First Thursday in Advent

Isaiah 26:1-6; Psalm 118:19-24; Matthew 7:21-27

So, first I have to say that we experienced a miracle of abundance yesterday.  Really.  And no, I can’t be more specific.  I just want to say that I laughed when I went back and read what I had written earlier.  May you be part of a miracle today as well.

OK, that said, today’s readings center on a different cluster of metaphors.  The image is less abundance and more strength: rather than feasting, we have rocks and walls.  Yesterday was sort of the “open door policy” of abundance: everyone come to the table, there’s enough for us all!  Today we hear about the gates and those who will be left outside.  How do these hold together?  Do they?  

It is true that abundance for all is God’s desire.  It’s true that healing and wholeness and shalom are God’s dream for us.  But it’s also true that we don’t always know how to get there, or choose to go there.  As Isaiah prophesies abundance, he also prophesies destruction for those who oppose Israel (Isaiah 25:10-12): their walls will be destroyed.  We may not want to hear those verses; the lectionary leaves them out, keeping our eyes on the promise.  But we can’t grow spiritually unless we confront our shadow, both our inner shadow and those “outside” who threaten us.  

In today’s Gospel Jesus says that many people are calling on his name, even doing wonders in his name, without actually following his way.  In today’s world, where many who call themselves “Christian” focus more on building walls and prophesying destruction than on sharing abundance, it pays to stop and look at what we think our journey with Jesus is about.  Those who call “Lord, Lord” in the Gospel are surprised to be left out; there’s always the tiny chance that just this once I’m off base too.  So what is needed, and what must be let go?

Those who cast out demons or do great deeds do not mention their need for God.  They seem to be presenting their credentials at the door, trying to qualify for entrance, rather than doing the simple but difficult things Jesus commands - praying, forgiving, trusting, doing good.  They are being fabulous, but Jesus doesn’t ask for that.  Jesus asks us to consider our weakness and brokenness, and from there to look with compassion on others who act out of theirs.

There is a time for expending our energy, for sharing and giving and doing.  But if that energy is to be part of God’s dream it must be rooted in prayer, in honest self-examination, in humility and patience.  We need boundaries to gather strength, to have something to share; and then we need wisdom to know when to let go and let the gift overflow.  “Open the gates of righteousness, that I may enter” (Ps. 118:19).

Where do you need to build or reinforce today?  How will you do that?

First Wednesday in Advent

Isaiah 25:6-9; Psalm 23; Matthew 15:29-39

Abundance.  That’s Isaiah’s dream, and Matthew’s story.  The feeding miracles are the only ones to appear in all four gospels.  All four have the feeding of the five thousand (men), and Mark and Matthew include this one, the four thousand (men) just for emphasis.  In case you missed it, they’re saying, Jesus brings miraculous abundance.

In our modern sensibility, in which miracles are an embarrassment, many of us take refuge in saying that of course these stories are metaphor.  We say we shouldn't read them as literal history, but as a way of saying that Jesus brings abundance beyond what we can imagine.  And that may well be “true.”  But it short-circuits the potential of the Gospel.  Naming the miracles only as metaphor means not really stepping into the space in which God can do “infinitely more than we can ask or imagine” (Eph. 3:20).  It means playing it safe, not really expecting God’s grace to exceed my grasp.  The result is that God goes back in a box.  I don’t know about you, but I need God out of the box right now.

So perhaps, just for these weeks, we can live in the space where miracles happen.  Perhaps we can come to God as little children, or as the hungry crowd, and see what happens.  

How would your life be different if you lived inside this story, if you expected Jesus to come and feed you from nothing?  How would your world be different if you heard him say, “Give this to the crowds” - and you did?  Blessed would be the eyes that see that, and the ears that hear of it!

What miracle of abundance will you be part of today?

And enjoy Bobby McFerrin’s version of Psalm 23:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsQCLrXXuvQ

First Tuesday in Advent

Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-8; Luke 10:21-24

When the seventy return with reports of miracles, Jesus exclaims: “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see!  For I tell you that many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.”  It is a blessing to see and hear signs of God at work.

And yet Isaiah promises a Messiah who will “not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear” (Isaiah 11:3).  Rather, judgment will flow from righteousness and equity.  It seems that what the Messiah needs is within rather than without.

Jesus rejoices that his disciples have seen and performed miracles, that they have seen what God can do.  But the deeper joy is to know ourselves in union with God, to know that “your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20).  The deeper promise is to find that part of us that knows God, knows the truth, knows love; and, finding it, to live from there.

This does not mean abandoning the world or retreating to private refuge.  Knowing God means seeing all that we are capable to doing to one another without losing sight of God.  We use our eyes and ears, but the reign of God works in the spaces in between and beneath what we see and hear in that way.  

I expect that when the seventy performed those miracles, many witnesses did not see miracles.  They explained them away as coincidence, or they denied or ignored them, because seeing them would complicate their lives.  Seeing as the seventy saw means letting the world be messy, bigger than my understanding.  It means hoping in the face of persistent reasons to despair, standing in the light of Christ without denying the reality of sin and death.  We do not see only through our eyes, we do not hear only through our ears; we see and hear through the stand we take and the choices we make about what is real and what matters.

What do you see and hear today?  

Monday, 1 Advent

Isaiah 4:2-6; Psalm 122; Matthew 8:5-13

“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem . . . For the sake of my relatives and friends I will say, “Peace be within you.”  For the sake of the house of the LORD our God, I will seek your good.”

Not only for the sake of my relatives and friends, not for the sake of the house(s) of God, but for the sake of the world: for the sake of creation, the sake of the most vulnerable, the sake of the enslaved and oppressed and exploited; for the sake of those who hate me, and those who simply don’t care; for the sake of my soul that dies a little every time I seek war or conquest; for the sake of God who so longs for our return: for all these I will seek your good.  

I will seek your good, O Jerusalem; O Damascus; O Tehran; O Havana; O Moscow; O Washington.  I will seek your good, Caracas; and yours, Darfur, and Mogadishu.  I will seek your good, though you may not see it as good.  I will seek the real peace that comes with justice, with compassion, with conversion of hearts and minds.  I will pray for this peace, and I will seek it.

Jesus’ peace crosses the boundaries between Jew and Gentile, sinner and righteous, male and female.  Jesus brings peace to all who will receive it.  This is not simply “believing,” but willingness to be opened and to stand with Jesus, to dare to trust in the face of “good reasons” not to.  Prayer is a daring statement of trust.  Seeking peace is a statement of strong love, of bold and determined love.  

Pray for peace today.  

1st Sunday in Advent

Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44

I’m writing in the middle of an earthquake.  I suspect that most of our readers did not vote for Donald Trump, but even for those who did there is a seismic shift afoot in the U.S.  We know from psychologists that major changes are stressful whether they are “positive” or “negative,” whether it’s moving, a new job, losing a job, death, marriage, divorce - any big change is stressful and takes a long time to adjust.  So I think it’s safe to say I’m not alone in feeling unsettled and unsure about the future.

If you’re feeling that way, you’re in the right place - or the right time.  Advent begins with promises that can feel threatening.  We hear Isaiah’s prophecy of peace, but also Jesus’ warning that the coming of the Human One will not be sweet and easy.  We might see these as bookends.  Peace will come, but not without struggle and pain.  War will end, but we don’t know when.  

In between, we have this powerful encouragement from Paul, reminding us of how we are to live in the “in-between” times.  We are to stand firm, to renounce hatred and deceit, and to stand firm in the light.  Twice we are advised to “put on” what we need: we “put on the armor of light,” and we “put on the Lord Jesus Christ.”  In other places Paul fleshes out that advice: love, peace, joy, gentleness, patience, temperance, gratitude.  

“Winners,” “losers,” innocent bystanders, not-so-innocent spectators: now is the moment for you to wake from sleep.  Each day is a chance to look for the Coming One who brings the promise of God’s Dream.  We don’t need to know how to read the signs of the times to know what we need to do.  All times are the time for peace.

“Come, let us walk in the light of the LORD!”

What do you need to put on today?  Pray for the grace to do that.

We Are Everywhere.

We are Muslim.

We are refugees.

We are undocumented.

We are Black, and brown, and red, and yellow, and white.

We are queer.

We are hungry.

We are imprisoned because of our race.

We are experiencing homelessness.

We are victims of gun violence.

We are unemployed, or overworked.

We are victims of domestic violence.

We are victims of rape and sexual assault.

We are mothers left to raise children without support.

We are trying for a better life.

We are searching for God in the rubble.

We are Jesus.

Are you one of us?  Will you stand with us?

"First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— 

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— 

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me."

Pastor Martin Niemoller