Today's psalm begins, "For God alone my soul waits in silence." And the gospel reading opens with Jesus saying, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?" Focused on God alone with no worries; now that sounds like bliss.
One of the prominent schools of thought in church leadership encourages pastors to practice something called "non-anxious presence." This means that you are to be fully present or engaged in the issues that your congregation or committee or board is dealing with, but you are not supposed to let the anxieties surrounding these issues affect how you respond. In theory it is wonderful, but in practice it can be terribly difficult. I can be non-anxious fairly easily if I remain detached and unengaged. But when I begin to give myself fully to the situation, I often have a hard time keeping those anxieties at bay.
I may have gotten a tiny bit better at non-anxious presence after years of trying, but for me, this is less a proficiency issue and more a faith one. Too often I am tempted to think that "success" or "failure" as a church leader is primarily about my competency. But if it's all about my competency, or lack thereof, then what room do I allow for the Spirit to move in the congregation? If it's all about my proficiency, what is faith about?
In a success and results oriented culture, pastors, just like many others, can view their self worth as a matter or what they have accomplished rather than how faithful they are. We are called to live out our faith, and so what we do matters. But we are also called to trust in God's providence. Integrating and balancing faith and human effort may just be one of the most difficult practices of Christian living.
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I didn't preach today in what has become our regular rotation here. (I'll post a video of Brett's sermon here tomorrow.) However, I did a funeral for a dear member just a bit ago. I've never done many Sunday funeral services. I suppose that funeral homes and cemetaries frown on such things. But having a funeral service on "the Day of Resurrection" seems entirely fitting. And in this time when more people are doing cremations, when services don't necessarily need to be on a "work day" for funeral homes and cemeteries, I wonder if Sunday funerals might become more frequent.
Funerals are an intriguing part of the pastor business. For some reason I've recently run across a number of articles and a new book by Tom Long on Christian funerals. To be honest, I've always wondered about some funeral traditions. Why, for instance, do so many church members opt to have a family member's funeral service at the funeral home rather than at the church sanctuary? I'm happy to be of help at either locale. I simply wonder why a church member would prefer the non-church setting.
But while I do sometimes wonder about funeral customs and the like, I should add that funerals are often places where that I most feel like I have helped or comforted someone. People often seem genuinely appreciative of a pastor's efforts at a funeral. I suppose that's why I've heard more than one pastor utter, "I'd rather do five funerals than do one wedding." But that's a different conversation.
In the sure and certain hope of the resurrection, we commend to Almighty God our sister, Betsy.
Today's reading from Matthew is always one of the readings for Ash Wednesday. I've always thought it a bit strange to read Jesus' words warning against "practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them" at a service where people go out with a cross clearly marked in ashes on their foreheads. (Some congregations take note of this situation by encouraging people to wash off their crosses before going out in public.)
Of course Jesus also says things such as, "Let your light shine before others, so they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven." It seems that the issue is motivation. What drives people to be public about their faith?
If you look at church signs, you will no doubt notice that a fair number of churches are named after someone. As a seminary student I did my internship at Howard Memorial church. That was a second name for this congregation, a change prompted by the Howard family donating the money to build a sanctuary. I even know of a William and Mary Hart Presbyterian Church. Usually you can only get your last name on the sign.
Now I have no idea if the Harts wanted the church named for them or not. Perhaps is was done posthumously to honor what had been lives of humble and dedicated service. Or perhaps they gave money on the condition of it being named for them. I'm hoping it's the former.
What motivates us to do what we do in the name of faith? Many churches, mine included, are moving into their "Stewardship Season," and this always raises questions of why people do or don't give. What lies behind our giving, our service, our worship, our private devotion, the way we act toward others, and on and on. I suppose that the answers we give say a lot about who we really are, and how we understand that our lives are lived to and in the presence of God.
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Join us this Sunday at 10:00 a.m. for the second in a three part class that examines if there really is a conflict between science and religion. Do the creation accounts in Genesis mean that Christians can't believe in evolution? What sort of book is the Bible and just where is it authoritative for people of faith? Join the discussion this Sunday and next as we continue to explore these questions.
Today's gospel reading in Matthew has Jesus' famous words about turning the other cheek, which means to offer your left cheek to the person who has struck you on the right. Jesus not only commands an ethic of non-violence for his followers, but he goes on to say, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Jesus says that if we love only those who love us, we are no different from anyone else in the world. Only by loving those who hate us can we become more like Jesus, more like God.
A common biblical refrain calls for the people of God to be distinct from the world. Sometimes this has been construed as disdain and separation from the world, but mostly it is about being a light to the world, an example of another way, the Way of Jesus, the Way of the cross, the Way of God's coming dominion.
Perhaps because Americans so long thought of this as a "Christian country," we lost our appreciation for this call to be an example, a light to world, a distinct community that embodied God's Way rather that the world's way. And while I would be lying if I said the decline of the American church and of my denomination didn't bother me, I can't help but think we are being given a new opportunity to rediscover this call for Jesus.
Now if I could just find the allure of the world a little less captivating.
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You know, sometimes I think I'd be a lot happier, and being a Christian would be a lot easier, if the Bible was a pamphlet instead the voluminous work that it is. And couldn't we have just one gospel? Even better if the picture of Jesus in that gospel was perfectly consistent, with no room for questions or interpretation regarding what it means to follow him. But as it is, we have Jesus forgiving those who crucify him in Luke. But in today's reading from Matthew Jesus not only demands that people cannot fool around, but that they cannot even think about it.
The fact is that I like some of the portraits of Jesus in the Bible better than others. And I tend to hang those on the walls of my life and put the others in the basement somewhere. And from what I can tell, I'm far from alone on this. But if God's inspiration and providence were in any way responsible for the Bible that we do have (as I assume they were), then apparently we are meant to wrestle with those images of Jesus and God and faithful life that are not our favorites.
In fact, I've come to believe that the complexities of Scripture, including those passages that we find appalling or unfathomable, serve to shake any arrogance we might have about getting God all figured out. And they keep rattling and shattering those all too comfortable images of God and faith we construct for ourselves. I think it was C. S. Lewis who called God a "great iconoclast," who allows us to seize on images that draw us closer to God, but then shatters those images so that we have to keep moving closer and closer to the divine whom we can never fully comprehend.
Not the way I would have done it. But then again, it's probably just as well that I'm not God.
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I've always loved the story of Naaman, the Syrian commander whose leprosy is healed by Elisha. The Bible has quite a few healing stories, but what fascinates me about these verses (2 Kings 5:1-19) is the "unimportant" people without whom this healing would never have occurred.
Naaman learns that he might be healed from the words of a slave girl who was captured by one of Naaman's raiding parties into Israel. But although a slave has directed him to Israel, Naaman still thinks in the ways of the rich and powerful. And so he carries all sorts of treasure, along with a letter of recommendation from the King of Aram, to the King of Israel. Anything so significant as a healing surely runs through kingly avenues of power.
But things don't go at all as Naaman had expected. Not only is Israel's king not in command of such events, but Naaman is unimpressed by the prophet Elisha's instructions for healing. And once again servants have to step in and convince Naaman to do a task he assumes is too menial to go with a healing. And even after he is actually healed, he still thinks in terms of tribute, of treasure offered in payment. But Elisha will accept none.
I'm still inclined to view things a little like Naaman. Despite the fact of Jesus, a Savior and King far from any palace, who went to the poor and the outcast, who was, according to Paul, "God's power made perfect in weakness," I still expect God to operate through proper channels.
I wonder how often I miss the healing, life-changing power of God because it comes it ways I don't expect, shows up in places I assume it wouldn't go, and is revealed through the most unexpected sorts of folks.
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James 3:13--4:3, 7,8 says that when Christians share in the divisions and conflicts typical of the world, we are devilish, unspiritual, and not from above. But when God is with us we have a wisdom that is from above, that "is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits..." How different that sounds from much of the partisan rancor engulfing our country. Yet often people on both sides claim to be motivated by faith.
Today's verses from the "Sermon on the Mount" in Matthew are some of the more well know words from Jesus. They're often called "The Beatittudes" from the Latin for "blessed," which has led to some unfortunate word plays such as "the be-happy attitudes." But this list is not a self-help guide to happiness. It is a surprising list of those whom God favors, who are aligned with the ways of the kingdom. While the list is often spiritualized (and even Matthew seems to have done this with the blessing on the "poor in spirit, see Luke 6:20), these are not "attitudes" for the most part but concrete conditions of life.
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers,for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
Most people don't think of mourning, being persecuted, or longing for the world to be set right (the meaning of hungering and thirsting for righteousness) as particularly blessed states. And our culture clearly doesn't think that meekness leads to anything good. Jesus' beatitudes embrace people the world views as not particularly fortunate, as not particularly blessed. And these blessing clearly set apart the ways of God's dominion from the ways of the world.
One of the perpetual problems for all religions is that they tend to get "domesticated" over time. Christianity is no different, and when it went mainstream all those centuries ago, it gradually lost a lot of its radical edge. And when it became the official religion in the West, too often it moved from challenging the ways of the world to supporting them. It may well have softened its world a bit, but it was softened as well.
From time to time we all need to take a good look at what Jesus actually said and stood for, to look at the ways we have made his hard words easy. From time to time the Church needs to be reborn in the image of God's reign, shedding the image of the world we have embraced. And I wonder if the loss of prestige and influence by mainline denominations such as my own may be something to celebrate and embrace rather than mourn. Perhaps these are an opportunity given us by God to rediscover who we are really called to be.
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I am intrigued by the way Jesus' proclamation of "the good news" is linked with healing the sick. Far too many Christians relegate the "good news" to what happens when they die, but Jesus' ministry seems to say otherwise. He spends a great deal of time dealing with concrete, physical ailments. Today's gospel is a good example. "Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them."
Over the years, many Christians have emulated Jesus through the work of medical missionaries and other health related ministries. There are more than a few Presbyterian hospitals in this country, along with many founded by other denominations. And all of this makes me wonder why some Christians are so outraged at talk of health care reform.
Health care is an extremely complex issue, and figuring out how best to fix our health care system is a huge challenge. Still, it is a fact that many of our fellow citizens, especially those toward the bottom of the economic ladder, receive woeful health care in a nation where the best services are available. And given that these are the very sorts of folks that Jesus ministered to, you would think that Christians would be in agreement that our faith calls us to help such folks. We might not agree on specifics of a particular plan, but any sort of "What would Jesus do?" test surely precludes the stance I've heard from some opposed to reform. Saying, "I'm happy with the insurance I've got, so leave it alone," is another way of saying, "My needs matter more than my neighbors." Hardly the message Jesus preached.
"And they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them." Jesus cured "all" of them, not just the ones who had good jobs, not just the ones who were deserving, but all of them. I don't know how to fix health care, but I'm sure Jesus weeps for all the people in this country, and in the world, who could be healed but aren't.
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