Brighter Light & Deeper Darkness

“As long as I am in the world, I am the Light of the world.”

Our Lenten gospel readings are taking us through the basic elements, aren’t they!  Two weeks ago it was wind, last week water, and now today it is light. Did you know that the word ‘lent’ has a Germanic origin and originally meant spring or, even more precisely, lengthening (as in more hours of sunlight).  Even with this winter’s awful weather, there is no mistaking that the days are getting longer.  But while light is coming into our world with earlier sunrises and later sunsets, our Gospel readings foreshadow a growing darkness.  It feels like the more Jesus shines the Light of God’s love the deeper and more resistant the darkness around him becomes. 

In today’s reading, Jesus’ attention is drawn to a person who has been blind from birth.  The disciples use the occasion to ask their teacher a theological question: Why was this person born blind?  Was it on account of his sin or his parents?  The assumption behind the question is obvious: someone, somewhere, sometime in the past must have sinned and the blindness represents God’s punishment.  Jesus’ response, in effect, is this: “Do you think God uses divine power to cause misery as a way to dole out judgment?  That kind of thinking is rubbish!  Let me show you what God’s power is intended to do.”  And with that, the Light of the world gives sight to a person blind from birth.

You would think such a wonderful event would be cause for celebration, for thanksgiving, for praising God, but it is not.  It serves to muster the forces of darkness.  Questionings, interrogations, accusations, insults, and intimidation follow.  It is a story of one person’s new-found faith knotted in a very real fear of attack.  It is a story of reversals where those in authority are blind to who Jesus is, but a person once blind can see his identity clearly.  And ultimately, it is a story where the person who now can see is driven away by the community of the blind.

The themes of light and darkness play a significant role in John’s gospel.  Nicodemus comes to Jesus under the cover of night.  Peter denies his Lord at night.  On Easter morning, Mary leaves for the tomb while it is still dark.  John begins his gospel by telling his readers that Jesus was the Light for all people, that the Light shined in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.  Well, the darkness may not overcome the light, but it sure tries. 

When light shines in darkness it exposes two kinds of people: those who are lost and groping to find their way (and for them the light is a welcome relief) and those who live in the dark so that their works will not be exposed (and for them, the light is unwelcome and sends them scurrying for cover).  As I said, the brighter Jesus shines the deeper the darkness around him seems to become.  He can scarcely say or do a thing without stirring up controversy because those in authority love the darkness and always react negatively to his light. 

2,000 years later and I wonder how much things have changed.  Many of Jesus’ followers seem overly concerned about determining who is good enough and who is not, who is a sinner and who is not, who deserves to be blessed by God and who does not, whose doctrine and theology and practices are acceptable to God and whose are not.  At times the church seems more caught up in shining a light of judgment to expose the deeds of others rather than being a light that helps people to find their way to God. 

And it seems to go hand in hand that when you focus on the faults of others you grow blind to your own shortcomings.  Continually pointing the finger at others seems to diminish one’s ability (or perhaps desire) to engage in critical self-reflection.  Jesus once put it this way: “Why do you focus on the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but ignore the log in your own eye?” 

I trust you saw the news a few weeks ago that Fred Phelps, the founder of Westboro Baptist Church, died a lonely and broken man – rejected by family members and the church he founded.  Phelps and the Westboro congregation gained national notoriety by protesting at military funerals and using various tactics to intimidate church-goers who they deemed to be sinners.  Reaction to his death was interesting, to say the least.  Many people posted angry comments suggesting that crowds should picket his burial so that his family and supporters could get a taste of their own medicine.  One person went so far as to suggest that the military should send a transport plane to fly over the proceedings and dump garbage on everyone.  In one form or another, people were holding tight to that old moral dictum of an eye for an eye.

But I found a different sentiment being expressed by many people of faith.  Several priests I know said they would offer prayers for Fred Phelps during Sunday worship.  “We pray for our enemies and love those who persecute us because this is what Jesus taught us to do”, one posted.  Others stated that in burial Phelps should be afforded the dignity he so often denied to others.  And while this kind of response goes against the grain of the emotions that well up in us so naturally, it is in keeping with our own baptismal covenant.  When we say the words of the covenant, we do not make conditional commitments.  We never promise only to respect the dignity of those who deserve to be respected.  We promise to respect the dignity of every human being.  When we act like this we become a light for the world, helping the lost to find their way.

Over the next few weeks we will witness Jesus’ determination to shine God’s love and light all the way to the darkest place imaginable, to the darkest moment in human history, to the cross.  His unflinching grit and determination is an example we seek to emulate, but often fall short of achieving.  Still, whenever we find ourselves immersed in darkness, we know that there is a Light to which we can turn for strength, for guidance, and for support. 

Jesus said, “As long as I am in the world, I am the Light of the world!”

 

A Sermon at the Celebration of the Life of Stephanie Freel

St. Paul wrote, “No wonder we do not lose heart.  Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day.”

For the last nine years Stephanie Freel knew she had a significant health concern.  In my limited experience, people in this position tend to live life differently than the rest of us.  It is easier for us to go through the rhythm of the day and the week and the month and the year somewhat removed from the reality of our own mortality.  That was not an option for Stephanie.  While she surely did not grasp that this day would come so soon, she knew it would come one day and she knew that that day could be any time.  As a result, she engaged life more intentionally, more focused, more with the sense that no moment should be wasted because there is no assurance that another moment is guaranteed.  Not that she wore all of this on her sleeve, but it was a driving and renewing force in her soul.

In his book To Bless the Space between Us, John O’Donohue writes about how death walks beside us from the moment we are born and that from time to time, for a brief time, we see its face.  He writes of the blessing this reality can bring to our lives, praying…

That the silent presence of your death

  would call your life to attention,
  wake you up to how scarce your time is
  and to the urgency to become free
  and equal to the call of your destiny.

That you would gather yourself

  and decide carefully
  how you now can live
  the life you would love
  to look back on
  from your deathbed.

While of course Stephanie would never have wished to leave us so soon, I have the strong sense that she, looking back now, is pleased with how she lived each and every day she had.  That her life was called to attention is a great gift to each of us who knew her.  It is a witness to what each of us should and can do with the time we have. 

Some years ago Stephanie heard this passage from Khalil Gabran’s The Prophet and it spoke something to her:

“You would know the secret of death.  But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?  If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.  For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.”

“Opening your heart wide to life” is an apt description of how Stephanie lived hers. 

I was never very good at math, but perhaps this equation will redeem me:  S.D. x O.G. = Q.L.  In other words, (S.D.) Suddenness of Death multiplied by the (O.G.) Outpouring of Grief tells you everything you need to know about (Q.L.) the Quality of a person’s Life.  What I see here this morning – Stephanie’s husband and daughter and parents and brother and extended family and neighbors and friends and church members and clients and colleagues and fellow partners in the various other activities, organizations, and endeavors she was involved in is a deep, trustworthy, and indisputable record, that Stephanie opened her heart to life in a way that was rare, wonderful, and extraordinary. 

I will always remember Stephanie for the way she blended two marvelous, distinctive qualities: moxie and kindness.  Moxie: she was a force of determination with opinions, ideas, and values that were set in stone (and occasionally shared without warning!)  Kindness:  Raise your hand if you ever received a note from Stephanie thanking you for something or praising you for something or offering comfort or encouragement when you were facing a challenge.

Moxie and kindness.  Before the service, Stephanie’s mother shared some memories she wanted me to share.  Apparently the family moved around quite a bit when Stephanie was a child.  Each time they moved into a new home, before the boxes were even unpacked, Stephanie canvasses the neighborhood, knocking on doors, trying to find new children to play with.  That is moxie!  When Stephanie was just five the family lived in a house that just happened to be located at the mailman’s noon day stop.  Once he delivered their mail, he sat in his truck and ate his lunch.  Well, Stephanie decided she would go out and eat her lunch with him.  So every day, the two of them would have a picnic under a tree.  That is kindness.  Years later the family tracked down the now retired mail carrier and not only did he remember Stephanie, but he said their lunches together were the best part of his job.  Moxie and kindness.  Stephanie combined both by taking on the interesting project of making cakes for friends and family.  And we are not just talking any cakes, we are talking elaborate creations!  She made a fire truck cake pulling a sail boat for her brother, a Hogwart’s Castle for her nephew, and a cake of a mountain complete with a running stream and kayaker for another nephew.  That is moxie and kindness!

Thomas said to Jesus, “We do not know where you are going?  How can we know the way?”

Those who attend church here at St. Paul’s know that I read poetry each day as a part of my devotional practice.  For some time now I have been making my way through the collected works of R.S. Thomas, an Anglican priest who lived and wrote in Wales over the course of the last century.  A few days ago I encountered a poem he wrote titled The Word.  Like all of you, when I first learned that Stephanie was gone I was overcome with different emotions: shock, sadness, and fear were easy to identify.  Still, the name of one feeling eluded me until I read Thomas’ poem:

A pen appeared, and the god said:

‘Write what it is to be

  [human].’  And my hand hovered

long over the bare page,

 

until there, like footprints

of the lost traveler, letters

  took shape on the page’s

blankness, and I spelled out

 

the word ‘lonely’.  And my hand moved

to erase it; but the voices

of all those wailing at life’s

window cried out loud; ‘It is true.’

‘Lonely’ is a pretty good word to describe what a lot of us are feeling in a very deep place.  There is something extremely isolating about losing someone dear and I think that is why we feel so compelled to come together.  It is why so many of you have made such an effort to be here this morning.  You want to convey to Stephanie’s family and to her friends and to yourself that we are not alone.  We who are lonely seek community as a response to grief.  And just as we hold that the communion we will share in a few moments is a foretaste of a heavenly banquet we all one day will enjoy, so too this community we become at this moment is an echo of the Communion of Saints – a community to which Stephanie now belongs. 

It strikes me that this day is a day when reality and mystery dance together.  When I say mystery, I don’t use the word in the sense of a “Who don it?”, but rather in the sense of an awareness of being touched by something from beyond. 

Reality: Stephanie died because a medical condition for which she was seeking help got her before answers could be found.  Mystery: She lived her life with fullness and grace defiant of obstacles in her way.  Her courageous and glorious example is a witness and inspiration to each and every one of us.

Reality: A sudden and unexpected death catches each of us unaware and takes us to a dark and lonely place; a place of shock and fear and sadness.  Mystery: And yet as we come together we experience anew light and hope and joy and gratitude and strength for the road ahead.  These are gifts that come from being in community.

Reality:  This morning we are gathered in a building dedicated to the memory of a person who, 2,000 years ago, was nailed to a cross, executed, and buried.  Mystery: Three days later that person overcame death and rose victorious from the grave.  He promises new life to all who put their trust in him and makes his presence known at gatherings like this.

We who follow this person, who take his name and call ourselves ‘Christians’, know what it is to dance with reality and mystery.  We know what it is to mourn the loss of one we love while at the same time rejoicing in the life she had and affirming that she now dwells in a place eternal in the heavens.  As the writer of the reading we heard from Wisdom put, our faith is this: “The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them.”

Stephanie, I pray you ease and speed in your journey to a new place.  Thank you for all that you have done and been.  You are loved.  You will be missed.  You will not be forgotten.  It is so hard for so many of us to let go of you.  One day we will meet again. 

The Force of Living Water

“The water that I will give will become... a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”

In last Sunday’s gospel Jesus drew on the image of wind to convey a spiritual truth.  Today’s reading draws upon another basic element – water.  Jesus launches into a conversation with a woman who has come to a well to draw a day’s supply.  He is thirsty and asks her for a drink.  This simple request launches a lengthy conversation that covers a wide array of subjects.  At one point Jesus proclaims that he is the source of Living Water and that whoever drinks of him will never thirst again.

Thirst – and we are talking deep thirst – would have been a common experience in that region in that era.  It is still a common experience in many parts of our world today.  Our access to clean drinking water, as well as the abundance of beverages of choice, is a blessing we could easily take for granted.  I was so pleased last year when we rallied together to raise nearly $2,000 for the creation of family wells at remote locations in other countries.  We understood the connection between clean water and quality of life.  It is nice to know that somewhere two or three families or farms or small villages have a way to satisfy their thirst because of our Lenten offering from 2013.

As I meditated on today’s lengthy gospel lesson I kept thinking about a slightly different property of living water.  Not only does it quench thirst, but over time it also has the ability to break down, break through, and smooth out what stands in its way.  Erosion.  Images of erosion vary from the glorious splendor of the Grand Canyon to washed out sections of road on the Outer Banks after a tidal surge.  Have you ever walked barefoot in a steam of rushing water and felt the smooth rocks beneath your feet?  Over time, moving water has worked away all their rough edges. 

Not long ago I watched a cable documentary that tried to determine the origin of Noah’s flood.  It theorized that after the last ice age a huge body of water covered most of central Canada and the upper Great Plains.  All of this water was held back by dam made of ice.  When that blockage gave way, the water rushed forth at an enormous rate in volumes we can scarcely imagine.  It raised ocean levels worldwide by a significant amount; creating the English Channel, the Black Sea, and other bodies of water we take for granted.  Water literally changed the face of the earth.

I think this is a helpful way to look at the encounter Jesus had with the woman at the well.  Think of all that it broke through, moved away, and reshaped.

·   Men did not speak to woman, but Jesus engages this woman in conversation.

·   Jews did not speak to Samaritans and vice versa on account of long-standing ethnic hatred, but Jesus foregoes all of that.

·   Moral objections are raised – the woman has had multiple relationships – and they are swept away.

·   Questions about the practice of religion are brought up – where is the right place to worship? – and dismissed.

·   That the woman came to the well alone at about noontime indicates she was an outcast in her community.  She was not welcome when all the other women normally gathered in the cool of the morning at the well.  And yet, she leaves her conversation with Jesus, returns to the village, and tells everyone about what she has found.  She is reconciled with the people who have pushed her away.

·   The villagers come to the well to meet Jesus and decide to invite him to stay in their town – something that was unthinkable at the time.

No obstacle, no barrier, no impediment can stand in the way of Living Water for long.  Eventually the water will overcome it and make its way toward its eventual destination.  From this encounter we learn that the destination of the Living Water that is Jesus looks like this:

·   It is a place where people find the true and living God not because they are good enough, but because God is gracious beyond all measure.

·   It is a place where broken relationships give way to a reconfigured community; a community where Jesus is always a welcomed guest.

·   It is a place where each person is respected regardless of age, gender, class, ethnicity, or moral integrity.   

To live in this kind of place is never to thirst again.  It is a world we are moving toward inch by inch, choice by choice, carried on our way by the gushing flow of Living Water.

I have enjoyed the brief mediations in this year’s Lenten Devotional from Episcopal Relief & Development.  March 17^th’s entry was written by Moses Deng Bol, a bishop from the South Sudan.  He described how in that part of the world “women are the marginalized of the marginalized”:

Official government statistics say 98 percent of women in the region cannot read or write.  Although a few girls go to school, most will not complete their education.  They will likely be married off for a dowry.  The dowry may be paid in stolen cows, a practice fueling current tribal conflict in South Sudan.

The bishop goes on to note:

Yet we rely on these same women to provide food, manage our homes, and raise our children.  They are such a central part of our society, and, I think, these women are the key to unlocking a better future for South Sudan.

March 19^th’s devotional described how an association of women in southwest China, empowered by a microloan, have come together to create better lives for themselves and for their community.  They are now at a point where they are making a profit and using this money to provide better care for the elderly, for children, and for poor families.

These stories, among many others, evoke for me the image of Living Water as running water that removes barriers and overcomes obstacles on its way to a good and godly destination.  I am looking forward to making a contribution to efforts like these at the end of Lent as we collect change for micro-development projects.  Just as last year’s effort addressed water as thirst, this year’s work focuses in figuratively on ‘water’s’ ability to transform.  It is a tangible way that you and I can be connected to Jesus the source of Living Water.

Today I am most mindful of the final barrier that Living Water will overcome, the barrier of death itself.  Death is the great darkness in the future that each of us must face, and with the sudden passing of Stephanie Freel, that darkness seems especially close today; not only to us, but to our children who have lost a Sunday School teacher and mother of one of their own.  Our faith is that nothing – nothing – nothing – can stand it the way of the gush of Living Water, not even death itself.  We rejoice that Stephanie has been welcomed to that place were she will never thirst again even as we recognize that a different kind of water pours forth from our eyes in the form of tears. 

Today I am grateful for the power of Living Water to overcome all things on its course to a Holy Destination.  And I pray that the One who was thirsty as he sat beside a well so long ago will come to us and comfort us with a Living Water we so desperately need.

Jesus said, “The water that I will give will become... a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”

People of the Wind

“The wind blows where it chooses… and so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

I was ordained a transitional deacon on a Saturday morning in June in the year 1987.  It is called “transitional” to distinguish those who will later be ordained to the priesthood from those who are ordained deacons for life by vocation or calling.  St. Paul’s, Akron, where the service took place, is a large church built in the Georgian style.  A good number of people participated in the service – two full choirs, readers, a preacher, presenters, the clergy of the church, clergy from the diocese, clergy from other area churches, both bishops of the diocese, and little old me.  We got ourselves organized on the walk in front of the church before the service began and the line stretched on and on and on. 

A storm was brewing.  As we waited for the procession to begin we could see it and hear it moving in quickly from the west.  We barely got inside before torrents of fury were unleashed.  It was warm that morning and because the church lacked air-conditioning its large windows were open to let it what earlier had been a gentle breeze.  But with the onset of the storm, fueled by much cooler air, that breeze transformed into powerful gusts of wind that whipped around to and fro – not only outside the church, but inside as well.  The air around us was moving and alive.  Some said it was the Holy Spirit coming to be present at the occasion, but I fretted it was God’s last ditch effort to put a stop to my ordination. 

The storm passed after a few minutes and that rushing of air inside the church subsided soon there after.  The ordination moved forward with the kind of quiet dignity and gentle reverence one comes to expect of an Episcopal Church service.  I actually don’t remember much about the service, but if I close my eyes I can still hear and feel the power of the wind rushing through the church.

I suspect that each of us here this morning has had an experience similar to that; most likely not at a church service, but somewhere, sometime, and perhaps many different times.  We know the feeling of stillness giving way to powerful movement, of calm giving way to energy, of lethargy becoming animated.  Jesus, in trying to describe life in the Spirit to Nicodemus, draws on the image of wind.  He suggests that we people of faith are to be animated, energized, and alive.  We are people of movement who are doing more than going through the motions.  Jesus told Nicodemus that the Spirit’s presence in one’s life brings about fundamental change, as if one was born for a second time.

I found myself reading recently a portion of an 18^th century book titled Religious Affections written by the revivalist Jonathan Edwards.  He was a leading figure in the Great Awakening that took place in the 1730’s.  Edwards was convinced that a person’s natural state is to be inactive.  It is only when we are moved by what he called an ‘affection’ that we spring into action.  So for example, the affection of covetousness moves a person to seek worldly goods, the affection of ambition moves a person to seek glory, and the affection of lust moves a person to seek sensual delights. 

What intrigues me about Edward’s book is his thinking about religious affections – those things that are the causes of religious action.  He named ten:

1)  Holy Fear – trembling at the thought of God’s holiness.

2)  Hope – hoping in God’s person and in God’s promises.

3)  Love – the affection that rules our relationship with God as well as our neighbor.

4)  Hated – our intense response to sin and evil.

5)  Holy Desire – longing for God as “a thirsty deer pants for water” (Psalm 42:1)

6)  Joy – delighting in the Lord.

7)  Religious Sorrow – a brokenness of heart, which God will not despise.

8)  Gratitude – thankfulness expressed as praise to God.

9)  Compassion – demonstrating God’s mercy in our lives.

10)  Zeal – a passionate commitment to live out our faith in dynamic ways.

In his day Edwards contended with many clergy – including Anglicans – because he was convinced that true religion had to be more than a rational or intellectual affair.  He felt faith must emanate from the heart and that its expression must be “enthusiastic”: 

“If we are not earnest in our religion, and if our wills and inclinations are not strongly exercised, than we are nothing.  The importance of religion is so great that no halfhearted exercise will suffice.  In nothing is the state of our heart so crucial as in religion, and in nothing is lukewarmness so odious.”

He is describing life as being like a quaint, quiet worship service when if fact it should be like one where everyone is enveloped in a powerful rush of air.  Edwards describes it as having the external appearance of religion – its form – but either not knowing or denying its power.

And that I think this is what Jesus tried to communicate to Nicodemus.  As a Pharisee, Nicodemus had mastered religion’s appearance and form, but knew little or nothing of its power.  He knew the affections as holy ideas, but not as an animating force in his life.  I give him credit because he recognized there was something different about how Jesus practiced the faith, and rather than condemn or attack him, he sought him out and asked honest questions.  And I sympathize with his confusion at Jesus’ answer.  “We people of the Spirit”, Jesus told him, “are people of the wind”.

I grew up in an Evangelical environment where as a youth I was encouraged to “give my life to Christ.”  I was encouraged to “come to Christ” through a conversion experience.  That event happened to me when I was in the ninth grade.  It was a powerful, life-changing moment that has been the foundational decision of my life.  And it was an experience that I encouraged others to seek for themselves. 

Now, decades later, I question some of the theology of this approach.  Salvation comes from the Lord, not from a conversion experience and the sacrament that points to this is Baptism.  I also question some of the psychology of this approach.  More than a little bit of it tends to be manipulative, especially when aimed at teenagers and young people.  But here is what I don’t question and what I do embrace about my own conversion… the passion and the power I received from it.  I am not a perfect person or a perfect Christian to be sure, but I am all in.  Religion for me is not appearance or form.  It is life itself.  I have been from that moment years ago a person of the wind energized at my best moments by what Edwards called religious affections.

People frequently ask me why some other church is doing so well.  Why are they growing?  Why are so many people going there?  What do they have that we don’t?  If I answer honestly I say I don’t know.  I don’t get to visit other churches in order to discern what they are doing that is working so well for them.  I suspect, however, that there is one single common trait they all share.  It is not contemporary music or great preaching or drop down video screens or casual clothes and coffee cups in the worship service.  The common thread is that each congregation has a significant number of people who are passionate about living out the Christian faith.  Each has many people who are being blow about by the wind. 

In Edward’s day there were many good and faithful church people who wanted nothing to do with what they called “enthusiasm” in religion.  They were comfortable with and confident in the external expression of religion and its form.  Faith being animated served no purpose at all for them.  But there were others who found that religion’s windy power made them new and energized believers.  And then there were some who knew they were missing out on something, but couldn’t name it.  These were people who, like Nicodemus, saw in the enthused something they lacked. 

The image of wind.  Imagine two kites.  One is leaning against a wall in a closed garage.  The other is soaring high above a beach, caught up in the persistent ocean breeze.  What is the difference between the two?  Both are kites, right?  Neither creates the wind, but one is caught up in it while the other is not.  That kite in the wind… it is living into the fullness of its intended being.  The one in the garage… not so much.  Which one are you more like? 

Jesus said, “The wind blows where it chooses… and so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

 

 

"About', "Knowing," and "Using" the Bible

Ladies, on the scant chance that any of you might think I would be some kind of ‘prize’, let me dispel such nonsense by outing myself as a channel surfer.  Yes, I hold the remote control in my hand and flick away.  I am told women find this behavior to be incredibly annoying.  I channel surf for two reasons.  First, I find it challenging to pay attention to television for extended periods of time, especially during commercials.  And second, there is some pretty fascinating content being broadcast on other stations.  Nowhere is this more true than on the Christian networks!

One day I happened to surf into a program called “The Bible Bowl”.  It was a game show of sorts that pitted teenage teams against each other in a quiz show format of bible trivia.  Each team had three members and there were teams from three different churches.  One team, it appeared to me, might have struggled to answer the question who was born in a manger.  Clearly, their youth minister and Christian Education director were in for a rough personnel review at the end of the year.  The second team appeared to be confident in their knowledge that Noah built the ark, Moses parted the Red Sea, and Paul wrote a lot of letters.  But the third team – ahhh – this team had done its homework.  They knew their stuff!  In fact, I wondered if they did anything else in life but drill for bible trivia. 

Within a nanosecond of each question, one of their youth smacked down on the buzzer and blurted out an answer.  And I am not talking about basic level bible here.  Question: “Name the daughters of Zelophahad.”  Buzzzz!  “Mahlah, Tirzah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Noah.”  “Correct.  20 points.  Next question:  Who became king of Jerusalem at the age of seven?”  Buzzzz!  “Joash!”  And so it went.  I trust you can imagine the look on the faces on the other two teams as obscure question after obscure question got devoured by this one church’s walking, talking, teenage biblical concordances.  It was the kind of television experience that encourages me to keep the remote close at hand!

It strikes me that most Episcopalians know about the bible.  We are familiar with some of its basic stories and content.  Most of us know others who know the bible, perhaps not to the obsessive level of that quiz team, but pretty darn close.  We know folks who can quote chapter and verse and in a matter of seconds can open a bible to the exact passage they are looking to find.  So there is knowing about the bible and there is knowing the bible, but there is also third level.  It involves knowing how to use the bible.  We see each level at work in today’s readings.

Think back to the first lesson.  God speaks to Adam and gives a command: 

“You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”

The text plainly indicates that this word was given to Adam and to Adam alone. 

The scene shifts and now the crafty serpent is talking to Eve.  Both are aware of what God said to Adam so the implication is that Adam passed along what he had been told.  The serpent: “Did God really say, ‘You shall not eat from any tree in the garden?’”  It is a calculated distortion to see if Eve knows about God’s word or if she knows God’s word.   Notice her answer.  She is partly right and partly wrong: “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.” 

While not touching the fruit God has told you not to eat makes sense, it was not what God said.  Did Adam add this to what he told Eve or did Eve make it up on her own?  Either way, this difference between knowing God’s word and knowing about God’s word opens the door for the crafty one to challenge the entire notion.  Eating the apple becomes the greatest misuse of God’s word in Scripture. 

And then we have the Gospel reading.  Three times the crafty one tempts Jesus.  Jesus repels the first temptation to turn stone to bread by quoting Scripture.  The devil sees an opportunity for a second temptation - throw yourself from the pinnacle of the temple - and then makes the case for doing so by quoting not one, but two passages of Scripture.  The devil knows his bible!  There is no doubt he could tear it up on that quiz show.  What the devil doesn’t know is how to use the bible.

Now when I say “use the bible”, of course I mean “use it in the right way” (whatever that means).  Most people who know the bible well know how to use what they know.  I knew a guy in college who really knew the bible and he could use what he knew to justify pretty much everything he did.  Do you remember the movie Oh God staring George Burns?  Well, my college friend thought it was blasphemous so he cobbled together a couple of verses from the bible taken from here and there as a pretense for setting off a smoke bomb in a crowded movie theatre.  I hope you have never encountered a person that extreme, but I am confident each of you knows someone who knows the bible and knows how to use what they know.

I am sure we could all tell a story about someone who used the bible in the wrong way, but how would we describe what it looks like to use the bible in the ‘right’ way?  Maybe the place to start is to change the question.  Perhaps the question is not how we use the bible, but rather how does the bible use us? 

Both Paul and the author of the Letter to the Hebrews use the image of the bible as being like a sword.  This image in particular gives rise to the idea of using the bible as if it is something we command to affect an impact on others.  I knew a Korean seminary student who dreamed a putting together a bible study using “just the right verses in just the right way” that it would reunite the two Koreas.  His was a vision in keeping with the image of the bible as a sword.  At least he hoped for something positive.  Others use the sword-like bible to cut their adversaries to the quick.  Their go-to approach is to use the bible as a weapon that wields the message “I am right and you are wrong and here is why”.

But what if we shift the image from sword to scalpel?  And what if we see ourselves not as the surgeon but as the patient?  How would we see the bible differently in this light?  How would we see it if we understood it to be an instrument to open up us (as it were) to affect our greatest healing; if we used it not to see what we could do to others with it, but rather what we allowed it to work in us?

Or what if we shifted to another image… Scripture as being bread?  What if we thought of the reading the bible as a way to nourish and nurture our lives?  What if its primary purpose was to give us strength for life’s journey?

Speaking of life’s journey, that suggests another biblical image… Scripture as a light.  What if we understood the bible as being like a lantern, a means to help us move forward in life when the path seems dark and uncertain?

Or what if we saw Scripture as being like a letter; perhaps a love letter from One who has invested everything in us?  Or maybe like a letter from a parent who guides, corrects, chides, inspires, teaches, and encourages us – all written from the perspective of One whose connection to us can never be shaken.

Or what if we saw Scripture as being like a shot of adrenaline… something that energizes and motives us to move, to take action, when we see that things are not as they should be?

Of course, some words of Scripture cannot be sugar coated.  Some of what it has to say is deeply critical of our individual condition as well as the way our culture expresses its values and concerns.  From this perspective, are we justified to use it as a sword; as a weapon that wrecks havoc on everyone whose ways we find objectionable?  There are times in extreme when Christians must stand up, proclaim the Truth, and be willing to suffer the consequences.  But most often we need to think of Scripture as a being like a beacon in the night that illuminates not so much right and wrong as it points out danger while guiding the way to safe passage.

Last Wednesday, I spoke the words of the faith encouraging each one of us to observe a holy Lent.  One aspect of this calls on us to read holy Scripture and to meditate upon it.  This directive is meant to encourage us to participate in a more intensive, more focused practice during these forty days.  Certainly it is not the only time during the year when we read the bible, but this is a time for us to grow from knowing about the bible toward knowing the bible, and from knowing the bible to allowing the holy Scriptures to use us.