No progress, no advance, no technological achievement, no political program will ever change this, and in a way, both scripture readings for this evening call us to remember this. The gospel reading, a portion of the Sermon on the Mount, warns people about using religion to achieve that they want. In these teachings, Jesus calls us to align our hearts, our lives, with God.
And the reading from Joel is particularly stark in warning people to “return to Yahweh.” Now some may hear these verses in formulaic, mechanical fashion. “Go to church, be moral, and good things will happen.” But I understand these verses to be much more basic, calling us to remember who we are, calling us to return to true relationship with God as creatures –wonderful, gifted, and beloved creatures, but finite, limited creatures – dependent on our Creator, dependent on God’s love, God’s grace, God’s mercy.
“Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
I've always liked the book of Jonah, the second half of which is today's Old Testament reading. The ending of it strikes me as funny, when God chastises Jonah's temper tantrum over the mercy shown Nineveh. "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?" And also many animals? What an odd ending. But given that Nineveh's king made the animals fast along with the people, I suppose that God has heard their cries as well.
More interesting to me is what happens when Jonah has done his prophetic duty, in admittedly minimalist fashion. The king orders all people and animals to fast and put on sackcloth, saying, "Who knows? God may relent and change his mind; he may turn from his fierce anger, so that we do not perish." And God does turn from that anger. "When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it."
God here acts in ways I don't often attribute to God. God changes God's own mind. Actually, God "repents." I did a study on Jonah not too long ago and I recall that the Ninevite king's hope that God would "change his mind" is literally a hope that God would "repent," and God does "repent" I suppose Bible translators just can't bring themselves to write "God repented."
Christian theology has usually pictured God as unchanging and immovable. But here the Bible explicitly speaks of God turning and repenting. Now I would be a little troubled by an image of a capricious and wavering God whose behavior might change on a whim. But don't relationships require at least a little dynamism, a little sense that each partner in the relationship responds and reacts to the other? And I wonder if my relationship with God wouldn't be more fulfilling, if I thought of that relationship in more dynamic terms.
(Click here to receive the Daily Lectionary each day in your email.)
More interesting to me is what happens when Jonah has done his prophetic duty, in admittedly minimalist fashion. The king orders all people and animals to fast and put on sackcloth, saying, "Who knows? God may relent and change his mind; he may turn from his fierce anger, so that we do not perish." And God does turn from that anger. "When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it."
God here acts in ways I don't often attribute to God. God changes God's own mind. Actually, God "repents." I did a study on Jonah not too long ago and I recall that the Ninevite king's hope that God would "change his mind" is literally a hope that God would "repent," and God does "repent" I suppose Bible translators just can't bring themselves to write "God repented."
Christian theology has usually pictured God as unchanging and immovable. But here the Bible explicitly speaks of God turning and repenting. Now I would be a little troubled by an image of a capricious and wavering God whose behavior might change on a whim. But don't relationships require at least a little dynamism, a little sense that each partner in the relationship responds and reacts to the other? And I wonder if my relationship with God wouldn't be more fulfilling, if I thought of that relationship in more dynamic terms.
(Click here to receive the Daily Lectionary each day in your email.)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
Last week a CNBC reporter screamed on the Chicago trading floor that he did not want his money going to bail out irresponsible homeowners for their stupid mistakes. Speaking of the same situation, New York Times columnist David Brooks wrote, "The greedy idiots may be greedy idiots, but they are our countrymen. And at some level, we’re all in this together." (NY Times, Feb. 19, 2009) "I" versus "We." We always live with some tensions between the self and the group, but Americans often seem more enamored with the self than the group. We're rugged individualists, self-made men and women, the products of our choices and decisions. Even when we claim a "We," it is often an individual choice to belong to a group or movement.
The reading from Deuteronomy 6:16-25 speaks of a different sort of "We." The people of Israel are told to respond this way when their children ask questions about the commandments and statutes given by God in the wilderness. "We were Pharaoh's slaves in Egypt, but the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand." Jews still repeat these words today. "We were Pharaoh's slaves..."
"I" was never one of Pharaoh's slaves, and neither were any of those who continue to repeat these words, at least not in any literal sense. Yet identity as the people of God comes from claiming the "We" God gives to us.
Jesus says that if wish to be his followers, we must deny ourselves. (Mark 8:34) I wonder if this might be connected to becoming part of God's "We."
(Click here to subscribe to the Daily Lectionary.)
The reading from Deuteronomy 6:16-25 speaks of a different sort of "We." The people of Israel are told to respond this way when their children ask questions about the commandments and statutes given by God in the wilderness. "We were Pharaoh's slaves in Egypt, but the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand." Jews still repeat these words today. "We were Pharaoh's slaves..."
"I" was never one of Pharaoh's slaves, and neither were any of those who continue to repeat these words, at least not in any literal sense. Yet identity as the people of God comes from claiming the "We" God gives to us.
Jesus says that if wish to be his followers, we must deny ourselves. (Mark 8:34) I wonder if this might be connected to becoming part of God's "We."
(Click here to subscribe to the Daily Lectionary.)
Monday, February 23, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
Deuteronomy 6:1-15 speaks of God's commandments and calls Israel to "Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates." When I read these words, I was immediately taken back to the Sunday School class taught yesterday by Prof. Brad Binau. He talked about the historical situation at the time of the prophet Elijah, how as Israel became settled farmers and herders in the land there was a tendency to forget God in the day to day.
Dr. Binau noted that this God Yahweh is a wonderful God in a big crisis, when you need to win a war or escape from slavery. But in the more mundane living of daily life, the worries about rain and crop growth, other local gods seem to be the way to go. Israel maintained their regular worship of Yahweh, but turned to the local customs and rites in order to ensure the crops and herds. Dr. Binau also noted that we often live in much the same way, worshiping God on Sunday but serving other "gods" the rest of the week.
I know that I tend to look for God in the big and grand moments. I want visions, clarity about where our congregation should go, moments of deep and keen insight. But if God, and not other gods, is the God of moments big and small, perhaps I need to heed the words of Deuteronomy and recognize God at home and away, when lie down and get up. I need to keep God and God's ways somehow close to me at all times, even if I don't take to wearing a phylactery. And much of my spiritual endeavors over the past six months or so have focused on this, on becoming more aware of God's presence in the moments of the day.
(Click here to subscribe to the Daily Lectionary.)
Dr. Binau noted that this God Yahweh is a wonderful God in a big crisis, when you need to win a war or escape from slavery. But in the more mundane living of daily life, the worries about rain and crop growth, other local gods seem to be the way to go. Israel maintained their regular worship of Yahweh, but turned to the local customs and rites in order to ensure the crops and herds. Dr. Binau also noted that we often live in much the same way, worshiping God on Sunday but serving other "gods" the rest of the week.
I know that I tend to look for God in the big and grand moments. I want visions, clarity about where our congregation should go, moments of deep and keen insight. But if God, and not other gods, is the God of moments big and small, perhaps I need to heed the words of Deuteronomy and recognize God at home and away, when lie down and get up. I need to keep God and God's ways somehow close to me at all times, even if I don't take to wearing a phylactery. And much of my spiritual endeavors over the past six months or so have focused on this, on becoming more aware of God's presence in the moments of the day.
(Click here to subscribe to the Daily Lectionary.)
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
Today's gospel reading is from Mark 12:35-44, and in it Jesus lauds the tiny offering of a poor widow over the large gifts of rich donors. Her two coins represented all she had.
These days many church pastors are worried about giving. Church budgets are tight. Two small coins don't help very much, and so we pastors love to have members with lots of money who can place large offerings in the plate.
I like to think of my own giving to the church as more than generous. I preach and follow the mandate of the tithe, or 10 percent. But the widow in the gospel reading quickly deflates any puffed-up feelings I might have. I am like the rich givers Jesus observes who give "out of their abundance." I quick look at the family check book or the credit card bills will easily confirm this. Mortgage payments on a nice home in a nice neighborhood, cable TV, internet service, and a long list of other items dwarf the occasional check written to the church.
I don't plan on selling the house or disconnecting the cable and giving the money to the church, but Jesus' words do make me think about my own list of priorities, about how someone could give "all she had to live on" while such a thought seems so ridiculous to me.
(Click here to subscribe to the Daily Lectionary.)
These days many church pastors are worried about giving. Church budgets are tight. Two small coins don't help very much, and so we pastors love to have members with lots of money who can place large offerings in the plate.
I like to think of my own giving to the church as more than generous. I preach and follow the mandate of the tithe, or 10 percent. But the widow in the gospel reading quickly deflates any puffed-up feelings I might have. I am like the rich givers Jesus observes who give "out of their abundance." I quick look at the family check book or the credit card bills will easily confirm this. Mortgage payments on a nice home in a nice neighborhood, cable TV, internet service, and a long list of other items dwarf the occasional check written to the church.
I don't plan on selling the house or disconnecting the cable and giving the money to the church, but Jesus' words do make me think about my own list of priorities, about how someone could give "all she had to live on" while such a thought seems so ridiculous to me.
(Click here to subscribe to the Daily Lectionary.)
Friday, February 20, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
What a strange combination of information is striking my brain at this moment. I'm sitting at the computer in my basement where I looked at the NY Times while I listened to the talking heads on CNBC scream about what the stock market is doing today. One was hollering that President Obama needed to inspire economic hope. As I write I can hear the White House press secretary respond to a question on that same topic. None of this provides the best sort of devotional moment to read the day's lectionary texts, but that's what I did. I get the daily lectionary emailed to me each day, and I opened that email with all these other things swirling around. (Click here to subscribe to the Daily Lectionary.)
At any rate, I opened the readings and found Isaiah 65:17-25 with its words of promise and hope. "For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice for ever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight... Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent -- its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the LORD." And I couldn't help wondering about what faith and the church should be saying about hope in times such as these.
Very often the promises of Scripture have been so "spiritualized" that they have little contact with day to day life. But surely the story of a Savior who comes healing the sick and feeding the hungry speaks of a God who cares about our lives, and who promises more that "pie in the sky by and by." I don't mean by this that God will send the market up. I'm not a "prosperity gospel" sort of guy. But I still feel that God wants to "save" us in ways that are tangible now. Perhaps I, and maybe some of you, need to be more attentive to God's showing us where true hope is to be found in our lives.
At any rate, I opened the readings and found Isaiah 65:17-25 with its words of promise and hope. "For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice for ever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight... Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent -- its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the LORD." And I couldn't help wondering about what faith and the church should be saying about hope in times such as these.
Very often the promises of Scripture have been so "spiritualized" that they have little contact with day to day life. But surely the story of a Savior who comes healing the sick and feeding the hungry speaks of a God who cares about our lives, and who promises more that "pie in the sky by and by." I don't mean by this that God will send the market up. I'm not a "prosperity gospel" sort of guy. But I still feel that God wants to "save" us in ways that are tangible now. Perhaps I, and maybe some of you, need to be more attentive to God's showing us where true hope is to be found in our lives.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
In today's gospel reading from Mark 12:13-27, Jesus is asked questions by people hoping to trick or embarrass him. Predictably, Jesus has no trouble deflecting these attempts to ensnare him, but the answers Jesus gives may raise some interesting questions for us.
"Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." Well that is plain enough, but then again the Bible says, "The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it." (Ps. 24:1) So just what sort of neat division has Jesus actually provided for us here?
And while issues of Levirate marriage don't much concern modern day Christians, more than a few folks hoping to be rejoined with a spouse after death might not be overjoyed by Jesus' answer to the Sadducees. "For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven." Now exactly what being "like angels in heaven" means is beyond me, but Jesus' words about the resurrection as an entirely different sort of existence seem to challenge many our our own quaint notions of life after death.
Obviously our own questions for Jesus aren't intended to do him harm like those in this reading, but that doesn't mean our questions cannot be self serving. Seeing how surprising Jesus' answers are to friend and foe alike, maybe our first question should be, "What are the right questions?"
"Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." Well that is plain enough, but then again the Bible says, "The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it." (Ps. 24:1) So just what sort of neat division has Jesus actually provided for us here?
And while issues of Levirate marriage don't much concern modern day Christians, more than a few folks hoping to be rejoined with a spouse after death might not be overjoyed by Jesus' answer to the Sadducees. "For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven." Now exactly what being "like angels in heaven" means is beyond me, but Jesus' words about the resurrection as an entirely different sort of existence seem to challenge many our our own quaint notions of life after death.
Obviously our own questions for Jesus aren't intended to do him harm like those in this reading, but that doesn't mean our questions cannot be self serving. Seeing how surprising Jesus' answers are to friend and foe alike, maybe our first question should be, "What are the right questions?"
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
If, as I assume, faith is less a matter of believing certain things and more about encounter and relationship with God, then the words of the prophet in Isaiah 63:15-64:9 draw some interesting attention to the God side of this relationship. The prophet pleads to God, wanting to know why God has caused Israel to falter. "Why, O LORD, do you make us stray from your ways and harden our heart, so that we do not fear you?... But you were angry, and we sinned; because you hid yourself we transgressed."
As the reading closes, the prophet seems to call on God to remember the fatherly relationship with Israel. This is a theme that occurs regularly in the Old Testament, the necessity of God remembering the covenant promises.
In faith's dark times, I can certainly feel as though God has forgotten me. It is frustrating when I am struggling to connect with God, to reach out to God, to listen for God, and God seems absent. But perhaps there is some consolation in this experience, for it reminds me that, finally, relationship with God, and even faith itself, is not something I achieve by my efforts. Rather it rests in God's remembering, in God's fealty to divine promises. And despite the frustrations of faith that I encounter all too often, everything I know about God convinces me that God's memory and God's fealty is a whole lot more reliable than mine will ever be.
As the reading closes, the prophet seems to call on God to remember the fatherly relationship with Israel. This is a theme that occurs regularly in the Old Testament, the necessity of God remembering the covenant promises.
In faith's dark times, I can certainly feel as though God has forgotten me. It is frustrating when I am struggling to connect with God, to reach out to God, to listen for God, and God seems absent. But perhaps there is some consolation in this experience, for it reminds me that, finally, relationship with God, and even faith itself, is not something I achieve by my efforts. Rather it rests in God's remembering, in God's fealty to divine promises. And despite the frustrations of faith that I encounter all too often, everything I know about God convinces me that God's memory and God's fealty is a whole lot more reliable than mine will ever be.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Musings on the Daily Lectionary
Jesus isn't so meek and mild into today's reading from Mark 11:12-26. Jesus curses a fig tree and tosses the money changers and vendors out of the Temple. On top of all that, the priests and scribes "were afraid of him."
It's hard to imagine many people being frightened of Jesus in our day. I'm not advocating for a militant image of Jesus, but perhaps a little righteous indignation would be a good idea. Perhaps Martin Luther King Jr. provides a good modern example. He would not use violence, but the power structures he went up against were genuinely afraid of him.
I wonder what things in our congregations and in our individual lives make Jesus angry today. I wonder how we might be frightened if the living Christ moved through our temples.
It's hard to imagine many people being frightened of Jesus in our day. I'm not advocating for a militant image of Jesus, but perhaps a little righteous indignation would be a good idea. Perhaps Martin Luther King Jr. provides a good modern example. He would not use violence, but the power structures he went up against were genuinely afraid of him.
I wonder what things in our congregations and in our individual lives make Jesus angry today. I wonder how we might be frightened if the living Christ moved through our temples.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)