A lot of time has passed, but even still it doesn’t take much to get her blood boiling when she thinks about that landlord from long ago. The Rev. Candace Hodge and her husband were sued after leaving an apartment, accused of causing extensive “damage” to the dwelling. Knowing they had left the rental in good condition, the Hodges suspected that the landlord had destroyed the apartment in order to force his former tenants to foot the bill for renovations. Unfortunately they had no proof of this and ended up paying the landlord a huge sum of money in order to avoid court action.
The daily drive from her new home to her job took Candace Hodge past the landlord’s house and as she went by she held up her hand and “saluted him with the international sign of friendship.” She hated him with a perfect hatred whenever she thought about how he lied and cheated and stole from them and got away with it.
I suspect that each of us has “a landlord” in our past, or maybe even in our present. Perhaps it was a boss or a spouse. Maybe it was a friend or even a fellow parishioner. It might have been a peer or a rival. Those of you who have heard me rant on about it might want to chime in here that it could even be a neighbor. Each one of us knows what it is like to be powerless and backed into that corner where we have no options, no way to effect a just outcome, and sometimes even no ability to scream out. It is an awful place to be and the emotional trauma it inflicts on us stays with us for a long, long, long, long time.
It is such a common experience that Jesus speaks directly to it in His teaching:
“Do not resist an evildoer. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, turn the other also; if anyone wants to sue you to take your coat, give it to him, and give him your cloak as well; if anyone forces you to go a mile, go a second mile.”
This last teaching refers to the common practice of Roman soldiers conscripting civilians to carry their heavy bags for a mile. It was the law of the land and absolutely hated by the local population. Say you are out in the yard playing with your children, or getting ready to sit down to dinner, or resting after a hard day’s work. None of it mattered. At a moment’s notice you could be forced to drop it all and carry a soldier’s luggage a mile down a hot, dirty, dusty road. And once you had done that, you had to walk a mile back home; incensed and humiliated.
I am very much enjoying the daily practice of reading a passage from the Christian tradition. It offers insights from across the ages from men and women so powerful in the faith that if we were to know them in our present day we would know ourselves to be in the company of true godliness. Please don’t be too impressed when, in a sermon, I drop a reference to some obscure church figure. I am not that smart or well read, but I am trying to catch up.
So, on the heels of this disclaimer, let me tell you about something Gregory of Nyssa, a 4th century bishop and theologian, said. He held that God’s law – God’s righteous way for us – always falls in between two extremes. “Virtue,” he said, “is to be discerned in the mean: evil operates either in a deficiency or in an excess.”
Take courage, he says. Cowardice is the deficiency of virtue, while impetuosity is the product of excess. Wisdom lies in a narrow middle way between shrewdness and innocence. Moderation is the middle way between the self-indulgence of pure pleasure seeking on the one hand, and total disdain for the world on the other.
Thinking about this sheds a new and helpful light on the teachings of Jesus we heard this morning. On the surface, turn the other cheek, give your cloak as well, and walk a second mile seem to be very extreme responses, or non-responses. “Jesus,” we want to say, “these things are really hard to do. Why must you make it so difficult?” But what if they are in fact a middle way response between the evil extremes of excess and deficiency, between vengeance and victimhood?
Turning the other cheek is the mean response between retaliation (an eye for an eye) and the complete passivity of allowing yourself to be repeatedly abused because you lack the courage to say enough, no more. Giving you cloak is a middle way response between worshipping your stuff above all and reneging on your obligation to be a steward of what is entrusted to you. Walking the second mile is the mean response between hatred of the other (being consumed with resentment) and hatred of the self (renouncing your human dignity).
Each teaching empowers us to make choices in situations where we feel we have no choice. Jesus says to turn the other check because the perpetuation of violence only begets more violence, whereas complete meekness and helplessness offers no judgment on inappropriate behavior. Turning the other check is an act of the will which shows both restraint where reactivity is expected and action where passivity is the norm. Giving your cloak to the person who takes your coat says that you will not clutch on to your things at all cost, but neither will you stand by idle while everything you own is pilfered. Walking the second mile says that you will not react to an insult either with disdain for the offender or with disdain for yourself.
With regard to the extra mile, early Christians used this particular teaching as a tool for evangelism. As they carried a soldier’s pack they told the story of the Gospel. One of the reasons Christianity spread as far as it did as fast as it did was that converted soldiers, who travelled to the remote ends of the empire, took their new found faith with them. By the grace of God, they found the Gospel as it was lived out by believers who followed the middle way between excess and deficiency, between vengeance and victimhood.
Back to Candace Hodge and her landlord. She began to discern how her hatred was having adverse affects on her life, even though years had passed since the offense. She was lashing at others in anger, displacing her rage on those who did not deserve it. She had a heightened sense of stress and suffered physically and emotionally.
Studies suggest that anger is a human response to injustice that helps a person to gain a sense of control in the face of a situation of powerlessness. One researcher believes that we hold on to grudges because they make us feel more in control and less sad. But studies suggest we enjoy an even greater sense of power as we try to empathize with our offenders; gaining insight into their behavior and doing the hard work of offering forgiveness.
Hodge came to realize that it was difficult to forgive her ex-landlord because she had actually grown to enjoy hating him. But as long as she hated him, he had a power over her. Eventually she got to a point where she was able to write this:
I may not be able to make my former landlord any less of a lying, thieving jerk, but I can control of how I feel about that sort of person. Instead of hatred, I now feel a sense of pity for him. I forgive him now because I know he honestly doesn’t know any other way to behave. He has problems that I can’t begin to understand…
I remember, quite clearly, every detail of the legal hassle with that landlord. But, through the lens of forgiveness, I see it with different eyes. I see a man with little or no conscience, who takes advantage of people. I see him now as a man who schemes and connives, and I take pity on him. I hope one day maybe he’ll become a better person. In the meantime, I must move on with my life, if for no other reason than my own health and well being.
Jesus knew something very important. When we react to injustice from the extremes of excess or deficiency, we tie ourselves to the offender in way that lasts well beyond the offense. Long after the landlord has taken our money or the boss has taken our job or the spouse has destroyed our trust we allow ourselves to be fused to that person and that moment because at the time we could not find a middle way to empower us, nor can we now find the path of forgiveness which allows us to let it go and move on with life.
Jesus offers us teachings, which on the surface appear to be very difficult, but they are in fact the path of life.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Pull It Out & Cut It Off
This year’s Epiphany season Gospel readings have us hearing Jesus’ teaching in a section of Matthew’s Gospel known as the Sermon on the Mount. This sermon is really a collection of teachings, a basic summery of what Jesus must have told people over and over and over again everywhere He went. It begins with the Beatitudes, which we heard two weeks ago. Here, Jesus defines what happiness is all about: “Blessed are the poor in spirit for they shall inherit the earth.” Last week we heard Jesus tell His followers “you are the salt of the earth; you are the light of the world.”
Last week’s reading ended with Jesus telling folks He had not come to abolish all that the Law and the prophets had taught, but to fulfill it. He said that not one little dot of what had come before should be erased. He said that we must both keep the law and teach the law, which I take to mean we are to embody the Kingdom of God by so letting it inhabit us that our lives shout out the Gospel.
Now today, we hear Jesus begin to address specific issues of how the Law and the prophets were being taught and lived out in His own day. We can summarize His teaching by saying that Jesus both intensifies and internalizes the Law. It is no good for you to refrain from expressions of anger, but seethe within. It is no good for you to refrain from improper relationships, but still be racked with lust. Half-hearted commitments and vague promises will not do.
Jesus’ teaching could not be more clear. If you have wronged someone, go work it out. If you are being drawn toward something that is wrong, do whatever it takes to stay away. Remain faithful to your sacred commitments. Speak your intentions plainly. The teaching is clear, but we all know that following through is not. These are easy laws to pass along to others, but embodying them is another thing altogether.
Certainly the most vivid image Jesus uses is this: if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out; if you hand causes you to sin, cut it off. Now we know that Jesus is speaking metaphorically because plain sense and scripture tell us so. Surely Jesus did not want His followers to maim themselves and we do not have one instance where He specifically instructs a person to do so, although we have several instances of His disciples sinning. Think of Peter: “I will never deny you,” he tells Jesus. But of course, he does… three times. When Jesus greets Peter after the Resurrection, He does not say to him, “Peter, about that denying problem you have… cut out your tongue and that will never happen again.” What He says is, “Peter, do you love me? Feed my sheep.”
So Jesus is not telling us to pull out our eyes if we have lustful thoughts when we see someone attractive, nor is He telling us to cut off a hand if we are tempted too often to dip into the cookie jar. But these powerful, evocative images tell us something straightforward that is very important: we are to do whatever is necessary to stop our self-destructive tendencies and ways and we are to do whatever it takes to put an end to the damage we do to others. Again, this is easier said than done.
In our day and age self-destructive behavior takes many forms: addiction to alcohol, drugs, gambling, pornography, and over-eating are far too common. Some over spend, over-manage, and/or live life at a breakneck speed by being over-committed. Some of us are angry at the world. It becomes our default filter to process everything that happens, be it in our lives, in our families, in our community, or in our world. Others turn anger inward; torturously blaming the self for each and every little way they perceive themselves to be lacking. All of these too are types of addiction: self-destructive patterns of behavior that become so much a part of who we are and how we operate that it becomes difficult to believe we have the power to change.
Why is it so hard to pluck out the eye or cut off the hand of self-destructive or hurtful behavior? It is hard because we get insulated behind a wall of delusion and denial.
• There is a disconnect between how we see ourselves and our actual behavior.
• We repress the memory of painful events in order to escape the emotional consequences.
• Certain types of behavior, especially substance abuse, actually alter the chemistry in our brains in a way which either compromises or blocks our memory. For instance, a person under the influence of alcohol can perform complicated tasks, such as flying a plane or performing surgery, and have no recollection of the event.
• And finally, after time passes, we may experience what is known as “euphoric recall” where the memory of behavior is faded, but memory of the pleasure is heightened.
The more destructive our behavior becomes the more defensive and isolated we become. We shut ourselves off from those who know us best, who see us for who we are, and who love us unconditionally. And we shut off ourselves from God; hearing in His message harsh words of judgment and condemnation. But what God desires for each one of us is salvation. Our modern day understanding of salvation revolves around entrance into heaven, but the biblical notion deals more with health in the here and now. What God desires for you, what God yearns for you, what God offers to you, is health and fullness of life today.
I think we each hold on to a notion that God says this is who you are supposed to be. Sometimes we see ourselves clearly enough to know that there is a disconnect between who we are called to be and who we really are. Other times we are blind to the difference or in denial of it. To the degree that we recognize in ourselves behavior that is in conflict with our values we experience shame, guilt, fear, remorse, self-hatred, and feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness. We deal with all of this spiritually as human beings have from the beginning of time. Do you remember what Adam did after he had eaten the apple? He covered himself and hid from God.
The Monk at Farne is a mystic English figure from the 14th century. I think he says something important to us today if we hide from ourselves or if we try to hide ourselves from God:
What then shall separate me for the love of Christ, and prevent me from casting myself into His embrace, when He stretches out His hands to me all day long? Shame at the sinfulness and impurity which defile me? No, indeed; a shame that would separate me from my Lord would be fatal. I will rather run to Him as He beckons me to come, and by touching Him I shall be cleansed from all impurity of body and soul…
I will gladly run to Thee albeit a sinner, albeit unclean, for with Thee there is merciful forgiveness; Thou wilt wash me in Thy blood, and I shall be made whiter than snow. I will enter into Thee and not stay without, for outside Thee there is no salvation.
In today’s Gospel reading Jesus does not so much lay down the Law as He points the way to health and fullness of life. He doesn’t so much tell us to hide in shame and fear as He implores us to do whatever it takes to master our destructive and hurtful tendencies. In my experience, this is not a journey many of us undertake well when we undertake it on our own. We need allies, friends, supporters, professionals, and power from a Higher Power. Happiness lies down this path and this path alone. Hiding will not get you there. Do whatever it takes to begin this journey. There is nothing in life worth keeping if it costs you your life and the love of those who love you.
Last week’s reading ended with Jesus telling folks He had not come to abolish all that the Law and the prophets had taught, but to fulfill it. He said that not one little dot of what had come before should be erased. He said that we must both keep the law and teach the law, which I take to mean we are to embody the Kingdom of God by so letting it inhabit us that our lives shout out the Gospel.
Now today, we hear Jesus begin to address specific issues of how the Law and the prophets were being taught and lived out in His own day. We can summarize His teaching by saying that Jesus both intensifies and internalizes the Law. It is no good for you to refrain from expressions of anger, but seethe within. It is no good for you to refrain from improper relationships, but still be racked with lust. Half-hearted commitments and vague promises will not do.
Jesus’ teaching could not be more clear. If you have wronged someone, go work it out. If you are being drawn toward something that is wrong, do whatever it takes to stay away. Remain faithful to your sacred commitments. Speak your intentions plainly. The teaching is clear, but we all know that following through is not. These are easy laws to pass along to others, but embodying them is another thing altogether.
Certainly the most vivid image Jesus uses is this: if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out; if you hand causes you to sin, cut it off. Now we know that Jesus is speaking metaphorically because plain sense and scripture tell us so. Surely Jesus did not want His followers to maim themselves and we do not have one instance where He specifically instructs a person to do so, although we have several instances of His disciples sinning. Think of Peter: “I will never deny you,” he tells Jesus. But of course, he does… three times. When Jesus greets Peter after the Resurrection, He does not say to him, “Peter, about that denying problem you have… cut out your tongue and that will never happen again.” What He says is, “Peter, do you love me? Feed my sheep.”
So Jesus is not telling us to pull out our eyes if we have lustful thoughts when we see someone attractive, nor is He telling us to cut off a hand if we are tempted too often to dip into the cookie jar. But these powerful, evocative images tell us something straightforward that is very important: we are to do whatever is necessary to stop our self-destructive tendencies and ways and we are to do whatever it takes to put an end to the damage we do to others. Again, this is easier said than done.
In our day and age self-destructive behavior takes many forms: addiction to alcohol, drugs, gambling, pornography, and over-eating are far too common. Some over spend, over-manage, and/or live life at a breakneck speed by being over-committed. Some of us are angry at the world. It becomes our default filter to process everything that happens, be it in our lives, in our families, in our community, or in our world. Others turn anger inward; torturously blaming the self for each and every little way they perceive themselves to be lacking. All of these too are types of addiction: self-destructive patterns of behavior that become so much a part of who we are and how we operate that it becomes difficult to believe we have the power to change.
Why is it so hard to pluck out the eye or cut off the hand of self-destructive or hurtful behavior? It is hard because we get insulated behind a wall of delusion and denial.
• There is a disconnect between how we see ourselves and our actual behavior.
• We repress the memory of painful events in order to escape the emotional consequences.
• Certain types of behavior, especially substance abuse, actually alter the chemistry in our brains in a way which either compromises or blocks our memory. For instance, a person under the influence of alcohol can perform complicated tasks, such as flying a plane or performing surgery, and have no recollection of the event.
• And finally, after time passes, we may experience what is known as “euphoric recall” where the memory of behavior is faded, but memory of the pleasure is heightened.
The more destructive our behavior becomes the more defensive and isolated we become. We shut ourselves off from those who know us best, who see us for who we are, and who love us unconditionally. And we shut off ourselves from God; hearing in His message harsh words of judgment and condemnation. But what God desires for each one of us is salvation. Our modern day understanding of salvation revolves around entrance into heaven, but the biblical notion deals more with health in the here and now. What God desires for you, what God yearns for you, what God offers to you, is health and fullness of life today.
I think we each hold on to a notion that God says this is who you are supposed to be. Sometimes we see ourselves clearly enough to know that there is a disconnect between who we are called to be and who we really are. Other times we are blind to the difference or in denial of it. To the degree that we recognize in ourselves behavior that is in conflict with our values we experience shame, guilt, fear, remorse, self-hatred, and feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness. We deal with all of this spiritually as human beings have from the beginning of time. Do you remember what Adam did after he had eaten the apple? He covered himself and hid from God.
The Monk at Farne is a mystic English figure from the 14th century. I think he says something important to us today if we hide from ourselves or if we try to hide ourselves from God:
What then shall separate me for the love of Christ, and prevent me from casting myself into His embrace, when He stretches out His hands to me all day long? Shame at the sinfulness and impurity which defile me? No, indeed; a shame that would separate me from my Lord would be fatal. I will rather run to Him as He beckons me to come, and by touching Him I shall be cleansed from all impurity of body and soul…
I will gladly run to Thee albeit a sinner, albeit unclean, for with Thee there is merciful forgiveness; Thou wilt wash me in Thy blood, and I shall be made whiter than snow. I will enter into Thee and not stay without, for outside Thee there is no salvation.
In today’s Gospel reading Jesus does not so much lay down the Law as He points the way to health and fullness of life. He doesn’t so much tell us to hide in shame and fear as He implores us to do whatever it takes to master our destructive and hurtful tendencies. In my experience, this is not a journey many of us undertake well when we undertake it on our own. We need allies, friends, supporters, professionals, and power from a Higher Power. Happiness lies down this path and this path alone. Hiding will not get you there. Do whatever it takes to begin this journey. There is nothing in life worth keeping if it costs you your life and the love of those who love you.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Salt, Light, and Homer DaVinci
Like many of you, I have kept a watchful eye on events unfolding in Egypt over the past few days. I am prayerful for a peaceful resolution there that will bring freedom and democracy to a long-oppressed people. I saw an NBC News story where they reported on the nerve center of the uprising. It was a small, cramped room staffed by less than a dozen volunteers led by a single mother aged 33. With access to the internet cut off, they were using satellite cell phones to communicate with an ever-increasing network of people risking their lives working for change.
Unrest in any part of the world makes us anxious, especially if it is a region where we have vital interests at stake. While the outcome of what will happen in Egypt is anything but certain, and the affect this movement has on the rest of Arab world is a serious concern, I can’t help but be impressed that a handful of dedicated people are making history before our very eyes. I am encouraged by their realization that peaceful resistance is more effective that strapping a bomb to your body and blowing yourself up at a hospital, police station, market square, or place of worship.
And I am impressed that a 33 year old woman, armed with a college degree and easily accessible modern technology, is leading the charge. She challenges each one of us to consider Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel reading: “You are the salt of the earth, but if you have lost your saltiness what good are you?” “You are the light of the world, so why would you hide your light under a basket? Put it out on the table so that it will give light to everyone in the room.”
I’ve said before that Denise Levertov is one of my favorite poets. Years ago she was having dinner with a man who at one time had been a painter. She didn’t know if he was a good painter or not, but because his wife wanted more security, he gave up his art and took a lousy advertizing job drawing pictures of ugly furniture for some nasty company. He hated it, every minute of it, every part of it. Levertov could feel his exasperation as they talked. There was something in his situation, she felt, that seemed typical of so many lives. This man, who she dubbed ‘Homer DaVinci’, had sold out (if you will) for money. Some of us do that. Others sell out for comfort, esteem, acceptance, or power to name a few possibilities.
In her 1961 book, The Jacob’s Ladder, Levertov wrote a poem called “The Plan” where she is not so much critical of Homer DaVinci for selling out as she chastises him for being corrupted. By corruption she means that he was not living his own life, rather he had gotten off the track and was living someone else’s life. It is another way of expressing what Jesus is saying: he was no longer salty; he had hidden his light.
In the poem Levertov picks up a provocative quote by Rabbi Judah Loew; a quote which Jesus Himself might just have said were he born into a time closer to our own:
“In some special way every person completes the universe. If he does not play ‘his part,’ he injures the pattern of all existence.”
Do you believe that is true? Do you believe that the person sitting to your right this morning has some special part in completing the universe? Do you believe the person sitting to your left has a role to play in the pattern of all existence? Do you believe that you are the salt of the earth, that you are the light of the world?
Levertov does not perceive the Rabbi to be talking about the need for us to be perfect, but rather about the value we bring to life by being authentic to who we are; utilizing the gifts we have been given and the experiences that have shaped us. Painters need to paint, writers need to write, tinkers need to tinker, and healers need to heal. In the Grand Design that we call God’s Kingdom, each of us has a part; our own unique way to be salt and to be light. When we accept this and live into it, even the world can be changed as we see this week in Egypt. When we shrink back, sell out, give in, or give up it injures the Kingdom of God.
This season of Epiphany the assigned readings from the Old Testament have been a series of challenging prophetic proclamations that attack the shallowness of worship offered by a society unconcerned about justice and righteousness; it denounces the value of praise offered by tasteless salt and hidden light. In today’s reading Isaiah mocks the efforts of a people to fast and pray and practice the rituals of the faith. And then, speaking through the prophet, the Lord says this:
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
And what does God say the outcome of such “worship” will be?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly…
If you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.
It is as if Isaiah is saying that God’s light shines on us as we allow our light to shine in the world. It is as if the healing properties of salt come to us as we live like the salt of the earth. “To the one who has,” Jesus said, “even more will be given. But to the one who uses not what he has, even that little will be taken away.”
Thomas Merton, in his book The Power and Meaning of Love, cautions against being salt and light in ways that are anything less than concrete:
There is a ‘romantic’ tendency in some Christians – a tendency which seeks Christ not in love of those flesh-and-blood brothers and sisters with whom we live and work, but in some as yet unrealized ideal of ‘brotherhood’. It is always a romantic evasion to turn from the love of people to the love of love itself: to love people in general more than individual persons, to love ‘brotherhood’ and ‘unity’ more than one’s brothers, sisters, neighbors, and associates… This romantic tendency leads to a substitution of… genuine faith and love, and what is seeks in the Church is not so much reality as protection against responsibility.
I think Merton is saying it is possible to have all the words right, to pray and worship just like the people in Isaiah’s time, and still not be salt or light.
Look around. Everyday people are doing ordinary things that play a part in the pattern of all existence. In fact, some ordinary people are doing extraordinary things. And sadly, far too many everyday people are like Homer DaVinci, underestimating the value and worth they have as salt and light. And some of us use our religion to make us bland and blind to the part we are to play, injuring, as it were, the Kingdom of God.
Unrest in any part of the world makes us anxious, especially if it is a region where we have vital interests at stake. While the outcome of what will happen in Egypt is anything but certain, and the affect this movement has on the rest of Arab world is a serious concern, I can’t help but be impressed that a handful of dedicated people are making history before our very eyes. I am encouraged by their realization that peaceful resistance is more effective that strapping a bomb to your body and blowing yourself up at a hospital, police station, market square, or place of worship.
And I am impressed that a 33 year old woman, armed with a college degree and easily accessible modern technology, is leading the charge. She challenges each one of us to consider Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel reading: “You are the salt of the earth, but if you have lost your saltiness what good are you?” “You are the light of the world, so why would you hide your light under a basket? Put it out on the table so that it will give light to everyone in the room.”
I’ve said before that Denise Levertov is one of my favorite poets. Years ago she was having dinner with a man who at one time had been a painter. She didn’t know if he was a good painter or not, but because his wife wanted more security, he gave up his art and took a lousy advertizing job drawing pictures of ugly furniture for some nasty company. He hated it, every minute of it, every part of it. Levertov could feel his exasperation as they talked. There was something in his situation, she felt, that seemed typical of so many lives. This man, who she dubbed ‘Homer DaVinci’, had sold out (if you will) for money. Some of us do that. Others sell out for comfort, esteem, acceptance, or power to name a few possibilities.
In her 1961 book, The Jacob’s Ladder, Levertov wrote a poem called “The Plan” where she is not so much critical of Homer DaVinci for selling out as she chastises him for being corrupted. By corruption she means that he was not living his own life, rather he had gotten off the track and was living someone else’s life. It is another way of expressing what Jesus is saying: he was no longer salty; he had hidden his light.
In the poem Levertov picks up a provocative quote by Rabbi Judah Loew; a quote which Jesus Himself might just have said were he born into a time closer to our own:
“In some special way every person completes the universe. If he does not play ‘his part,’ he injures the pattern of all existence.”
Do you believe that is true? Do you believe that the person sitting to your right this morning has some special part in completing the universe? Do you believe the person sitting to your left has a role to play in the pattern of all existence? Do you believe that you are the salt of the earth, that you are the light of the world?
Levertov does not perceive the Rabbi to be talking about the need for us to be perfect, but rather about the value we bring to life by being authentic to who we are; utilizing the gifts we have been given and the experiences that have shaped us. Painters need to paint, writers need to write, tinkers need to tinker, and healers need to heal. In the Grand Design that we call God’s Kingdom, each of us has a part; our own unique way to be salt and to be light. When we accept this and live into it, even the world can be changed as we see this week in Egypt. When we shrink back, sell out, give in, or give up it injures the Kingdom of God.
This season of Epiphany the assigned readings from the Old Testament have been a series of challenging prophetic proclamations that attack the shallowness of worship offered by a society unconcerned about justice and righteousness; it denounces the value of praise offered by tasteless salt and hidden light. In today’s reading Isaiah mocks the efforts of a people to fast and pray and practice the rituals of the faith. And then, speaking through the prophet, the Lord says this:
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
And what does God say the outcome of such “worship” will be?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly…
If you remove the yoke from among you,
the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil,
if you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.
It is as if Isaiah is saying that God’s light shines on us as we allow our light to shine in the world. It is as if the healing properties of salt come to us as we live like the salt of the earth. “To the one who has,” Jesus said, “even more will be given. But to the one who uses not what he has, even that little will be taken away.”
Thomas Merton, in his book The Power and Meaning of Love, cautions against being salt and light in ways that are anything less than concrete:
There is a ‘romantic’ tendency in some Christians – a tendency which seeks Christ not in love of those flesh-and-blood brothers and sisters with whom we live and work, but in some as yet unrealized ideal of ‘brotherhood’. It is always a romantic evasion to turn from the love of people to the love of love itself: to love people in general more than individual persons, to love ‘brotherhood’ and ‘unity’ more than one’s brothers, sisters, neighbors, and associates… This romantic tendency leads to a substitution of… genuine faith and love, and what is seeks in the Church is not so much reality as protection against responsibility.
I think Merton is saying it is possible to have all the words right, to pray and worship just like the people in Isaiah’s time, and still not be salt or light.
Look around. Everyday people are doing ordinary things that play a part in the pattern of all existence. In fact, some ordinary people are doing extraordinary things. And sadly, far too many everyday people are like Homer DaVinci, underestimating the value and worth they have as salt and light. And some of us use our religion to make us bland and blind to the part we are to play, injuring, as it were, the Kingdom of God.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Question #3
Someone (I don’t remember who) said that the most important question we can ask is this: Is there a God? The second most important question is: If there is a God can God be known? Our Judeo/Christian heritage holds that God does in fact exist, that this God has called all things into being, and that God is knowable, self-revealing, and intimately involved in human affairs and history.
Today’s assigned readings from Scripture point us toward what I think is the third most important question human beings must consider: Since there is a God and since we can know God, what then does God expect from us? The poet of the 15th Psalm ponders:
Lord, who may dwell in your tabernacle?
Who may abide upon your holy hill?
The prophet Micah, in one of the most profound passages of the Old Testament, prayerfully considers:
With what shall I come before the Lord,
and bow myself before God on high?
“Should I bring an animal to sacrifice,” he asks? We might rephrase it, should I write a check? “Should I bring a thousand rams?” Should I write a really big check? “Should I pour out a river of oil?” Should I sit on the Vestry, serve on the Altar Guild, sing in the choir, pass out food to the needy, teach a class, never miss a Sunday, and basically be the best parishioner anyone has ever seen? “Should I offer up my first born for my sins and transgressions?” Should I tear myself apart for all the things I am that I should not be and for all the things I am not that I should be? What does God expect from us? What does God expect from you?
I must confess to you that I think I am too comfortable when I walk into church and when I seek to come into God’s presence. It is so easy to open the doors of the church, walk in, sit down, do the worship thing, and then move on without ever having a sense that I have presented myself to One Worthy beyond anything I can imagine. Stop and think about it for a minute. Are you comfortable when you enter this space? Casual? Complacent? Shouldn’t we be terrified or at least a little self-conscious! I think about how different Sunday feels when a bishop is visiting. On those occasions I am very much aware of things that are out of place. I am more in tune with where the parish is not up to snuff. And I am on heightened alert not to say or do the wrong thing. Heck, when a bishop visits I make it a point to get a hair-cut and have my shoes polished. But today I am more low-key because there is no bishop here to inspect us. The only One watching what we do today is us and God. God is watching! Shouldn’t that alarm us?
Now, I am not saying that to come to church you need to dress to the nines nor am I suggesting that authentic worship means trembling in fear for an hour. Scripture and our tradition present a variety of elements and responses that are appropriate in God’s presence. But Micah and the Psalmist remind us that God is an awe-inspiring Being and that to be in God’s presence elicits from us that third question: What does God want me to do and… am I doing it?
And what both Micah and the Psalmist realize is that the question needs to be reframed. It is not so much what God wants me to do as who God wants me to be. The Psalmist comes to see that God desires him or her to be a person of deep integrity: blameless, doing what is right, truthful, never speaking in a way that is wily or deceitful, not evil or contemptuous of others, honoring what is honorable and rejecting what is not, keeping your word at all costs, never taking advantage of the vulnerable. Micah, in his memorable words, describes the core of human integrity in just three poetic phrases: do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. Such a person, the Psalmist says, not only can come into God’s presence, but remain/abide/dwell with God.
William Law was an 18th century English priest whose promising career took a big hit when, as a non-juror, he refused to swear allegiance to George I and remained loyal to his oath to James II. Not long after his fall from grace Law published his most famous work, A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, which to this day remains a devotional classic. Listen to Law’s words as he pursues the question of what God wants from us:
There is no principle of the heart that is more acceptable to God than a universal fervent love for all mankind, wishing and praying for their happiness, because there is no principle of the heart that makes us more like God, who is love and goodness itself...
The greatest idea that we can frame of God is when we conceive him to be a Being of infinite love and goodness, using an infinite wisdom and power for the common good and happiness of all his creatures. The highest notion, therefore, that we can form of man is when we conceive him as like to God in this respect as he can be, using all his finite faculties, whether of wisdom, power, or prayers, for the common good of all his fellow creatures, heartily desiring they may have all the happiness they are capable of…
Then Law turns his thinking around by speaking of the shadow possibility:
And on the other hand, what baseness and iniquity is there in all instances of hatred, envy, spite, and ill will, if we consider that every instance of them is so far acting in opposition to God and intending mischief and harm to those creatures which God favors, and protects, and preserves…
It is this shadow that Jesus addresses in today’s Gospel reading. Those who are poor now will one day be rich, those who mourn will be comforted, those who are meek will own the earth, those who dream of a world that is right will see that dream come to fruition, those who extend mercy will receive mercy. This world is not as it ought to be, but God’s everlasting, ever faithful love will overcome the worst that we can do to one another and God’s desire for blessedness, for human happiness, will prevail.
Jesus, who is God in flesh, who came to be the Light of the World so that we might have an example and a guide – a living embodiment of what God expects of us, said that it all comes down to this: Love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. Simple enough to hear, not so easy to live out, is it.
My record is marked with some success and marred by failures. And so I walk into this space today, more mindful than most days that I am standing in the presence of the Awesome, Holy God. I am doing God no favor by being here today. It is God who extends favor to me, granting me an audience whenever I am open to the possibility. I feel a little bit like the famous Oscar Wilde quote: “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” I don’t have much to commend myself, but I do hold on to the starry vision of who God wants me to be. Some days it is within my grasp and I take hold of it, while other days I reach for it not at all.
I am grateful for the words and witness of the Psalmist, of Micah, and of Jesus because they remind us to look at the stars. And there is something in those stars – love for God and love for our neighbor – that helps us to dwell – to abide – in God’s presence. And when we roll over in the gutter and lose sight of our holy calling, it is not God who sends us away, we are the ones who leave the holy hill. The good news is that the stars continue to shine and God continues to work for our happiness – happiness that comes from being in right relationship with God and with our neighbors. And it is good news that God is always and ever willing to grant us an audience. It is up to us to look toward God.
Today’s assigned readings from Scripture point us toward what I think is the third most important question human beings must consider: Since there is a God and since we can know God, what then does God expect from us? The poet of the 15th Psalm ponders:
Lord, who may dwell in your tabernacle?
Who may abide upon your holy hill?
The prophet Micah, in one of the most profound passages of the Old Testament, prayerfully considers:
With what shall I come before the Lord,
and bow myself before God on high?
“Should I bring an animal to sacrifice,” he asks? We might rephrase it, should I write a check? “Should I bring a thousand rams?” Should I write a really big check? “Should I pour out a river of oil?” Should I sit on the Vestry, serve on the Altar Guild, sing in the choir, pass out food to the needy, teach a class, never miss a Sunday, and basically be the best parishioner anyone has ever seen? “Should I offer up my first born for my sins and transgressions?” Should I tear myself apart for all the things I am that I should not be and for all the things I am not that I should be? What does God expect from us? What does God expect from you?
I must confess to you that I think I am too comfortable when I walk into church and when I seek to come into God’s presence. It is so easy to open the doors of the church, walk in, sit down, do the worship thing, and then move on without ever having a sense that I have presented myself to One Worthy beyond anything I can imagine. Stop and think about it for a minute. Are you comfortable when you enter this space? Casual? Complacent? Shouldn’t we be terrified or at least a little self-conscious! I think about how different Sunday feels when a bishop is visiting. On those occasions I am very much aware of things that are out of place. I am more in tune with where the parish is not up to snuff. And I am on heightened alert not to say or do the wrong thing. Heck, when a bishop visits I make it a point to get a hair-cut and have my shoes polished. But today I am more low-key because there is no bishop here to inspect us. The only One watching what we do today is us and God. God is watching! Shouldn’t that alarm us?
Now, I am not saying that to come to church you need to dress to the nines nor am I suggesting that authentic worship means trembling in fear for an hour. Scripture and our tradition present a variety of elements and responses that are appropriate in God’s presence. But Micah and the Psalmist remind us that God is an awe-inspiring Being and that to be in God’s presence elicits from us that third question: What does God want me to do and… am I doing it?
And what both Micah and the Psalmist realize is that the question needs to be reframed. It is not so much what God wants me to do as who God wants me to be. The Psalmist comes to see that God desires him or her to be a person of deep integrity: blameless, doing what is right, truthful, never speaking in a way that is wily or deceitful, not evil or contemptuous of others, honoring what is honorable and rejecting what is not, keeping your word at all costs, never taking advantage of the vulnerable. Micah, in his memorable words, describes the core of human integrity in just three poetic phrases: do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God. Such a person, the Psalmist says, not only can come into God’s presence, but remain/abide/dwell with God.
William Law was an 18th century English priest whose promising career took a big hit when, as a non-juror, he refused to swear allegiance to George I and remained loyal to his oath to James II. Not long after his fall from grace Law published his most famous work, A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, which to this day remains a devotional classic. Listen to Law’s words as he pursues the question of what God wants from us:
There is no principle of the heart that is more acceptable to God than a universal fervent love for all mankind, wishing and praying for their happiness, because there is no principle of the heart that makes us more like God, who is love and goodness itself...
The greatest idea that we can frame of God is when we conceive him to be a Being of infinite love and goodness, using an infinite wisdom and power for the common good and happiness of all his creatures. The highest notion, therefore, that we can form of man is when we conceive him as like to God in this respect as he can be, using all his finite faculties, whether of wisdom, power, or prayers, for the common good of all his fellow creatures, heartily desiring they may have all the happiness they are capable of…
Then Law turns his thinking around by speaking of the shadow possibility:
And on the other hand, what baseness and iniquity is there in all instances of hatred, envy, spite, and ill will, if we consider that every instance of them is so far acting in opposition to God and intending mischief and harm to those creatures which God favors, and protects, and preserves…
It is this shadow that Jesus addresses in today’s Gospel reading. Those who are poor now will one day be rich, those who mourn will be comforted, those who are meek will own the earth, those who dream of a world that is right will see that dream come to fruition, those who extend mercy will receive mercy. This world is not as it ought to be, but God’s everlasting, ever faithful love will overcome the worst that we can do to one another and God’s desire for blessedness, for human happiness, will prevail.
Jesus, who is God in flesh, who came to be the Light of the World so that we might have an example and a guide – a living embodiment of what God expects of us, said that it all comes down to this: Love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. Simple enough to hear, not so easy to live out, is it.
My record is marked with some success and marred by failures. And so I walk into this space today, more mindful than most days that I am standing in the presence of the Awesome, Holy God. I am doing God no favor by being here today. It is God who extends favor to me, granting me an audience whenever I am open to the possibility. I feel a little bit like the famous Oscar Wilde quote: “We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” I don’t have much to commend myself, but I do hold on to the starry vision of who God wants me to be. Some days it is within my grasp and I take hold of it, while other days I reach for it not at all.
I am grateful for the words and witness of the Psalmist, of Micah, and of Jesus because they remind us to look at the stars. And there is something in those stars – love for God and love for our neighbor – that helps us to dwell – to abide – in God’s presence. And when we roll over in the gutter and lose sight of our holy calling, it is not God who sends us away, we are the ones who leave the holy hill. The good news is that the stars continue to shine and God continues to work for our happiness – happiness that comes from being in right relationship with God and with our neighbors. And it is good news that God is always and ever willing to grant us an audience. It is up to us to look toward God.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Called by the Master Craftsman
Matthew 4:12-23
When Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
“Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali,
on the road by the sea, across the Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles--
the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light,
and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death
light has dawned."
From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea -- for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him.
As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.
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.
I am very excited about today’s football games: the Packers vs. the Bears and the Jets vs. the Steelers should be great match-ups. You may not know this, but growing up I played a little football. I was the backup quarterback and I was not very good. I did get into a game once when the starting quarterback was injured. The ball was on our three yard line and we were deep in a hole. It was second and long. As I put on my helmet to go into the coach, who had no confidence in me, told me this: “Don’t get cute out there. Hand the ball to the fullback on the first play. Hand the ball to the fullback on the second play. On the third play, drop back and punt the ball.” Well, I knew how to do what I was told. I took the first snap, turned and handed to the fullback. He broke through the line and picked up 30 yards. On the second play I handed it to him again. He got free and ran the ball all the way down to the five yard line before being pushed out of bounds. On the third play I took the snap, dropped back, and punted the ball through the end zone, past the goal post, and deep into the stands. As our team came off the field, the coach was livid. He shouted at me, “What in the world were you thinking when you called that last play?” “What was I thinking?” I answered. “I was thinking our coach sure calls some dumb plays!”
Anyone in charge of a team or an organization or a business or a family or an effort of any kind has to figure out how to get it all to work. It is no different for God. God is about the grand design of creating a kingdom here on earth. From a leadership perspective we might want to ponder how God operates. Is God like that coach: “Here are the plays I want you to run, now go out there and get it done”? Or is God like a chess player: sizing up each one of us and figuring out who has the talent to be a rook or a knight or a castle and who has the limited potential of pawn? Or is God like an experimental chef: “Let’s throw all these ingredients together, stir them up, turn on the heat, and see what happens”? Or is God something else?
Today’s Gospel reading tells the story of Jesus’ calling His first four disciples: brothers Peter and Andrew and brothers James and John. They are fishermen; hard-working small business owners who, while they have much to commend themselves, are hardly the people you would expect to lead a world-changing movement. Our President’s cabinet is stuffed with M.B.A.’s and Ph.D.’s, intellectuals and idealists, experienced military leaders and politicians. Peter, Andrew, James, and John would not be asked to join this esteemed council. The C.E.O. of Apple Computers surrounds himself with men and women skilled in development, marketing, and accounting. I don’t see Jesus’ first followers having much to contribute here either.
If Jesus is going to call the plays they are to run He is going to run head-first into their limited skill sets. If He is going to use them as pieces on the chess board of life, all He has done is pick a pack of pawns. And if He is going to throw them together the way the chef throws together ingredients, don’t hope for a banquet because Jesus will be lucky to get something as tasty as a cracker out of these four.
Still, these are the four people Jesus starts with and history shows that they launched a movement that has, in fact, changed the world. We might want to ask ourselves how did it happen and what does it suggest about Jesus’ “leadership style,” and what implications does it hold for each one of us, since we are all now a part of Jesus’ team.
If the metaphors of Jesus as coach or as chess player or as chef come up lacking, is there an image that helps us better understand how He leads? One that I find helpful comes from an unlikely source: Carla Needleman’s guidebook for woodworkers called The Work of Crafts. In it she says this:
It is as if the honorable craftsman in his journey of exploration of the material asks, “What can this wood, this clay, or this glass, do?” instead of “What can I do with it?” For that he has to listen to the material, entreat it, support it where it needs support, and to be tough and demanding with himself, even more demanding than he is with the material.
Did you catch that? What is this material capable of doing, not what can I do with it! This, in a nutshell, is what Jesus considers as He calls the four fishermen. He certainly has His vision set – He is going to bring God’s Kingdom to earth. But He will not do it by manipulating His followers’ actions nor by leaving them to their own devices. He will work with them and their individual uniqueness because there is something emerging in each one of them that will give the Kingdom its shape and form.
I think my own leadership style has changed over the course of my time in the ordained ministry. When I was younger I used to talk about “getting the church to do this” or “getting the church to do that.” Good ministry meant the ability to make a parish look the way I wanted it to look, to act the way I wanted it to act, to do what I wanted it to do. And its not that my ideas and expectations for a congregation were all that bad, in fact they were pretty good. They had been shaped through theological study and refined by experiences in multiple ministry sites.
But over the years I have become less the authoritarian and more the craftsman. I look at St. Paul’s and ask not what do I want this church to be, but what can it be. What can it be for each person here? What can it be for our community? What can it be for our diocese? What can it be for God? Each one of us, with your unique set of gifts and experiences shapes what this parish is and can become for God.
Years ago a member of the parish I was serving heard about a fantastic ministry in another congregation in another state. It had a group of men who offered to do basic car repairs and maintenance for elderly parishioners. They changed a car’s oil, did other routine upkeep, and offered advise about bigger repairs. It sounded like a great ministry. Why can’t we do that here, our parishioner wondered. The answer was pretty simple: no one in our parish had the skills to offer for that kind of ministry. It just was not a part of the grain in our wood. Never-the-less, that parish, like St. Paul’s, is a good parish where unique gifts and talents and abilities are being offered. We are not called to be like every other parish, we are called to be faithful to who we are and to what we can become.
A part of my daily devotional time is spent keeping up with the saints of the Episcopal Church. Three books help me with this: Holy Women, Holy Men – a description of each saint along with scripture readings and a prayer, Brightest and Best – a very interesting set of reflections on many of the saints, and They Still Speak – original source material from some of the saints. I am amazed at how many of them were ordinary or even limited folks who still managed to do memorable things.
On January 19, we celebrated the life and ministry of Wulfstan, a monastic who only reluctantly accepted the appointment as Bishop of Worchester. He was only English born bishop to retain his see after the Norman Conquest in 1066. All other bishops were replaced by French born, French speaking clerics. Wulfstan had limited education and could not speak French or read Latin and that deficiency put him at a severe disadvantage. And yet he had other qualities which endeared him to the people. He was pious, prayerful, humble, and a faithful administrator. And even as an outsider to the Norman court he was instrumental in putting an end to the slave trade that sold Englishmen to Ireland.
Listen to this quote from some devotional material I read this week:
We say, ‘Here I am, Lord’ when He calls. He calls continually to the willing and the unwilling. It is not so much our ability He has need of, but our availability.
Jesus still walks the shores today, looking at each one of us and pondering what we might become in the kingdom of God. Jesus still invites us to drop our nets and to follow Him. It is not so much our ability He calls as our availability. And when we become available incredible things begin to happen as God allows what is within in us to emerge in service to His kingdom.
Let me close with this quote from Sam Portaro’s book Brightest and Best in which he reflects on one lesson we learn from Wulfstan’s life:
Walking with God, we find ourselves well beyond the limits of our well-reasoned design, in places where all reason says we cannot be. We find ourselves where we never dreamed we would be, seeing things we never dreamed we would see, saying things we never dreamed we would say, doing things we never dreamed we would do, accomplishing what we never dreamed we could accomplish. We find ourselves by God’s side as God’s friend. If we are truly wise, we will not ask how or why. We will just be thankful and keep walking [with Jesus].
When Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
“Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali,
on the road by the sea, across the Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles--
the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light,
and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death
light has dawned."
From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea -- for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him.
As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.
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.
I am very excited about today’s football games: the Packers vs. the Bears and the Jets vs. the Steelers should be great match-ups. You may not know this, but growing up I played a little football. I was the backup quarterback and I was not very good. I did get into a game once when the starting quarterback was injured. The ball was on our three yard line and we were deep in a hole. It was second and long. As I put on my helmet to go into the coach, who had no confidence in me, told me this: “Don’t get cute out there. Hand the ball to the fullback on the first play. Hand the ball to the fullback on the second play. On the third play, drop back and punt the ball.” Well, I knew how to do what I was told. I took the first snap, turned and handed to the fullback. He broke through the line and picked up 30 yards. On the second play I handed it to him again. He got free and ran the ball all the way down to the five yard line before being pushed out of bounds. On the third play I took the snap, dropped back, and punted the ball through the end zone, past the goal post, and deep into the stands. As our team came off the field, the coach was livid. He shouted at me, “What in the world were you thinking when you called that last play?” “What was I thinking?” I answered. “I was thinking our coach sure calls some dumb plays!”
Anyone in charge of a team or an organization or a business or a family or an effort of any kind has to figure out how to get it all to work. It is no different for God. God is about the grand design of creating a kingdom here on earth. From a leadership perspective we might want to ponder how God operates. Is God like that coach: “Here are the plays I want you to run, now go out there and get it done”? Or is God like a chess player: sizing up each one of us and figuring out who has the talent to be a rook or a knight or a castle and who has the limited potential of pawn? Or is God like an experimental chef: “Let’s throw all these ingredients together, stir them up, turn on the heat, and see what happens”? Or is God something else?
Today’s Gospel reading tells the story of Jesus’ calling His first four disciples: brothers Peter and Andrew and brothers James and John. They are fishermen; hard-working small business owners who, while they have much to commend themselves, are hardly the people you would expect to lead a world-changing movement. Our President’s cabinet is stuffed with M.B.A.’s and Ph.D.’s, intellectuals and idealists, experienced military leaders and politicians. Peter, Andrew, James, and John would not be asked to join this esteemed council. The C.E.O. of Apple Computers surrounds himself with men and women skilled in development, marketing, and accounting. I don’t see Jesus’ first followers having much to contribute here either.
If Jesus is going to call the plays they are to run He is going to run head-first into their limited skill sets. If He is going to use them as pieces on the chess board of life, all He has done is pick a pack of pawns. And if He is going to throw them together the way the chef throws together ingredients, don’t hope for a banquet because Jesus will be lucky to get something as tasty as a cracker out of these four.
Still, these are the four people Jesus starts with and history shows that they launched a movement that has, in fact, changed the world. We might want to ask ourselves how did it happen and what does it suggest about Jesus’ “leadership style,” and what implications does it hold for each one of us, since we are all now a part of Jesus’ team.
If the metaphors of Jesus as coach or as chess player or as chef come up lacking, is there an image that helps us better understand how He leads? One that I find helpful comes from an unlikely source: Carla Needleman’s guidebook for woodworkers called The Work of Crafts. In it she says this:
It is as if the honorable craftsman in his journey of exploration of the material asks, “What can this wood, this clay, or this glass, do?” instead of “What can I do with it?” For that he has to listen to the material, entreat it, support it where it needs support, and to be tough and demanding with himself, even more demanding than he is with the material.
Did you catch that? What is this material capable of doing, not what can I do with it! This, in a nutshell, is what Jesus considers as He calls the four fishermen. He certainly has His vision set – He is going to bring God’s Kingdom to earth. But He will not do it by manipulating His followers’ actions nor by leaving them to their own devices. He will work with them and their individual uniqueness because there is something emerging in each one of them that will give the Kingdom its shape and form.
I think my own leadership style has changed over the course of my time in the ordained ministry. When I was younger I used to talk about “getting the church to do this” or “getting the church to do that.” Good ministry meant the ability to make a parish look the way I wanted it to look, to act the way I wanted it to act, to do what I wanted it to do. And its not that my ideas and expectations for a congregation were all that bad, in fact they were pretty good. They had been shaped through theological study and refined by experiences in multiple ministry sites.
But over the years I have become less the authoritarian and more the craftsman. I look at St. Paul’s and ask not what do I want this church to be, but what can it be. What can it be for each person here? What can it be for our community? What can it be for our diocese? What can it be for God? Each one of us, with your unique set of gifts and experiences shapes what this parish is and can become for God.
Years ago a member of the parish I was serving heard about a fantastic ministry in another congregation in another state. It had a group of men who offered to do basic car repairs and maintenance for elderly parishioners. They changed a car’s oil, did other routine upkeep, and offered advise about bigger repairs. It sounded like a great ministry. Why can’t we do that here, our parishioner wondered. The answer was pretty simple: no one in our parish had the skills to offer for that kind of ministry. It just was not a part of the grain in our wood. Never-the-less, that parish, like St. Paul’s, is a good parish where unique gifts and talents and abilities are being offered. We are not called to be like every other parish, we are called to be faithful to who we are and to what we can become.
A part of my daily devotional time is spent keeping up with the saints of the Episcopal Church. Three books help me with this: Holy Women, Holy Men – a description of each saint along with scripture readings and a prayer, Brightest and Best – a very interesting set of reflections on many of the saints, and They Still Speak – original source material from some of the saints. I am amazed at how many of them were ordinary or even limited folks who still managed to do memorable things.
On January 19, we celebrated the life and ministry of Wulfstan, a monastic who only reluctantly accepted the appointment as Bishop of Worchester. He was only English born bishop to retain his see after the Norman Conquest in 1066. All other bishops were replaced by French born, French speaking clerics. Wulfstan had limited education and could not speak French or read Latin and that deficiency put him at a severe disadvantage. And yet he had other qualities which endeared him to the people. He was pious, prayerful, humble, and a faithful administrator. And even as an outsider to the Norman court he was instrumental in putting an end to the slave trade that sold Englishmen to Ireland.
Listen to this quote from some devotional material I read this week:
We say, ‘Here I am, Lord’ when He calls. He calls continually to the willing and the unwilling. It is not so much our ability He has need of, but our availability.
Jesus still walks the shores today, looking at each one of us and pondering what we might become in the kingdom of God. Jesus still invites us to drop our nets and to follow Him. It is not so much our ability He calls as our availability. And when we become available incredible things begin to happen as God allows what is within in us to emerge in service to His kingdom.
Let me close with this quote from Sam Portaro’s book Brightest and Best in which he reflects on one lesson we learn from Wulfstan’s life:
Walking with God, we find ourselves well beyond the limits of our well-reasoned design, in places where all reason says we cannot be. We find ourselves where we never dreamed we would be, seeing things we never dreamed we would see, saying things we never dreamed we would say, doing things we never dreamed we would do, accomplishing what we never dreamed we could accomplish. We find ourselves by God’s side as God’s friend. If we are truly wise, we will not ask how or why. We will just be thankful and keep walking [with Jesus].
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Sit & Listen vs. Come & See
John 1:29-42
John saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.”
And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.”
The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”
The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon.
One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).
There is something slightly comical about the beginning of today’s reading from the Gospel. John the Baptist has amassed something of a following; disciples who have come out into the wilderness to listen to him rant about sin and society and the coming Messiah. Well, John has found the Messiah, has baptized Him, and in today’s reading is trying hard to get folks to follow Him, but no one is seems to get it. Its like going to a concert and the crowd refuses to let the warm-up band off the stage. “Are you ready to hear the Rolling Stones?” John shouts into the microphone after running through a set of his own songs. But day in and day out the crowd just sits in their seats tapping their toes to the tune John is humming.
Why don’t they get it? Some of the responsibility lies with John’s followers. They simply don’t understand. But I think the lion’s share falls on John the Baptist. His message just doesn’t connect with his audience – and boy do I know how that feels. Listen again to what John says:
“Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”
“This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’”
“I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.”
“I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.”
“I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.”
All of that is a real mouthful. Now, I consider myself to be an educated person, I have several academic degrees, and I’m not sure I understand everything John is trying to say here. Its doctrinal. Its creedal in nature. Its deeply theological. And apparently for John’s followers, it is not intelligible because they do nothing with the information.
So the next day John tries a new strategy; a back to the basics approach. When he sees Jesus walking by he says to his followers, “Look, here is the Lamb of God.”
Well, that is plain enough and John’s disciples seem to take the bait. Two of them approach Jesus and He asks them what they are looking for. Their response is very telling. They address Jesus as ‘rabbi,’ which means teacher. Apparently they are looking for more of the same deep, theological insight that they got from John. They did not understand His message and give every evidence that they will be happy not to understand Jesus as well. “John told us now we need to follow you so that you can talk over our heads the way he did.”
Jesus’ response is also very telling. They want to know where He is staying and so the one they called ‘rabbi’ says, “Come and see.” Typically rabbis sit down to teach, directing their followers to gather around for instruction. It is a passive, intellectual approach to discipleship. When Jesus says “come and see” it is the exact opposite of “sit and listen.” For Jesus, discipleship begins with a willingness to be on a journey and to be open to all that unfolds along the way. Yes, there will be times of instruction, but from Jesus’ perspective experience is the great teacher and learning arises from reflecting on the meaning of what has happened.
Today, at our Annual Meeting, we elect four new members to St. Paul’s Vestry. There are only two criteria to run for this office: first, the person has to be at least sixteen years old and second, he or she must be a member of the parish in good standing. We don’t ask candidates to recite the books of the bible in order. We don’t have them write an essay. We don’t make them stand in front of the congregation and give a speech. The one single thing each of these four candidates has done is to respond to the invitation, “come and see.” They are willing to undertake a three-year journey and to be open to God’s call along the way. That is what Jesus was looking for in His disciples and that is exactly what we need in parish leadership.
Think about it. You can only learn so much about sailing tied up at the dock. The maps you draw of the world will be pretty vague if you never leave your home port. Yes, you can fall in love with the sea by listening to a salty old sailor tell his tales, but at some point you have to set sail yourself. Come and See: with just three words Jesus communicates to Andrew and the other disciple that He is not about doctrinal statements, not about creedal formulas, and not about theological discourses. Discipleship in the Kingdom of God as Jesus understands it involves movement and reflection.
As the gospels unfold we see that this movement always leads to encounters with human beings; people in need of healing or forgiveness or purpose or correction. These encounters inevitably lead to questions:
• Who is worthy in God’s eyes?
• How are we to understand God’s commands in light of our own circumstances?
• How should we treat one another?
The questions that arise from human encounters invite reflection and give birth to deep, new insight. This is the path of discipleship that Jesus offers to those early followers of John, and to us.
Well, it must have made an impression on Andrew because after meeting Jesus he runs off and summons his brother, Simon. “We have found the Messiah”, he tells him. I wonder if Simon thought to himself, “Perfect, another Rabbi to put me to sleep with his dry, dull teaching.” But off he goes with his brother to meet not a Rabbi who says “sit down and listen to me while I pontificate,” but the Messiah who says, “get ready to follow Me wherever I may lead you.”
Well, the Gospel reading ends as curiously as it begins. Jesus, upon meeting Simon says, “From now on, let’s call you ‘Peter’.” Why the name change? At this point in the story, who knows. But it indicates something very revealing about Jesus’ “come and see” approach. On the journey of experience the meaning of a thing is not always obvious at first. It may come only after a period of reflection. It would take years for Simon to understand why Jesus wanted to call him “the rock,” but for now, simply moving, following, getting involved is enough.
Jesus invites each one of us to come and see, to be a part of His kingdom as we continue on with the journey of life, to be actively engaged in Christian ministry and reflection, and to live comfortably with mystery knowing all the while that God, in God’s time, will help us to understand all things.
John saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.”
And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.”
The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”
The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon.
One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).
There is something slightly comical about the beginning of today’s reading from the Gospel. John the Baptist has amassed something of a following; disciples who have come out into the wilderness to listen to him rant about sin and society and the coming Messiah. Well, John has found the Messiah, has baptized Him, and in today’s reading is trying hard to get folks to follow Him, but no one is seems to get it. Its like going to a concert and the crowd refuses to let the warm-up band off the stage. “Are you ready to hear the Rolling Stones?” John shouts into the microphone after running through a set of his own songs. But day in and day out the crowd just sits in their seats tapping their toes to the tune John is humming.
Why don’t they get it? Some of the responsibility lies with John’s followers. They simply don’t understand. But I think the lion’s share falls on John the Baptist. His message just doesn’t connect with his audience – and boy do I know how that feels. Listen again to what John says:
“Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”
“This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’”
“I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.”
“I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.”
“I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.”
All of that is a real mouthful. Now, I consider myself to be an educated person, I have several academic degrees, and I’m not sure I understand everything John is trying to say here. Its doctrinal. Its creedal in nature. Its deeply theological. And apparently for John’s followers, it is not intelligible because they do nothing with the information.
So the next day John tries a new strategy; a back to the basics approach. When he sees Jesus walking by he says to his followers, “Look, here is the Lamb of God.”
Well, that is plain enough and John’s disciples seem to take the bait. Two of them approach Jesus and He asks them what they are looking for. Their response is very telling. They address Jesus as ‘rabbi,’ which means teacher. Apparently they are looking for more of the same deep, theological insight that they got from John. They did not understand His message and give every evidence that they will be happy not to understand Jesus as well. “John told us now we need to follow you so that you can talk over our heads the way he did.”
Jesus’ response is also very telling. They want to know where He is staying and so the one they called ‘rabbi’ says, “Come and see.” Typically rabbis sit down to teach, directing their followers to gather around for instruction. It is a passive, intellectual approach to discipleship. When Jesus says “come and see” it is the exact opposite of “sit and listen.” For Jesus, discipleship begins with a willingness to be on a journey and to be open to all that unfolds along the way. Yes, there will be times of instruction, but from Jesus’ perspective experience is the great teacher and learning arises from reflecting on the meaning of what has happened.
Today, at our Annual Meeting, we elect four new members to St. Paul’s Vestry. There are only two criteria to run for this office: first, the person has to be at least sixteen years old and second, he or she must be a member of the parish in good standing. We don’t ask candidates to recite the books of the bible in order. We don’t have them write an essay. We don’t make them stand in front of the congregation and give a speech. The one single thing each of these four candidates has done is to respond to the invitation, “come and see.” They are willing to undertake a three-year journey and to be open to God’s call along the way. That is what Jesus was looking for in His disciples and that is exactly what we need in parish leadership.
Think about it. You can only learn so much about sailing tied up at the dock. The maps you draw of the world will be pretty vague if you never leave your home port. Yes, you can fall in love with the sea by listening to a salty old sailor tell his tales, but at some point you have to set sail yourself. Come and See: with just three words Jesus communicates to Andrew and the other disciple that He is not about doctrinal statements, not about creedal formulas, and not about theological discourses. Discipleship in the Kingdom of God as Jesus understands it involves movement and reflection.
As the gospels unfold we see that this movement always leads to encounters with human beings; people in need of healing or forgiveness or purpose or correction. These encounters inevitably lead to questions:
• Who is worthy in God’s eyes?
• How are we to understand God’s commands in light of our own circumstances?
• How should we treat one another?
The questions that arise from human encounters invite reflection and give birth to deep, new insight. This is the path of discipleship that Jesus offers to those early followers of John, and to us.
Well, it must have made an impression on Andrew because after meeting Jesus he runs off and summons his brother, Simon. “We have found the Messiah”, he tells him. I wonder if Simon thought to himself, “Perfect, another Rabbi to put me to sleep with his dry, dull teaching.” But off he goes with his brother to meet not a Rabbi who says “sit down and listen to me while I pontificate,” but the Messiah who says, “get ready to follow Me wherever I may lead you.”
Well, the Gospel reading ends as curiously as it begins. Jesus, upon meeting Simon says, “From now on, let’s call you ‘Peter’.” Why the name change? At this point in the story, who knows. But it indicates something very revealing about Jesus’ “come and see” approach. On the journey of experience the meaning of a thing is not always obvious at first. It may come only after a period of reflection. It would take years for Simon to understand why Jesus wanted to call him “the rock,” but for now, simply moving, following, getting involved is enough.
Jesus invites each one of us to come and see, to be a part of His kingdom as we continue on with the journey of life, to be actively engaged in Christian ministry and reflection, and to live comfortably with mystery knowing all the while that God, in God’s time, will help us to understand all things.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Faithfulness in Ordinary Living
The story of Jesus’ life unfolds with amazing swiftness. In just a little over two weeks we have covered almost all that we know of His first thirty years. You know as well as I the stories:
* Jesus is born in Bethlehem in a stable and visited by shepherds.
* Eight days later Mary and Joseph take their baby to Jerusalem to present Him in the Temple. There they are met by Anna and Simeon.
* Back at Bethlehem some time later the family is visited by magi from the east who present Jesus with gold (a gift befitting a king), incense (a gift befitting God), and myrrh (a burial ointment).
* Being warned in a dream of danger, Joseph takes his family to Egypt.
* Being told in a dream that it is safe to return, Joseph brings his family back to Israel and settles in Nazareth where he establishes himself as a carpenter.
* Before Jesus turns twelve, the family goes on a pilgrimage to the Temple where Jesus amazes the learned scholars with His knowledge and insight.
That is it. That is all we know about Jesus prior to this morning’s reading from the Gospel. Based on what we know about Jesus after His baptism, we can conclude that while growing up He learned how to read (but we have no evidence that He could write), He was known throughout His community and attended Synagogue, He developed a theology about God’s nature and person, He developed a life of prayer, and He developed a keen interest in how everyday occurrences point to deeper spiritual truths.
All of this that we know still is not much. And yet whatever happened during those years it was enough for God the Father to say of Jesus as He stood knee deep in the Jordan River, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
The English writer Evelyn Underhill, in her book The Light of Christ, helps us to understand the significance of this:
New life grows in secret. Nothing very startling happens. We see the child in the carpenter’s workshop. He does not go outside the frontiers from in which he appeared. It did quite well for him... The child Jesus grows as other children, the lad works as other lads. Total abandonment to the vast divine purpose working at its own pace in and through ordinary life and often, to us, in mysterious ways…
Think of the baby in the stable and the little boy in the streets of Nazareth. The very life was there which was to change the whole of history of the human race. There was not much to show for it. But there is entire continuity between the stable and the Easter garden and the thread that unites them is the will of God. The childlike simple prayer of Nazareth was the right preparation for the awful privilege of the cross.
And then Evelyn Underhill points to what this means for us:
We often feel we ought to get on quickly to a new stage like spiritual mayflies. Christ takes thirty years to grow and two and half to act... And when his growth reached the right stage, there is the revelation of God’s call and after it, stress, discipline, and choice. Those things came together as signs of maturity and they were not spectacular things. It is much the same with us in our life of prayer: the Spirit fills us as we grow, develop, and make room.
We get notions sometimes that we ought to spring up quickly like a seed on stony ground, we ought to show some startling sign of spiritual growth. But perhaps we are only asked to go on quietly, to be like a child, a nice stocky seedling, not shooting up in a hurry, but making root, being docile to the great slow rhythm of life. When you don’t see any startling marks of your own religious condition or your usefulness to God, [think of how Jesus grew and know that] the light of the Spirit…unfolds gently and steadily within us, till at last our final stature, all God designed for us, is attained.
On this day when we see the adult Jesus take His place on the stage of life we remember the slow, steady rhythm of faithful living that prepared Him. And thinking of this we offer our days to God; our days of monotonous routine and never-ending chores; our days of casual interactions and insignificant courtesies; our days of rote prayers and intermittent insights… through it all God has a way on working in us, with us, and through us.
When Jesus stepped into the Jordan River the only thing on His résumé of note was that He had dedicated himself to the task of faithful living. And this, apparently, was enough for God to be pleased with Him and it was enough to prepare Him for what God wanted Him to do. From this I take it that God is pleased with us when we too are dedicated to the simple task of faithful living and that we too are being prepared for all that God might call us to do.
Perhaps you look at the quietness of your life and realize that your time to act, to make your mark, is yet to come. If that is you, then be faithful in the ordinary things of today and you will be well-prepared when that moment arrives. Or perhaps you look at the quietness of your life and realize that your time to act is past. You have made your mark, you have done your part. If this is you then know that there is always a new opportunity on the horizon; some way that you can contribute to common good.
Or perhaps your life is anything but quiet because you have stepped out of the river and are now about the business of your life’s purpose; working hard, raising children, building a life. If this is where you are then do this: do not forget all that you learned when life was simple. Remember all those things that went into making you who you are today. Surely the baptized Jesus carried with Him much of what He experienced as a boy, and a teenager, and as a young adult. So if you are in the midst of making your mark, do not forget the value of friendships and time alone. Remember that chores need to be balanced with hobbies; assignments with adventures. Remember how your faith sprung up from a sense of mystery, wonder, and simple trust.
And may each one of us, when our feet are immersed in the waters of life hear the voice of God saying, “You are my child and with you I am well-pleased.”
* Jesus is born in Bethlehem in a stable and visited by shepherds.
* Eight days later Mary and Joseph take their baby to Jerusalem to present Him in the Temple. There they are met by Anna and Simeon.
* Back at Bethlehem some time later the family is visited by magi from the east who present Jesus with gold (a gift befitting a king), incense (a gift befitting God), and myrrh (a burial ointment).
* Being warned in a dream of danger, Joseph takes his family to Egypt.
* Being told in a dream that it is safe to return, Joseph brings his family back to Israel and settles in Nazareth where he establishes himself as a carpenter.
* Before Jesus turns twelve, the family goes on a pilgrimage to the Temple where Jesus amazes the learned scholars with His knowledge and insight.
That is it. That is all we know about Jesus prior to this morning’s reading from the Gospel. Based on what we know about Jesus after His baptism, we can conclude that while growing up He learned how to read (but we have no evidence that He could write), He was known throughout His community and attended Synagogue, He developed a theology about God’s nature and person, He developed a life of prayer, and He developed a keen interest in how everyday occurrences point to deeper spiritual truths.
All of this that we know still is not much. And yet whatever happened during those years it was enough for God the Father to say of Jesus as He stood knee deep in the Jordan River, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
The English writer Evelyn Underhill, in her book The Light of Christ, helps us to understand the significance of this:
New life grows in secret. Nothing very startling happens. We see the child in the carpenter’s workshop. He does not go outside the frontiers from in which he appeared. It did quite well for him... The child Jesus grows as other children, the lad works as other lads. Total abandonment to the vast divine purpose working at its own pace in and through ordinary life and often, to us, in mysterious ways…
Think of the baby in the stable and the little boy in the streets of Nazareth. The very life was there which was to change the whole of history of the human race. There was not much to show for it. But there is entire continuity between the stable and the Easter garden and the thread that unites them is the will of God. The childlike simple prayer of Nazareth was the right preparation for the awful privilege of the cross.
And then Evelyn Underhill points to what this means for us:
We often feel we ought to get on quickly to a new stage like spiritual mayflies. Christ takes thirty years to grow and two and half to act... And when his growth reached the right stage, there is the revelation of God’s call and after it, stress, discipline, and choice. Those things came together as signs of maturity and they were not spectacular things. It is much the same with us in our life of prayer: the Spirit fills us as we grow, develop, and make room.
We get notions sometimes that we ought to spring up quickly like a seed on stony ground, we ought to show some startling sign of spiritual growth. But perhaps we are only asked to go on quietly, to be like a child, a nice stocky seedling, not shooting up in a hurry, but making root, being docile to the great slow rhythm of life. When you don’t see any startling marks of your own religious condition or your usefulness to God, [think of how Jesus grew and know that] the light of the Spirit…unfolds gently and steadily within us, till at last our final stature, all God designed for us, is attained.
On this day when we see the adult Jesus take His place on the stage of life we remember the slow, steady rhythm of faithful living that prepared Him. And thinking of this we offer our days to God; our days of monotonous routine and never-ending chores; our days of casual interactions and insignificant courtesies; our days of rote prayers and intermittent insights… through it all God has a way on working in us, with us, and through us.
When Jesus stepped into the Jordan River the only thing on His résumé of note was that He had dedicated himself to the task of faithful living. And this, apparently, was enough for God to be pleased with Him and it was enough to prepare Him for what God wanted Him to do. From this I take it that God is pleased with us when we too are dedicated to the simple task of faithful living and that we too are being prepared for all that God might call us to do.
Perhaps you look at the quietness of your life and realize that your time to act, to make your mark, is yet to come. If that is you, then be faithful in the ordinary things of today and you will be well-prepared when that moment arrives. Or perhaps you look at the quietness of your life and realize that your time to act is past. You have made your mark, you have done your part. If this is you then know that there is always a new opportunity on the horizon; some way that you can contribute to common good.
Or perhaps your life is anything but quiet because you have stepped out of the river and are now about the business of your life’s purpose; working hard, raising children, building a life. If this is where you are then do this: do not forget all that you learned when life was simple. Remember all those things that went into making you who you are today. Surely the baptized Jesus carried with Him much of what He experienced as a boy, and a teenager, and as a young adult. So if you are in the midst of making your mark, do not forget the value of friendships and time alone. Remember that chores need to be balanced with hobbies; assignments with adventures. Remember how your faith sprung up from a sense of mystery, wonder, and simple trust.
And may each one of us, when our feet are immersed in the waters of life hear the voice of God saying, “You are my child and with you I am well-pleased.”
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