Wednesday in the Second Week

Here are some other questions I ask when I’m reading:

What message did the author want to me to get through this story - a quality of God, or Jesus, or faithful discipleship, or whatever?

What message do the organizers of the lectionary want me to get?

What are they leaving out, and how does it change the message of the Scriptures?

And what do I think about that?  Do I agree that we are better off without this story, or is this a loss? 

When the lectionary skips some section, go back and read what they left out.   The readings from Acts are a great example.

Yesterday we read the inspiring depiction of the community of believers.  Everyone shared, no one went hungry, Barnabas was generous.  Life was good: so good some of us have been trying to live that way ever since!

Then today we are supposed to read about signs and wonders, about miracles of healing and of bravery.  Again, something to be inspired by and aspire to.

But in between, we have something a little different.  Ananias and Sapphira stand as warnings of what can happen when people pretend to be committed, when they withhold, when they lie.  It’s not a pretty story, but it’s important.  Lies and secrets do indeed corrode a community, more than many other infractions.   So why is this story elided?

I’m not sure.  Perhaps the lectionary committee did not want us to consider such a dangerous God.  The problem isn’t with God’s power; we’re happy to read about signs and wonders.  But I suspect that we in the “mainline” churches have become so allergic to the vengeful God of some quarters that we can’t stomach any hint of a punishing God.  

Eastertide is the season of the big carrot: resurrection life.  But we need sticks too, sometimes, to stay on the path.  We need promises, and we need warnings.  We don’t have to believe in a literal killing God to get the truth of the cost of being dead to God and to life-giving community.  If you are one of those who think resurrection is a metaphor, then let this story dwell in you as well.  Is there a secret part of yourself you’re withholding from God or important others in your life?  Now is the time to let it go.  It won’t get better later.  

We now return to our regularly scheduled readings.  Thanks be to God for all of it!

Monday in the Second Week

I’m going to be gone a lot over the next five weeks, so writing will be sporadic.  I can, however, give you the readings for daily Eucharist as well as the daily office.  For your convenience, here’s a link you can copy and access each day:

http://www.satucket.com/lectionary/

And here are some questions you might ask of the readings, things I ask myself:

First is a request: God, show me what I need to see in this today.

Then ask:

Is there a word or phrase that stands out for me today?

What inspires me in this passage?

Is there something that strikes me as funny or “off”?

Is there something I don’t understand?

Is there something I disagree with or find offensive?

If something lands in any of these ways, I keep reading it.  I ask God to show me what matters in this.  What might I tell someone else about this?

Finally, thank God for this time, and ask:  Lead me in your truth and teach me, and enable me to serve others through your Spirit.  Amen.

Second Sunday of Easter

Acts 2:14a,22-32; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

The story of Thomas is so powerful and rich that it’s easy to neglect the other readings.  I love Thomas: I love his love for Jesus, his integrity, his refusal to settle for other people’s faith.  And I love that Jesus loves him enough to come back and show him what he needs.  But, as John wants us to get, we don't all get that privilege.  What of us who (try to) believe without seeing?  Jesus doesn’t say that we are “more” blessed than Thomas and his empiricist friends; he merely says that we are blessed.  The blessing comes from the faith we receive and live in.  It is not a preference on God’s part, not a special favor or ticket to heaven.  It is simply the way things work in God’s realm; the “outcome of your faith” is “the salvation of your souls” (1 Peter 1:9).  

Why?  Why is salvation the outcome of faith?  And what is salvation, anyway?  (Warning: unauthorized theology follows.  May be hazardous.  Just guessing, really.)

The letter attributed to Peter gives us an answer, though it’s more suggestive than systematic.  (And that’s a virtue!)  “Peter” refers to the “new birth into a living hope” that is accomplished through Jesus’ resurrection.  Here are the nouns that stand out in this poetic cascade: birth, hope, inheritance, salvation; faith, trials, praise, glory, honor, joy. 

Salvation isn’t for an afterlife.  It’s in how we live here and now.  It’s in the details: the praise, the joy, the trials, the hope.  It’s in the faith that enables us to wait.  It’s in the resilience and the endurance that faith makes possible.  It’s in the love that we experience and the love we share as a result of knowing ourselves to be loved.  

When Thomas believes, his response is “praise, glory and honor”: “My Lord and my God!”  When I believe, when I really believe and God’s love and power are present to me, my response is the same: “Thank you!  Blessed are you, Amazing and Holy One!”  And my soul is healed, is made whole.

May you believe, and be blessed.  However you get there, however many times you have to claw your way back to faith, you will receive salvation as for the first time.  

April 20, Thursday in Easter Week

Alleluia!  Christ is risen!

I’m sorry to have been so silent during these wonderful days.  We’ve had a lot going on here, which I will write about in our newsletter.  More is coming up, so I’ll be posting infrequently for a bit.  But that doesn’t mean that Easter joy isn’t here and flowing.  This is the season for Mary Magdalene to come into her stature as an apostle, after all.

The theme in all the readings this week is renewal and new life and miracle.  Where are you seeing this around you?  This is a good exercise for any day, any time of day.  Where are you open to being surprised by joy, by gratitude, by wonder?  Is it an unfolding flower?  The first baby animals?  The beauty of liturgy or Scripture?  A burning heart within you?  Where do you notice that what seemed dead is coming to life?

Here, I’m delighting in daffodils and reveling in green leaves.  The song birds are back.  The alleluias are back in the daily office, along with joyful hymns and antiphons.  And, yes, we are going through some changes that feel like loss, but even there I’m suspicious that new life is emerging so I’m hopeful.

Look for resurrection, and tell us what you find.  Easter blessings to you!

Easter Greetings!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0xZVquUpYg

Alleluia!  Blessed Easter to you all!

Good Friday

Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 10:16-25; John 18:1-19:42

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-4 (5-10) 11-14; Psalm 116: 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-17, 31b-35

“For I have set you an example, that you should also do as I have done to you. . . . I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”  (Jn 13)

And not only one another.  Love your enemies.  Do good to those who hate you.  Let everyone know you are a disciple of the Servant One, by your love.

Wednesday in Holy Week

Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 70; Hebrews 12:1-3; John 13:21-32

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Heb. 12:1-2)

For the sake of the joy that was set before him.

Jesus tells Judas to go on, do what he must, take his part in the drama.  For the sake of the joy.

We do not undergo because we are undeserving of joy or love.  We do not pick up our cross because someone else tells us it’s our place.  We undergo for the sake of the joy that is set before us.  We choose not to retaliate when we could; we choose to bear one another’s burdens; we sometimes choose to suffer betrayal, for the sake of the joy that is set before us.  

What is this joy?  It’s the joy of union with God, of knowing ourselves to be beloved.  It’s the joy of being channels of love and peace in turn.  It’s the joy of standing for truth and love, not being ruled by our very human fear and shame.  

Jesus pioneered this way for us.  He did not just do it “for us,” instead of us; he showed us the way.

Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Tuesday in Holy Week

Isaiah 49:1-7; Psalm 71:1-14; 1 Corinthians 1:18-31; John 12:20-36

Read 1 Corinthians 1:18-31.  

“The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but . . . it is the power of God.”

“God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”

“God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.”

“God is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption”

Where do you stumble on the stumbling block of Christ and the message of Jesus?  This is the week, the day, the hour to embrace the foolish wisdom.

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24).

Monday in Holy Week

Isaiah 42:1-9; Psalm 36:5-11; Hebrews 9:11-15; John 12:1-11

As we move into this week, fewer words are needed.  Spend some time with the texts, with the Gospel.  I’ll add a thought if I think it will improve on the simple message - unlikely.  Perhaps a word or a phrase here and there.

Be blessed this week.

Palm Sunday

Liturgy of the Palms: Psalm 118:1-2,19-29; Matthew 21:1-11

Liturgy of the Word: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew (26:14-27:10)11-54

Sermon preached at Christ Church, Red Hook NY

Hosanna!  

Crucify!

What are we to do with the messages of this day?  Which voice will we align with?

We’ve heard the hosannas.  Now, originally “hosanna” meant “save us!”  And we can hear that in the crowd.  It is the cry of the crowd looking for its Messiah.   But over time, “Hosanna” came to mean “hooray!  Our salvation has come!”  What began as a cry for help has become a cry of hope.

Jesus seems to play into that hope.  He rides in on a donkey, the traditional sign of a king, but it’s a colt, too young for the part.  The crowd is expecting a warrior to liberate them from the Romans.   And Jesus seems to give them what they want.  He is staging a dramatic counter-demonstration against the Roman occupiers who entered the city in grand procession.

Over the coming week, the people of Jerusalem will realize that Jesus is not the one they were looking for.  He staged a demonstration, he mocked the Roman rulers and their processions, but he doesn’t seem to want to kill or conquer.   Like the servant described by Isaiah, he comes only with the power to teach, the power to listen, the power to sustain, and the power to endure.  He is not a warrior.  He is a servant.

The crowd will ask for Barabbas instead.  Barabbas is not simply a thief or murderer.  He is the leader of the violent rebellion.  He looks like the kind of Messiah everyone is expecting.  The people pin their hopes on him and his violence.

The contrast here challenges us:

Do you really believe in the Prince of Peace?

Or do you believe in the warrior Messiah?

We love the Prince of Peace when he’s wrapped in swaddling clothes in the manger.  But do you love him when he appears and tells you to conquer violence with non-violence?  

Do you love him when he tells you to serve others without expecting a reward?  

Do you love him when he tells you to leave everything behind and become willing to die?

Over the coming week we will see that Jesus is not the one riding to victory over our enemies.  Jesus is the one calling us to love them.  Jesus is with the poor, the outcast.  He is the servant, calling us to servanthood.

What will you say?

You might say, “Save us!”  Then he’ll turn to you and invite you to follow in his way.

You might say, “I don’t know him!”  Then he’ll turn and look at you with understanding and sadness.

You might say, “Crucify him!”  Then he will pick up his cross and go to his death.

You might mock him and say, “Save yourself!  Come down from that cross!”

You might say with the centurion, “Truly this man was God’s Son!”

In our lives we’re likely to say all these things.   I know I’ve said them all.

I’ve said, “Please help me.  I’m lost and afraid.”  And Jesus has been there when I’ve said that.

But I’ve also said, “I don’t know him.”  I’ve hidden my faith when it would make me unpopular.  I haven’t spoken out about issues that might anger others, although the Gospel command seems clear.  And I’ve turned away from people in need.  I didn’t see the Christ in those people, or I pretended not to.

Have I said “Crucify him!” ?  I don’t want to admit to that.  But I have spoken in condemnation, out of my fear, and I have abandoned others to a horrible fate.  I have let others bear the burden of my fear.

I have said, “This man is God’s son.”  I say it each time we say the Creed.  I’m not always sure I know what it means, I have to confess.  But it’s a way to express my wonder and awe at this man’s courage and love.  

It’s not enough, however, to say it about Jesus.  Just as Jesus says that we feed him or clothe him whenever we feed or clothe another person, so too we recognize the divine image in Jesus by honoring it in one another.  I can’t really say that I’ve said this phrase until I look at you and say, “Truly, this person is God’s child.”

We say all these things, usually without thinking.  

At the center of it all, Jesus waits in silence.  He has taught us all he can.  Now he has to listen, and to endure.  Now, it is up to us.

What will you say?

You have the power to choose which voice to listen to, and which voice to speak in.  Whichever voice you choose, it will shape your life.

May you have courage and love this week to walk to the end, and to be able to say next Sunday, “I have seen the Lord!”

Saturday in the Fifth Week

Ezekiel 37:21-28; Psalm 85:1-7; John 11:45-53

This Gospel is so powerful, and so subtle.  Forgive me if I ruminate at length.

Caiaphas explains that it’s better for one to die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed (Jn. 11:50).  That can sound cynical, and probably was; it’s certainly easier to say about someone else than about oneself.  But John tells us that in fact Caiaphas was “prophesying,” that is, he was speaking an inspired word.  He was not “predicting,” but speaking God’s truth.  Nonetheless, he failed to grasp the full import of what he said.

Jesus came to save.  He saw that Israel, the people of the covenant, who were bound to God through the Torah, had fallen away from that relationship.  They were at a crucial point in their history: occupied by Rome, with a history of resistance, they were tempted to go along with Rome and settle for “peaceful” domination. It seemed that their only choices were to go along with the domination system or to violently resist it.  Either path seemed to mean the end of Israel as a faithful nation.

Jesus came to save, but that salvation meant letting go of what they - and we - think of as survival.  It meant dying to old identities and ways of being in order to be free and faithful.  Jesus talked about this path, but most couldn’t hear what he said.  Finally he showed us.  He failed his way to the cross.  He let go.

Caiaphas thinks that killing Jesus will save the nation by appeasing the Romans.  He’s wrong about that.  Killing Jesus doesn’t save anyone.  But Jesus choosing to die; that is saving grace.  Jesus showing us the path to new life, new possibility, new identity - that’s salvation.

It’s not a salvation we usually choose.

We can settle for survival.  It seems like common sense.  But there are no breakthroughs without breakdowns, and every breakdown is a little death.  Every time I let go, every time I break down, it leads to new and deeper life.  And yet I resist the next time.  I hang on until the pain is so great, the unworkability or un-sustainability of my situation is so clear, that I can’t go on.  I let something die in order for something greater to live.

Is there a part of you that you are selling out in order to keep things in place?

This is the week to notice it and let it go.

Friday in the Fifth Week

Jeremiah 20:7-13; Psalm 18:1-7; John 10:31-42

“Even though you do not believe me, believe the works” (Jn. 10:38).  

Talk is cheap, people say.  But really, talk is all we have.  Works do not speak for themselves; we give them meaning, and we value them according to that meaning.  

Some works, however, are clearer than others.  Bombing civilians, robbing the poor, refusing health care or food or education; those send a clear message.  Serving others, feeding and visiting and freeing, those send another message.  

What works do you believe?  And who do you believe Jesus to be?  What is it, who is it, that you believe?

As Holy Week draws near, the lines of conflict and division become clearer.  People show themselves for who they are, in all their dimensions.  Their works show who they are, as ours reveal us.

Our works, like those of Jesus, show who we are.  They may be open to interpretation, but that interpretation is not infinite, and we are at least partly responsible for the interpretation others give.

Who will you show yourself to be today?

Thursday in the Fifth Week

Genesis 17:1-8; Psalm 105:4-11; John 8:51-59

I am having a lot of trouble with the Gospel readings this week.  Each day we have a first reading about what God is doing for the Israelites.  Then the Gospel readings portray Jesus vilifying his Judean audience, telling them they have lost the inheritance and have become children of the devil.  This poison has infected the Church from early days, but it is not the only way to read the “new covenant” of Jesus.  We can’t let it be.

In the letter to the Romans, Paul spends a lot of time trying to explain how he sees the relation between the Jews and the new Christian movement.  He talks about “grafting” the Gentiles into the Jewish branch, about remaking Israel.  That can be challenging enough to read, especially after centuries of anti-Semitism have shaped our reading.  But it’s a far cry from calling “the Jews” liars or children of the devil.  It doesn’t sound like Jesus to me.

John wrote his Gospel in a time when his branch of the new church was being expelled from synagogues.  He wasn’t content to claim to be grafted onto the branch; he seems to have wanted to burn the old branch and take its place.  For centuries, many Christians have followed him.  The poison has not only killed Jews; it has destroyed the souls of many who would follow Jesus.

How then do we understand the relationship between the earlier covenants and that of Jesus?  How can Christians celebrate what we find in following Jesus without accusing or patronizing Jews?  

One place to start is to study the evolution of Judaism.  Just as Christianity evolved, Judaism today is not the religion of the high priests and the Temple.  Reading the Christian Scriptures is not a sufficient guide for understanding, nor is historical material alone.  Reading alone is insufficient.  Go to a Jewish friend and ask to go to synagogue with them.  If you don’t have an observant Jewish friend, call the synagogue and go with a friend.  Ask the rabbi what you might read to understand contemporary Judaism.

And pray. Pray for mutual understanding, mutual deepening of our relationships to the One who remains faithful no matter what we do to one another.  Pray for reconciliation.  Pray for forgiveness and cleansing.  The failures of the high priests and Pharisees have been more than matched by the sins of Christian leaders and followers over the centuries.  Pray for us all.

Wednesday in the Fifth Week

Daniel 3:14-20, 24-28; Prayer of Azariah, 29-34; John 8:31-42

You can read the story in Daniel, or you can go to YouTube for a song that tells the story:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z013in4TJvU

The three officials refuse to bow down to an idol.  They are willing to face the consequences.  You might think of them as models of civil disobedience.  But they aren’t trying to prove a point.  They’re just being faithful.

We are all faced with idols.  They are rarely as obvious as the idol in this story.  The powers have gotten sneakier.  Now they don’t say, “This is an idol; bow down!”  Now they say, “That’s just how it is.”  If you want to keep your job, you’ll work when they tell you.  If your kids want to get into a good school, they’d better be on a sports team even if it means missing church.  If you want . . . it seems like that’s the key.  Me and my wants.  Me and my fears.

I’ve had idols in my life, though I didn’t know it.  An idol is something that takes the place of God in my life, that distorts my supreme concern, and so distorts me.  I’ve made an idol of alcohol, of food, of success.  I can make an idol of God, so that I don’t see that I’m really worshipping an image I made rather than the living God.  

Once we begin to see that what we’re worshipping is an idol, we’re halfway home.  The idol wants me to believe that it is non-negotiable and inevitable.  Once I see that it’s not, I’m faced with my fears and wants, and I’m faced with choice.

Facing that can feel like entering the furnace.  Giving up my idols has always been terrifying.  But when I do, I find that angel walking in the furnace with me.  Somehow I survive, even thrive, and my experience gives others some hope that they too might survive.   I can’t get there, though, without staring that idol in the face and refusing to bow down.

What are your idols?  What do you bow down to?  Pray to God to let you see Her face beside you in the fire.

Tuesday in the Fifth Week

Numbers 21:4-9; Psalm 102:15-22; John 8:21-30

Poor God.  This God creates us and designs us for relationship, but we keep making it hard.  It’s not the complaining that makes it hard; it’s the stories we tell about who God is that keep us from relating deeply and honestly.

When I see people in spiritual direction, I often learn that they are angry with God.  They’re frustrated or hurt or disappointed about something that they think God should have prevented, or made happen otherwise.  But when i ask them, “Have you told God you’re angry?” they’re horrified.  “No, I couldn’t do that!”  As we talk, it turns out that they have learned the lesson of the first reading: if you complain, God will harm you.  Like a dangerous parent, God’s ego must be protected at all costs.  Only the “saints” can intervene and talk God into mercy or compassion.

We make God in our image; then our God makes us in that image.  We project onto God our fears as well as our dreams.  If our parents raised us not to ask questions or complain, it’s easy to think that God will reject us as well.  But God is not looking to reject us (in spite of what John has Jesus say today).  God is looking for relationship.  Part of that is honest emotion.

Now, there is a kind of complaint that ends relationship.  When I come to you as though I’m entitled, when I treat you as my servant, I’m distorting our relationship as much as if I treat you as my master.  If I go to God and demand that God change the world to suit me, then I’m not asking for relationship.  The two sides are one coin.  

Relationship is about honest struggle.  It includes a willingness to listen, to heed the other, but it also requires honest expression of my needs and fears.  Many of my most powerful encounters with God have involved me yelling or sobbing.  God does not necessarily change the situation, but God does surround and comfort me.  God gives me the strength to look at the source of my hurt, and so to be healed.

May you be healed by the deep love of God today, as you dare the relationship you crave.

Monday in the Fifth Week

Susanna 1-9,15-29, 34-62; Psalm 23; John 8:1-11

Elizabeth writes,

Thrown any stones lately?

Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone... 

Today's gospel opens this up. Thrown any? Have I?
A woman is caught in the very act of adultery and brought to Jesus as a test case. Her accusers think it is cut and dried. Guilty? Yes. Witnesses present? Yes. Stone her, Jesus?
Jesus is between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. The ones trying to bring him down are finally going to have their day.

Not quite. Jesus turns it around. 
He does not acquit or condemn the woman. 
They drop their stones and slink away. 

I can't help noticing that the man caught in adultery is nowhere to be found. Nor can I read this passage without letting my outrage at the treatment of women in this world of double standards emerge.

And then it falls away as surely as the stones that dropped.
I don't let go of my desire to get on my soapbox about injustice against women because there is none. I drop my rock because I am not without sin either.

This is tricky. We do need to stand for justice, but my stone does not have "justice" written on it.
My desire to accuse is not pure. I want THEM to pay. Their stones--and mine--have "revenge!" carved in.

But if THEY must pay for injustice, then I must, too. I must pay for my serious transgressions. I must pay for harboring prejudice in my heart and letting it come out in my behavior. I must pay for the lies I have lived or told. I must pay for the ways I have hurt others through my actions. The list goes on and on.

Jesus does not teach us to punish each other--to make each other pay--when we fail, when we sin, when we are hurt. He calls us to respond only after we look in the mirror. Then, if we are honest, condemnation of one another is out of the question.

I do love to collect stones--I have them from most places I have been blessed to visit. Lovely ones, smooth ones, tiny to large I have a ton of stones.

God help me to keep from throwing them.

Fifth Sunday in Lent

Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:6-11; John 11:1-45

We had so much fun with a video the other day, we tried it again!  Here’s the link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQlqX70VtfQ

Happy Lent V!