Second Tuesday in Advent

Isaiah 40:1-11; Psalm  96; Matthew 18:12-14

Here’s what I’m wondering today: what about the ninety-nine?  I’m glad that the shepherd goes after the one lost sheep; I’m glad that Jesus goes looking for the “little ones.”  But what happens while the shepherd is out looking for that one?

Here’s where the metaphor breaks down.  What makes the ninety-nine safe to leave is that they are not lost - as far the shepherd is concerned.  She knows where to find them.  But the sheep don’t know they aren’t lost.  The sheep might look up and say, “The shepherd has left us!”  Some of them, who know where the shepherd went, might well feel abandoned or taken for granted.  I can hear the elder brother complaining: What about me?  

The problem arises when we don’t see the difference between how God works and how humans do.  God’s power is not limited in the same way as a human shepherd.  The shepherd cannot be in more than one place at once.  God can come to each of us as if we were the only one, the one lost sheep.  God can do that.  But are we in a position to receive that knowledge?  It’s so easy to think that God’s love is a zero-sum game; if those people are special, then I’m not.  I think this is part of the political dynamic in the U.S. these days: a lot of working- and middle-class white folks hear about the needs of people of color and they think it means their concerns aren’t important.  In a zero-sum world, that makes sense.  Being part of the ninety-nine can feel like being ignored.

In the same way, being one of the loved doesn’t make us more special than anyone else.  Today we begin the part of Isaiah known as “second Isaiah,” which is a call to those living in Babylon to get on the road and return to Israel.  Throughout these passages Isaiah promises the exiles that they will receive back what they lost, what “is theirs.”  Only problem: there are people who never left, the “people of the land,” who also love God.  Those people will experience the return of the exiles as an invasion and conquest.  The Samaritans are the descendants of those people who never left, looked down on by the returning “Judeans.”  So who’s lost, who’s found here?  Whose side is God on?

Jesus teaches us about God’s crazy sense of justice: the laborers who get paid the same no matter how long they work and the prodigal son are just two parables people love to hate.  In a zero-sum world, a world where we earn what we have and fight for our place, they sound unjust.  But God’s world is not like that.  We are all loved, all welcome, on the terms we need (not necessarily those we want).  The only catch is that we have to be with all those others to get the promise.  The elder brother can’t enjoy the party until he accepts his father’s love for the younger; the early workers can’t enjoy their pay as long as they are comparing to those who came later.  God doesn’t shut the door, but often we do.

Imagine the shepherd’s return with the lost sheep.  How do the ninety-nine respond?  If they do not receive the one back with joy, they will find themselves lost - and not even know it!

Of course, we aren’t sheep - right?  Right?

Second Monday in Advent

Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 85:8-13; Luke 5:17-26

I love this Gospel story.  It shows us so much about healing, about God’s love and our response.  While I’m reminded again of recovery from addiction, it’s important to note that the 12 Steps grew out of Christian spiritual traditions of repentance, confession, and restoration.  Whether the healing we need is from addiction, illness, oppression, or trauma, this story reminds us of some key elements.

First, we do not heal alone.  We are born and raised in relationship with others.  We are shaped by our encounters with others, for good and for bad.  And healing always involves a shift in relationships.  It may be a visit to the doctor; it may be the intervention of family members, or the loss of a job; it may involve therapists or a new network of fellow sufferers; healing begins when we reach out.  And healing will inevitably shift old relationships and challenge those around us to change their view of things.  The patient is now well; so what is a caregiver to do?

When the “problem child” becomes a mature adult, how do those around her respond?

Second, we start where we are.  It’s important that Jesus does not begin this encounter by healing the man’s paralysis.  That comes later.  First he needs to know that he is forgiven, accepted as he is.  Now, most people who enter recovery programs don’t think they need forgiveness; they come to stop drinking or smoking or eating, or because other people’s addictions are driving them crazy.  They want the pain to stop.  But real healing, real thriving, is far down the road.  When they walk in, they are given a place at the table.  As they begin to admit what they’ve done, they are received with compassion and respect.  And we all have the authority to do that.  I can forgive you for what you’ve done to another; in my world, you are free to start over.  If you are not in a recovery program, you can receive the same gift through the sacrament of reconciliation, or simply talking to a loving companion.

The Pharisees then, and my inner judges now, aren’t happy about this forgiveness stuff.  I suspect that when we ask, “Who can forgive sins but God alone?” we really mean, “I don’t want to see you forgiven.”  But Jesus does.  He knows that any healing must start with accepting where we are, and starting over.  So he wipes clean the paralytic’s slate.

Then the man’s body is restored, as a sign of a deeper healing.  He takes up his bed, and his place in his community.  And those around him marvel.  They give glory to God.  And that is what healing engenders.  When addicts stay clean, when cancer goes into remission, when trauma victims pick up the mats of their lives and move on, when the oppressed claim their voices, it’s a miracle.  It’s a sign of God’s work.  And every day that we live as whole, holy people we give glory to the One who makes that happen.

What is the healing you need?  Who do you need to reach out to in order to begin that?  Who needs your hand, your forgiveness today?  Don’t delay: Jesus is coming!

Second Sunday in Advent

Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Romans 15:4-13; Matthew 3:1-12

I’ve heard that Advent is the season of hope.  And we hear a lot of hope in the Scriptures for this time: hope of healing, of peace, of justice, of abundance.  But hope is not simply wishing, or even anticipating that things will turn around or improve.  Hope is its own rare bird.

Paul writes of “steadfastness and encouragement” as the sources of hope, and prays that the “God of hope” will fill us “with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Rom. 15:13).  Hope is something Paul seems to know about, to long for, and to glimpse.  Elsewhere in the letter to the Romans he says that we need not fear suffering, because “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us” (5:3-5).  He doesn’t write this as a stranger to suffering.  Somehow, for him suffering has become the gateway to something more powerful than simple ease or freedom.  These are subject to the whims of nature, or other people or groups; but Paul finds hope beyond all those, through the Holy Spirit working in our hearts.  Steadfastness.  Encouragement.  Character.  

In these uncertain days, we are reminded more than ever that our hope rests on the interplay between God and our hearts.  God will enter into our hearts, but we have a role to play.  Our job is to endure, to stand fast, to encourage one another.  And all around me, I’m seeing people doing that.  People are finding new resources within themselves, and among themselves.  They are reaching out and calling out.  And as they do, they rekindle hope.  

Jesus has already come.  The one whom we await is already here.  That is the irony of Advent, the mystery of Advent.  We hope not so much for God to come among us, as for the ability to recognize Her as already here.  The path to that recognition is often not the way we want to go; it can seem threatening.  We may experience the winnowing fork and the fire.  But the one who endures to the end will be saved.  Hope, that strange bird, will fly again.  

Come, Lord Jesus!

First Saturday in Advent

Isaiah 30:19-21,23-26; Psalm 147:1-12; Matthew 9:35-10:1,5-8

In 12-Step programs there is a saying: the program isn’t for those who need it, it’s for those who want it.  I thought of that saying reading today’s Gospel.

Jesus has compassion on the crowds who are ”harassed and helpless.”  He sends out twelve disciples with instructions to go to the “lost sheep” of Israel.  (He hasn’t yet seen the full potential of his mission; that comes in chapter 15.)  They are to proclaim the good news and work wonders as Jesus has.  It sounds promising.

At the end of his instructions, though, after what we read, Jesus acknowledges that not all will welcome the news.  When that happens, the apostles are to shake off the dust from their feet and get out of town (10:14).  He knows that just as he has met spiritual blindness and deafness, so his disciples will as well.  His compassion leads him to extend the mission, but he knows that he can’t force the results.

A friend of ours says, “God is not codependent.”  God will not force us to change.  Many of us will choose to live our lives harassed and helpless, rather than do the hard work of coming to awareness.  Others will do their best, but will have to plow through old programming and habits to really get the good news.  And some, by the grace of God, will break through to joy.  I don’t have any idea how some of us break through and some can’t hear; I just pray to break through, and to carry the message.

The Gospel isn’t for those who need it.  We all need the news of God’s love and power, however they come.  The Gospel is for those who want it.  That sounds harsh, doesn’t it?  It’s not.  It’s just how it is.  

Pray today to receive the good news, however it comes.  Pray to be healed, which means to acknowledge your need for healing.  Pray that your life may be a witness to others of what God can do.  Pray for those who suffer, that they might find the way.  And remember, you are not alone.  You are part of a band of disciples, sent on behalf of one whose love is inextinguishable.

And as you go, “When you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it” (Isaiah 30:21).  God be with you.

First Friday in Advent

Isaiah 29:17-24; Psalm 27:1-6,17-18; Matthew 9:27-31

(Don’t be surprised when your Bible doesn’t show Psalm 27 going this far.  The numbers in the Episcopal Prayer Book Psalter are very different.  If you are using an NRSV Bible, the verses are 1-4, 13-14.  And the translation is very different; all you Bible nerds out there, take a look!)

In today’s Gospel people receive their sight, and the psalm celebrates our ability to “see the goodness of God in the land of the living” - not in the afterlife, but right now.  The NRSV offers a statement: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.”  The Episcopal translation offers a question: “What if I had not believed that I should see the goodness of the LORD” - but ends that question with an exclamation rather than a question mark.  Is it a question, or a way of expressing amazement?  Either one of those is different from the simple declaration, “I believe.”  There’s something for us to ponder in each case.

As a declaration, “I believe” carries power.  I stand for this possibility, no matter what today brings or fails to bring.  I live and act from that stand, that faithful expectation.  I need to do this when I am unsure, frustrated, or despairing.  I believe.

As a question, something else emerges.  What if I had not believed that I should see this goodness?  How would my life have been different?  What would I have missed?  What fruitful chances or risks would I have avoided?  What joys would I have missed?  What opportunities to stand for others, or for myself?  What depths of God’s grace would I have missed if I had not believed?

As an exclamation, we answer the question.  Wow!  I would have missed the chance to notice God acting in my life!  I would have hunkered down and waited for this mortal coil to vanish, biding my time until “the next life” rather than seeing the abundance around me!  Wow.

At times I have not believed, and my life reflected that.  Then I have come to believe, and my life changed.  And those changes in turn deepened my belief.  Wow.  Now, in the midst of social and political division and upheaval, in the midst of climate change, in the midst of continuing poverty and slavery, I believe that I will see the goodness of God.  Seeing is believing - and believing is seeing.

One last word.  Isaiah’s words today reference the healing of those without sight, but that’s not the only “miracle” promised.  He promises that “the tyrant shall be no more, and the scoffer shall cease to be; all those alert to do evil shall be cut off - those who . . . without grounds deny justice” (Isaiah 29:20-21).  As I read those words and long for that to be fulfilled, I wonder: when our eyes are opened, what do we see?  Perhaps many of us do not want open eyes, precisely because we then are faced with tyrants and evildoers.  But vision is not divisible.  If I refuse to see the evil, I am going to miss the goodness of God as well.  Vision can be costly, but it’s worth it.

Where do you see the goodness of God today?  What is the cost you pay for awareness?

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