into the great wide open

“Into the great wide open
Under them skies of blue
Out in the great wide open
A rebel without a clue” ~Tom Petty

Most folks assume that reckless, foolish behavior is something we grow out of – something that subsides with maturity. In many ways it is probably true. I am finding, however, a new kind of recklessness as I near the half century mark. The recklessness of youth assumes success; that our endeavors cannot fail. When we are young we are invincible. So, really, it is not reckless at all.

Real recklessness – true foolishness – fully accepts the possibility, hell, probability of failure… and acts anyway. The reckless spirit I am discovering peers over the edge, knows it is too high for survival, and jumps!

Butch Cassidy: Alright. I'll jump first.

Sundance Kid: No.

Butch Cassidy: Then you jump first.

Sundance Kid: No, I said.

Butch Cassidy: What's the matter with you?

Sundance Kid: I can't swim.

Butch Cassidy: Are you crazy? The fall will probably kill you.

Sundance Kid: Oh, shit...

This week the tribe I lead peered over the edge and jumped. We shook off the last bit of safety and stepped into the great wide open. And we jumped together. None of us are certain where we will land or even if we will survive. We only know that to stay, to stand still, is worse than the risk of the rocks below. We jump because, for all our doubt – all our questions, we believe in a “dangerous love” that calls us into a wild adventure; a call that leads us over the edge and into a new story. And we carry the old story with us…

Who we are and where we are going is the cliffhanger of our old story. It ended with a bunch of scared and tired outlaws trying to decide between the river gorge ahead and the posse at our backs. The new story finds us in mid-air, terrified and exhilarated, as we speed toward the rushing currents below. And at least one of us has never felt more alive…  

the love you make...

“for God so loved the world the he gave his one and only son” ~john 3:16

Advent is a season of waiting and so it is natural that we would look back and try to place ourselves in the middle of the world that awaited Jesus’ birth.

As we said last week, the old testament ends some 400 years prior to the birth of Christ. We do, however have Apocryphal writings that fill in those missing years; at least historically. We know that Israel, after exile and eventual return, was conquered and ruled by a variety of powerful nations and that the enemy was no longer across their border but among them.

We know that Greek Emperor Antiochus Epiphanes came to control Israel and that he was violently intolerant of religious diversity. He is said to have killed and sacrificed a pig on the altar of the temple in Jerusalem. He was known to have executed Jews for practicing circumcision. 2 Maccabees 7 relates the story of a woman and her 7 children who were tortured to death by the emperor for refusing to eat pork.

It was out of this climate that figures such as Judas Maccabeus arose. He was the last great hero of Israel and led his small army to a number of victories over the Greek occupational forces. While the writer of the texts mourn that Israel no longer has a prophet to speak for God, heroes such as Judas Maccabeus become the standard template for the type of deliverer awaited by Israel.

Eventually the Greek empire is conquered and replaced by Rome and the occasional violent still uprising occurs as the people wait for the messiah who would sit on David’s throne and restore Israel.

I wonder if that Israel would take comfort in these words:

“For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great
God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who
executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the
strangers, providing them food and clothing. You shall also love the
stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.
~ Deuteronomy 10:17-19

Israel was overrun by strangers. Not widows and orphans but certainly strangers. In the midst of this they clung with white knuckles to their law, their tradition, their identity. And they awaited action; not from a God who “loved the world” but from a God who hated their enemies.

Love is a tricky thing to define because we mostly do not understand it. Our popular culture – songs, movies, literature – paint a picture of love as a feeling. Something we feel or experience. I don’t mean to say that love is NOT a feeling but rather that it is more. It is deeper. It is both practical and mystery. It is emotion and action. Love is feeling but it is also doing.

But most of us use love in a distorted way or have experienced love in a distorted way. Love is a tool used to manipulate; a reward for good behavior that can be withheld for bad behavior. We mess it up; we fail to understand it; but we cling tightly to the idea. We live in a culture that values love even if our understanding of love is often way off the mark.

But imagine… Imagine a people who had forgotten love. Who no longer believed in love; a people who had exchanged love for despair, or even hatred; a people who feared that God had forgotten them and so could not imagine that God loved them. And imagine that, in that world, you were told that God was about to act because he loved, not just you, but your oppressor, your enemy. Imagine if the Hero came, not with a sword, but with love… love for you but also for those you hate; those who had hurt you.

“The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.” ~john 1: 9-11

In advent we wait… and today we specifically talk of waiting for Love. But do we… really? In the time leading up to Jesus’ birth, over those years of waiting… were these people of God waiting for Love or simply relief?

One of the reasons faith is so difficult for us is because the things we need so desperately often require from us the things we are most reluctant to give.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. ”
~matthew 5: 3-12

To be comforted we must mourn. To gain victory we must be meek. To receive mercy we must give mercy.

If we want to be loved… we must love.

“and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make” ~lennon & mccartney

Our prayer, if we pray for love at all, has been “God! love me and hate my enemy!”

His answer should send us back to our knees.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” ~matthew 5: 43-44

And so… maybe Christmas is either rejected by the Grinches among us… or, ironically, given over completely to the generic “merry” Christmas of twinkling lights and shiny paper. Maybe in an effort to avoid what true love requires, we create a false and shallow version of love that speaks to our feelings but seldom if ever requires action or pain or loss. Christmas came, not to make us merry… not to make us happy. Christmas came as a single flicker of flame on a tiny candle, lit in a darkened room.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it”

If any of you have witnessed the birth of a child you know that there is probably no more amazing thing that happens on earth. It is a process so filled with every emotion, every type of extreme. After the silence of hope and waiting, comes the pain and the struggle of labor. Sweat and blood and agony and exhaustion… (it’s hard on the moms too!) Sometimes hours of excruciating work. Sometimes it is dangerous. Sometimes it is fatal. But then… a child comes. This ugly,screaming, misshapen creature… who is, to at least one in the room, the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. If you are not certain you know what love is… this is the only place I know I have seen it… the only place I am sure I have seen it. In the aftermath of struggle and pain and exhaustion and labor… comes complete and pure love; a love for the new and fragile life in her arms but also a love for the world; for life; for the simple act of being. When, if for only a moment, we experience true love for one, we begin to touch the kind of love that could love all.

This is the promise of Advent. That love has come and that through the love of one, all will receive love.

“and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make”

His kingdom come…

song of hope - 1st sunday of advent

These are the final words of the Hebrew scripture:

Malachi 4:5-6

5 “See, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before that great and dreadful day of the LORD comes. 6He will turn the hearts of the parents to their children, and the hearts of the children to their parents; or else I will come and strike the land with total destruction.”

Israel had survived exile, returned to Jerusalem, rebuilt the temple, and reestablished worship in the holy city. But, by the time of Malachi, they had grown, not wicked or rebellious, but apathetic and hopeless. In this short book (only 4 chapters) we read God’s final words to his people. We read his final prophetic utterance of the old covenant. God speaks and is then silent for 400 years. Like most of the Old Testament books of prophecy, there are warnings and correction. There is a call to change. But, Malachi ends with hope. Malachi ends with a promise. God makes a promise… and then God is silent.

400 years later, Israel is occupied, as is much of the known world, by Rome. There was an old Jewish priest named Zechariah who was descended directly from Aaron, the brother of Moses. Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth, were devout and devoted to God and the Gospel of Luke tells us that they were “upright in the sight of God”. Luke also tells us that this old couple had no children as Elizabeth had never been able to conceive a child.

In those days, temple duties rotated by family and Zechariah was charged with burning incense inside the temple as the gathered worshippers prayed outside. While performing his tasks, the Angel Gabriel appeared to Zechariah (which scared Zechariah Spitless!) and said:

“Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to call him John. 14 He will be a joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth…

… He will bring back many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. 17 And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

If you know this story you know that Zechariah expressed what would have seemed a healthy dose of skepticism and asked, simply, “How can I know this is true?” He also reminded Gabriel that both he and Elizabeth were not getting any younger and that the whole story seemed a bit tough to swallow.

Gabriel’s answer to Zechariah’s “how can I know?” is exactly what I would have said… you know… if I were an Arc Angel… Gabriel essentially says “Duh… I am Gabriel… I stand in the presence of God…”

Oh… right… ok… sorry…

Then Gabriel tells Zechariah that he will be unable to speak, not a word, until the child is born.

Zechariah completes his temple rotation (in silence) and Goes home to Elizabeth who, soon after, discovers that she is pregnant. Over the coming months, Elizabeth remained in seclusion and is later visited by her cousin Mary who, as it happens, is also pregnant.

Finally the time comes for Elizabeth to give birth. The baby boy is born and their friends and neighbors shared their good wishes with the family. On the eighth day it was time to circumcise the boy and publically name him. Most everyone assumed that he would be named after his father, Zechariah but Elizabeth protests. To settle the issue, Zechariah is given a writing tablet upon which he writes: HIS NAME IS JOHN.

And then Zechariah’s voice returned… and he sang!

68 “Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
because he has come to his people and redeemed them.
69 He has raised up a horn[c] of salvation for us
in the house of his servant David
70 (as he said through his holy prophets of long ago),
71 salvation from our enemies
and from the hand of all who hate us—
72 to show mercy to our ancestors
and to remember his holy covenant,
73 the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
74 to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,
and to enable us to serve him without fear
75 in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.

76 And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
77 to give his people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
78 because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
79 to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”

At the end of Malachi, God speaks a promise and is then silent for 400 years. And then, 400 years later, he speaks the promise again, the same promise, to a humble and devout priest… and the priest is silent.

Hope is not found in our speaking, in our singing, in our words. Hope is found in silence; in listening for a voice that does not speak and then trusting in the silence. God spoke and then he ceased speaking but He was not absent; he was not idle. In his silence he began the work of preparation, of gestation, of preparing creation for the birth of hope.

Conception begins in passion, it is drama and life and excitement and fireworks. But then, the mystery takes over. The silence begins. The miracle of life that is set in action with such passion becomes a silent time of waiting; a time of anticipation; of hope. And life grows and becomes and is made ready… in silence.

Hoping is not wishing. We confuse the two fairly often but they are very different. A wish has a specific object. We create “wish lists” for Christmas. We make a wish when we blow out the candles on a birthday cake. When we make a wish, we wish for something. It can be noble or incredibly selfish but it is always specific. Hope is so much more; so much deeper. Hope is a thing that, when we most truly experience it, often has no tangible object; no thing we can name. While wishes often do not come true it is only lost hope that leads us to despair. A wish needs to be articulated or written down. Hope is often hidden… it is more fragile and more precious. And it is silent in the waiting.

“Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out” ~Vaclav Havel

‘The certainty of Christian hope lies beyond passion and beyond knowledge. Therefore we must sometimes expect our hope to come in conflict with darkness, desperation and ignorance. Therefore, too, we must remember that Christian optimism is not a perpetual sense of euphoria, an indefectible comfort in whose presence neither anguish nor tragedy can possibly exist. We must not strive to maintain a climate of optimism by the mere suppression of tragic realities. Christian optimism lies in a hope of victory that transcends all tragedy: a victory in which we pass beyond tragedy to glory with Christ crucified and risen’ ~thomas merton

God spoke and then God was silent. And creation hoped. Creation groaned. Creation waited.

In the early stages of pregnancy, there is not a lot of visible activity. Many of us wait months to even tell our friends or families that we are expecting. But, as the due date approaches, the signs become more clear, the change more dramatic. And hope grows stronger… more real… more visible. After 400 years of silent and un-noticed growth, the hope of God’s promise began to “show”. The signs of eminent birth became visible. And creation, who had carried this hope, began to feel the first subtle and then more pronounced kicking of hope, ready to be born.

Zechariah watched as his son grew inside his wife’s body. He watched in silence. He waited. And when the son came and he looked into his eyes, his silence turned to song and his waiting was over. So, within a matter of weeks, would God’s silence end as he looked into the eyes of his own son and sent his own song, in the voices of angels, to proclaim that hope had finally come.

smile! god hates you.

“There is the dreadful pit of the glowing flames of the wrath of God; there is hell's wide gaping mouth open; and you have nothing to stand upon, nor any thing to take hold of; there is nothing between you and hell but the air; it is only the power and mere pleasure of God that holds you up.” ~Jonathan Edwards

Today’s scripture passages were, to say the least, challenging. In Malachi; God rebukes and curses the priests and vows to smear dung on their faces. I was understandably less than enthusiastic regarding this pronouncement. And so; I flip over to the new testament passage in Revelation to find horse; bridle deep in blood from the proverbial “Grapes of Wrath”.

OK. So God is angry. God is mad.

I guess I should not be surprised. Every natural disaster - every hurricane, tsunami, earthquake – is explained by various prophets and preachers as the natural and expected outpouring of God’s wrath. I am not surprised but I am confused.

God destroys most of Haiti because of a generations old “Pact with the Devil”. God allowed or possibly even caused New Orleans to be ravaged by hurricane Katrina in order to prepare or for another terror attack or possibly to prompt the confirmation of a particular Supreme Court nominee. And yet; No natural disaster has stopped genocide in Rwanda. No earthquake has swallowed the evil in Darfur. And the state of Pennsylvania, or at least Penn State University, remains safe and untouched.

So we struggle with the idea of an angry God. We struggle because, if he is angry, it seems that he is, at very least, somewhat arbitrary in the way he rations out his wrath.

Many of us learned very early that god was angry and that his anger was more than justified. I opened with an excerpt from Jonathan Edwards’ sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”. The sermon was given on July 8, 1741. Let me read the quote again:

“There is the dreadful pit of the glowing flames of the wrath of God; there is hell's wide gaping mouth open; and you have nothing to stand upon, nor any thing to take hold of; there is nothing between you and hell but the air; it is only the power and mere pleasure of God that holds you up.” ~Jonathan Edwards

Most of us look back at these words, spoken 270 years ago, and smile that we have risen above this view of God. That we have gained considerable ground in those almost 300 years and that, while historically important, Edwards’ sermon has not footing in 21st century mainstream Christendom.

I want to read another quote. A quote made more recently; within the last few months rather than the last few centuries.

“Some of you, God hates you. Some of you, God is sick of you. God is frustrated with you. God is wearied by you. God has suffered long enough with you. He doesn’t think you’re cute. He doesn’t think it’s funny. He doesn’t think your excuse is “meritous” (not an actual word). He doesn’t care if you compare yourself to someone worse than you, He hates them too. God hates, right now, personally, objectively hates some of you.”

You might assume that this quote was taken from a fringe, outside-the-mainstream, preacher. Maybe the pastor in Florida who wanted to burn the Koran or the pastor in Oklahoma who protests at the funerals of veterans. The quote comes, in fact, from a very mainstream and very popular pastor; the pastor of a very young, hip church in a very hip city; a church of 10,000 plus members and several church plants; a bestselling Christian author and highly in demand speaker; the poster boy for young, hip, cool evangelicals.

The idea of an angry God is central to many, if not most of our teachings on salivation or atonement. Most of us were taught that there was this gulf between us and god – a gulf that burned with his anger toward his creation. Anger toward each and every one of us. And that we are saved, not so much because we were forgiven but because God decided to pour ALL of that anger out on his own son… on Jesus. (well… all except what he saved for Haiti and New Orleans).

My favorite theologian, N.T. Wright has written recently about the atonement and how our theology is a bit off point. Let me read from his response to a recent question on the topic of atonement and God’s anger.

“If you say Christ died in our place and took our penalty and our punishment, that’s fine. But if the narrative that you have in mind is of a malevolent, capricious, angry God who is determined to punish somebody for all this sin that’s going on, and, ah! here’s somebody who happens to be his own Son, right, he’ll do, we’ll punish him and then the rest of you can go free—that story radically distorts the beautiful biblical meaning of substitionary atonement.

Now I deliberately caricature to make the point. But substutionary atonement which is so central to justification means what it means within the biblical story, which is not that rather arbitrary angry God, determined to take it out on somebody, and it just happens to be an innocent victim. I’m not surprised that when people hear the story told like that, they often react against it”  ~N.T. Wright

You guys remember the old Saturday Night Live bit, “Deep Thoughts, by: Jack Handy”? One of my favorites was this pearl:

If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is "God is crying." And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is "Probably because of something you did."

It’s funny because we know two things about the statement. First; that it is so - very - wrong. And second; that it is pretty close to what most of us have and, maybe on some level, still believe.

Again, Tom Wright:

“This is what happens when people present over-simple stories… …with an angry God and a loving Jesus, with a God who demands blood and doesn’t much mind whose it is as long as it’s innocent. You’d have thought people would notice that this flies in the face of John’s and Paul’s deep-rooted theology of the love of the triune God: not ‘God was so angry with the world that he gave us his son’ but ‘God so loved the world that he gave us his son’.” ~N.T. Wright

I don’t pretend that scripture does not fully express God’s anger or His wrath. I would not suggest that these elements of his nature are false or that he has changed. I simply say this: that He is most fully and completely revealed in Jesus. In Christ we see Him fully for the first time. This is why Jesus said “if you have seen me, you have seen the father”. And so, all of God’s story, all of his character, all of what can be known of Him must be filtered through the gospels and through the person Jesus.

When we embrace and embolden ourselves with the angry God, we give ourselves license to be angry. When we embrace a God who hates, we are then able to justify our own hatred. We use this Anne Lamott quote a lot around here:

“You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.”

A God who hates releases us to hate. To hate anything other – anything we do not understand, anyone who looks or behaves, or believes differently - Anyone not like us.

Kris Kristofferson wrote a song in the early 70s entitled “Jesus Was a Capricorn” 

Jesus was a Capricorn, he ate organic foods.
He believed in love and peace and never wore no shoes.
Long hair, beard and sandals and a funky bunch of friends.
Reckon they'd just nail him up if He come down again. 

'Cos everybody's got to have somebody to look down on.
Who they can feel better than at anytime they please.
Someone doin' somethin' dirty, decent folks can frown on.
If you can't find nobody else, then help yourself to me. 

Egg Head's cussin Red Neck's cussin' hippies for their hair.
Others laugh at straights who laugh at freaks who laugh at squares.
Some folks hate the whites who hate the blacks who hate the clan.
Most of us hate anything that we don't understand.

May we be a people who throw away hatred and embrace love. May we be a community where hate and anger find no ground fertile enough to grow. May we remember that Jesus came, not because God hated the world, but because he loved it… and because we are loved may we love the world, both inside and outside our own tribe. His Kingdom Come…

is this the right room for an argument?

Titus 3

1 Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready to do whatever is good, 2 to slander no one, to be peaceable and considerate, and always to be gentle toward everyone.

3 At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. 4 But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, 5 he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit,6 whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, 7 so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life. 8 This is a trustworthy saying. And I want you to stress these things, so that those who have trusted in God may be careful to devote themselves to doing what is good. These things are excellent and profitable for everyone.

9 But avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and arguments and quarrels about the law, because these are unprofitable and useless. 10 Warn a divisive person once, and then warn them a second time. After that, have nothing to do with them. 11 You may be sure that such people are warped and sinful; they are self-condemned.

Americans, at least some of us, love a good debate. We love to watch. Some of us love to participate. We love to wrestle with ideas; to look at an issue, take a position, and then plant our feet and defend it.

For some… ok, for me… presidential election seasons are watched with the same enthusiasm that some have for baseball or football. I love politics for the sport. I love the offensive and defensive strategy; the virtual violence of the debate. And election night? It’s like the Super Bowl without the funny ads.

Debate is important. It is the way we hammer out ideas and reach solutions to problems. It is the way we come to know our own mind or the minds of those we follow. It is even, sometimes, the way our minds are changed. Debate is really good and really healthy; except when it is not.

The history of the church is punctuated with debate; with sometimes violent and bloody debate over how the scriptures are to be read; or even if they are to be read (by anyone other than qualified professionals). While our tendency toward violence based on religious conviction seems to have waned (within Christendom) our angry rhetoric and our propensity for drawing lines in the sand seem to be alive and well.

Most of us (that grew up in church) grew up in a world of denominational division. As a Baptist teenager I worried about my friends that went to the Methodist church. I had no idea what the Methodist believed or how they differed from Baptist; I simply knew they were different and therefore suspect. I would laugh out loud, years later, when I read Norman Maclean’s “A River Runs Through It”. The patriarch of the Maclean family was a Presbyterian minister and, when asked to explain the difference, said simply that “a Methodist is nothing more than a Baptist who can read”.

I would guess that many of us grew up with similar prejudices toward those outside our particular brand of Christianity. While it is probably human nature to align ourselves with certain tribes – to feel more at home in one community than in another – there is a dark side to this sort of tribalism that has for centuries led to deep anger, hatred, and even bloody conflict.

9 …avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and arguments and quarrels about the law, because these are unprofitable and useless.

Again, it has been years since the church has burned a heretic or engaged in a religious war, and yet we continue to fight these battles from pulpits or blogs or twitter or facebook posts.

A popular young pastor publishes a book asking questions about heaven and hell – and he is issued a smug “farewell” and his seat is removed from the table. A national pundit and commentator instructs Christians to flee churches who utter the phrase “Social Justice”. A fundi preacher in Hipster Clothing makes old-school pronouncements on gender roles; or women in the pulpit, and is descended upon by the emergent crowd like ants on a discarded ice cream cone (ok… that was me… I think I might have been one of those ants…)

We love to fight – probably because we love to be right. We need to be right. And if we are going to be right; somebody has to be wrong.

9 …avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and arguments and quarrels about the law, because these are unprofitable and useless.

There is an ancient Jewish parable in which two rabbis are arguing over a verse in the Torah. The argument has gone on for over twenty years. Finally, God gets so annoyed by the endless discussion that he comes down and he tells them that he will reveal what the verse really means. The Rabbis turn to God and respond by saying, "What right do you have to tell us what it means? You gave us the words, now leave us in peace to wrestle with them."

Maybe, if we are honest, winning the argument – being right - is more important than truth. Or maybe we simply enjoy the argument for its own sake. And maybe God is annoyed at our “endless discussion”.

One of the greatest frustrations with our government is that it is crippled by these very kinds of arguments. While there are those who live at the far left or the far right, most are simply folks who want the people we elect to do their jobs and to keep the ball rolling forward. Wisdom should tell us that solutions are superior to ideology and that hard work accomplishes more than debate. And it seems that the church now follows the same path as our government. We have entered into “endless discussions” over this doctrine or that stream of theology and we have decided that we should stop all forward movement until the issue is settled. Trouble is the issue is never settled – and many of the issues likely never will be settled. And instead of advancing the Kingdom – instead of working together to build it on earth – we beat up on each other – we argue and debate – until we are nothing but noise and confusion to those on the outside looking in.

We have a calling. We are called to change the world; to build and to create; to strip away the things that blind us and the rest of the human race from the reality of His kingdom come. While our beliefs, our convictions, our doctrines may help us toward that end; they are NOT an end in themselves.

Outside of Christ, we have only one picture of human bliss – of humanity in perfect harmony with its creator. We see this picture in the creation story. We see this harmony in the Garden. And we see that this harmony, this beauty, this pre-fall bliss was not the result of right doctrine or good theology. In fact, it was the knowledge of good and evil that destroyed humanity’s perfect harmony with the creator. Adam and Eve had always been naked – it only became a problem when the idea of right and wrong entered the conversation. God’s “who told you that you were naked” is perhaps worth a great deal of contemplation.

John 13

34 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

Not because we are right… not because we agree… not because we have one, single, pure doctrine… but because we love one another.

The name of Jesus is not exalted by the eloquence of our words or the strength of our arguments. But His name is shouted in our love for one another and for those around us. We will never “win the world” by winning the debates within the church or even the debates between the church and those outside. We win the fight when we stop fighting. We lose when we confuse the affirmation of our ideas with real and genuine love – which is what our hearts really need. But I win when I realize that I don’t much care whether you agree with me so long as I know you love me.

9 …avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and arguments and quarrels about the law, because these are unprofitable and useless.

I am 47. I can see 50 in pretty clear focus. In a handful of years I will have outlived both of my parents. And I find myself looking back more often. It is not that I have stopped looking forward; it’s just that I am finding the path ahead is greatly defined by the path behind.

I see change. The world has changed. The ways we communicate have changed. But, mostly, I am thinking about how I have changed.

As I came to the close of my 20s – as I faced 30 – I was certain about a great many things. I knew what was right and what was wrong. I knew what God loved… and what he hated. I argued and debated for right belief. I smashed my secular records, gave up R-rated movies, salty language, and beer. And I wondered, if not out loud, if HIV was not a natural consequence of sin. I voted republican and was a 5 point Calvanist.

When I look back at 20-something me, I am not ashamed or filled with regret. I know that that version of myself was a necessary part of becoming who I am in this moment. And I am encouraged because I am beginning to understand that growth cannot happen if we remain static – that when we grip to tightly any moment in time, we miss the beauty of change and growth and wisdom.

These days; I rarely, if ever, listen to “christian music”. I love and embrace salty language… and beer. I don’t believe that anybody should be denied a seat at God’s table. I am not sure I believe in the “rapture” and I am more than a little conflicted about hell. And I look back at that 27 year old kid and realize that we still have something in common. We both want desperately to live as closely to God’s heart as possible. We both are seeking wisdom and truth and we are both being changed by every question asked.

And so… I look back and marvel at the evolving reality of the man I am while I look forward to meeting the man I will be when 50 has almost disappeared in my rear-view mirror.

As our vision as a community has come into focus over the last few weeks and months, I have been struck by something beautiful and surprising in its simplicity. As we become a people who pursue the work of the kingdom - liturgy as the work of the people – our doctrine becomes less and less important. When we are raking leaves at Miss Bev’s House or sorting sweatshirts for “The One”… we are not all that concerned with debates or controversies. We are not concerned with being right when we are concerned with being busy. This community represents a variety of opinions on a variety of issues and we will certainly discuss and debate these issues over coffee, or a meal, or a glass of red wine. But our debates will not define us. Our doctrine will not define us. Instead, let us be defined by our love for one another, despite our differences, and by the way we actively engage in the work of the kingdom. Let us continue to believe that His kingdom is here and that we are called to actively participate in the full revelation of his kingdom. A kingdom revealed in our love… for Him… for each other… and for the world.

His Kingdom Come

Occupy Jerusalem

Nehemiah 5

 1 Now the men and their wives raised a great outcry against their fellow Jews. 2 Some were saying, “We and our sons and daughters are numerous; in order for us to eat and stay alive, we must get grain.”  3 Others were saying, “We are mortgaging our fields, our vineyards and our homes to get grain during the famine.”  4 Still others were saying, “We have had to borrow money to pay the king’s tax on our fields and vineyards. 5 Although we are of the same flesh and blood as our fellow Jews and though our children are as good as theirs, yet we have to subject our sons and daughters to slavery. Some of our daughters have already been enslaved, but we are powerless, because our fields and our vineyards belong to others.”  6 When I heard their outcry and these charges, I was very angry. 7 I pondered them in my mind and then accused the nobles and officials. I told them, “You are charging your own people interest!” So I called together a large meeting to deal with them 8 and said: “As far as possible, we have bought back our fellow Jews who were sold to the Gentiles. Now you are selling your own people, only for them to be sold back to us!” They kept quiet, because they could find nothing to say.  9 So I continued, “What you are doing is not right. Shouldn’t you walk in the fear of our God to avoid the reproach of our Gentile enemies? 10 I and my brothers and my men are also lending the people money and grain. But let us stop charging interest! 11 Give back to them immediately their fields, vineyards, olive groves and houses, and also the interest you are charging them—one percent of the money, grain, new wine and olive oil.”  12 “We will give it back,” they said. “And we will not demand anything more from them. We will do as you say.”    Then I summoned the priests and made the nobles and officials take an oath to do what they had promised. 13 I also shook out the folds of my robe and said, “In this way may God shake out of their house and possessions anyone who does not keep this promise. So may such a person be shaken out and emptied!”    At this the whole assembly said, “Amen,” and praised the LORD. And the people did as they had promised.  14 Moreover, from the twentieth year of King Artaxerxes, when I was appointed to be their governor in the land of Judah, until his thirty-second year—twelve years—neither I nor my brothers ate the food allotted to the governor. 15 But the earlier governors—those preceding me—placed a heavy burden on the people and took forty shekels[a] of silver from them in addition to food and wine. Their assistants also lorded it over the people. But out of reverence for God I did not act like that. 16Instead, I devoted myself to the work on this wall. All my men were assembled there for the work; we[b] did not acquire any land.  17 Furthermore, a hundred and fifty Jews and officials ate at my table, as well as those who came to us from the surrounding nations. 18 Each day one ox, six choice sheep and some poultry were prepared for me, and every ten days an abundant supply of wine of all kinds. In spite of all this, I never demanded the food allotted to the governor, because the demands were heavy on these people. 19 Remember me with favor, my God, for all I have done for these people.

It would be fairly easy to slide today’s passage into a purely political discussion and I have to admit that the temptation is great. That said, while I won’t promise not to touch on the relevance of this passage to current events here and over the rest of the world, I hope we can find a deeper truth in the passage. I hope that, together, we can find a way forward into our own story that allows the ancient story to resonate and illuminate.

Israel had been in exile – in Persia - and, although Nehemiah and others were allowed to return to Jerusalem, they were there at a foreign king’s pleasure and were arguably still in exile – while residing in their own land. Nehemiah had been granted to opportunity to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem and it was for this purpose that a great number of Jews had returned home. The Jewish society and economy, however, were not fully restored and the result seems to be a situation where a few benefitted financially during the return but many did not. In fact, it seems that our passage indicates that many Jews found themselves oppressed in their own homeland – not by the Persian government – but by their own.

Verse 1 of Jeremiah 5 says that “the men and their wives raised a great outcry against their fellow Jews.” They complained of lack of food for their families. They complained that they had been forced to incur debt in order to simply eat. And they complained that the lenders, other Jews, were charging high rates of interest and forcing them to mortgage their property – with all the associated risks – in order to survive.

Jeremiah hears the complaints of the poor in his community and he is angered. He strongly accuses the powerful, the rulers, the officials within his community. Not, by the way, the “religious” officials or leaders. Rather, he accuses the local Jewish government of oppressing their own people. He accuses the rich and powerful of benefiting at the expense of the poor and powerless. Nehemiah is angered by the disparity between the greatest and the least of his community and he speaks out for those whose voices had been ignored. 

“You are charging your own people interest!” So I called together a large meeting to deal with them 8 and said: “As far as possible, we have bought back our fellow Jews who were sold to the Gentiles. Now you are selling your own people, only for them to be sold back to us!” They kept quiet, because they could find nothing to say. 9 So I continued, “What you are doing is not right. Shouldn’t you walk in the fear of our God to avoid the reproach of our Gentile enemies? 10 I and my brothers and my men are also lending the people money and grain. But let us stop charging interest! 11 Give back to them immediately their fields, vineyards, olive groves and houses, and also the interest you are charging them—one percent of the money, grain, new wine and olive oil.”

and then an amazing thing happens. The accused officials and rulers respond:

12 “We will give it back,” they said. “And we will not demand anything more from them. We will do as you say.”

And then Nehemiah, in order to seal the deal, calls in the priests and makes the officials and rulers take an oath before the priests that they will return the possessions and property they have taken, return the interest they have charged, and treat the least in their community with justice and compassion.

This is sort of and “Occupy Jerusalem” moment…

Ok… in fairness… I did indicate that I might mention it…

In this ancient story we find a fairly modern and familiar situation. We live, if we are honest, in a society that values the beautiful, the powerful, the wealthy, and the successful.  And I do not suggest that this is completely surprising or even completely wrong. We certainly admire those who are visionaries… innovators and risk takers… and we should never resent their successes, financial or otherwise. 

However… when wealth becomes its own goal rather than the byproduct of vision or hard work - and when financial wealth is gained with little regard to its adverse effects on others… what is our responsibility?

Maybe it is to remember that we are citizens of another kingdom. Maybe to remember that while we remain in exile – remembering our passage a couple of weeks ago and the admonition to settle down and to live life where we are – and yet to always remember that our 1st and deepest responsibility is to His kingdom and his Kingship.

Maybe it is to look at our own country and even the world and to ask ourselves this:

What does it mean to love mercy and to do justice?

If we forget our party affiliations and the marching orders we receive from their ideologies, what would Jesus have us do? What is our responsibility? Or more pointedly… Who is our neighbor?

What if Jesus were president?

I was asked once to participate in a debate as to whether Jesus’ teachings were more compatible with the Democratic Party or the Republican party. I showed up and made my case but found myself saying again and again that the entire question was really wrong. Jesus does not call us to follow a political ideology… he calls us to follow him.

And so when Nehemiah saw the oppression of the least in his community at the hands of the powerful and important in that same community… he stood up and he spoke out. And he demanded a change.  For us, when we see so many people hurting… struggling… unemployed… hopeless… and yet the most powerful and successful among us seem to only gain in power and success… why do we check our party allegiance before we decide how to respond? Has the American church… on the whole… failed to stand up for the poor… the hungry… the outsider… and has the church instead focused on valuing and protecting the powerful?

What if the churched stood up and spoke out against oppression and poverty in our own society? What if we stood up and spoke out for the poor and the oppressed  with the same level of passion and conviction to that we often reserve for our anti-abortion or anti-gay marriage rhetoric? What if Christians followed Nehemiah’s lead and demanded that our leaders govern and lead fairly and justly. What if our rulers ruled as Nehemiah ruled…

If the final section of today’s passage, Nehemiah becomes governor and holds the position for 12 years. Here is his description of his term:

…neither I nor my brothers ate the food allotted to the governor. 15 But the earlier governors—those preceding me—placed a heavy burden on the people and took forty shekels[a] of silver from them in addition to food and wine. Their assistants also lorded it over the people. But out of reverence for God I did not act like that. 16Instead, I devoted myself to the work on this wall. All my men were assembled there for the work; we[b] did not acquire any land.
 17 Furthermore, a hundred and fifty Jews and officials ate at my table, as well as those who came to us from the surrounding nations. 18 Each day one ox, six choice sheep and some poultry were prepared for me, and every ten days an abundant supply of wine of all kinds. In spite of all this, I never demanded the food allotted to the governor, because the demands were heavy on these people.

What if we expected to be governed with true justice… for all? What if our leaders refused to gain at our expense… refused to prosper as we suffer? What if we believed that our calling was to build Jesus’ kingdom and to do the work necessary to see it come on earth as it is in heaven?

His Kingdom Come…

walk on by...

Ok... there is something unassailable about a great pop song. They may not be daring or edgy... but they are to music what Frank Lloyd Wright is to visual art. And if Dylan is Van Gogh… Bacharach and David are certainly Wright.

I saw Dionne Warwick perform last night. My wife called her the original Diva and she meant that in the most flattering and honoring sense of the word. At 70+ years and certainly with number one hits and platinum sales long in the rear view mirror, the legendary singer reminded me that sales and awards and magazines covers are not the point. The point is, as it has always been, the songs. And my god… what songs.

We say that familiarity breeds contempt and maybe it is true; but not with these songs… not with these melodies.  From the opening notes of “Walk on By”, she had me. I could not resist a smile. Maybe it’s because these songs take me back to my childhood or maybe it is simply because they are so perfectly crafted and, after 40 years, still delivered with an unbelievable ease and joy. It’s not that her voice is as strong as it was in 1968… or even 1988… it is because these songs belong to her. They were composed by master architects who knew so intimately the eventual resident who would make these songs her home. They knew where to put the corners and the long hallways. They knew where best to let the light in and where to embrace the dimness of evening. They knew what type of staircase was needed to make the house beautiful and yet allow the lady of the house to move effortlessly up and down the stairs.

Is there a more hopeful ode to failed love than “What Do You Get When You Fall in Love?” Is there a more heartbreakingly beautiful melody than “Alfie”?  Is there a more irresistible sing-a-long than “What the World Needs Now”?  And is there another voice who more perfectly indwells these melodies?

My high-school buddy, Rob, has played and toured with Dionne Warwick for over 20 years. I went to the show last night because he lives a world away and it was a rare opportunity to see him face to face. I went to see my oldest and closest friend and to reconnect with a younger and less cynical version of myself. I am not sure I’d have gotten there so effortlessly without those songs and that voice. Thanks, Ms. Warwick. Thanks for taking care of my buddy Rob and thank you for taking care of and watching over these songs. They both remain in good hands.

looking back...

I am 47. I can see 50 in pretty clear focus. In a handful of years I will have outlived both of my parents. And I find myself looking back more often. It is not that I have stopped looking forward; it’s just that I am finding the path ahead is greatly defined by the path behind.

I see change. The world has changed. The ways we communicate have changed. But, mostly, I am thinking about how I have changed.

As I came to the close of my 20s – as I faced 30 – I was certain about a great many things. I knew what was right and what was wrong. I knew what God loved… and what he hated.  I argued and debated for right belief. I smashed secular records, gave up R-rated movies, salty language, and beer. And I wondered, if not out loud, if HIV was not a natural consequence of sin. I voted republican.

When I look back at 20-something me, I am not ashamed or filled with regret. I know that that version of myself was a necessary part of becoming who I am in this moment. And I am encouraged because I am beginning to understand that growth cannot happen if we remain static – that when we grip to tightly any moment in time, we miss the beauty of change and growth and wisdom.

These days; I rarely, if ever, listen to “christian music”. I love and embrace salty language… and beer. I don’t believe that the earth was made in 6 days and I don’t believe that LGBT folks should be denied a seat at God’s table. And I look back at that 27 year old kid and realize that we still have something in common. We both want desperately to live as closely to God’s heart as possible. We both are seeking wisdom and truth and we are both being changed by every question asked.

And so… I look back and marvel at the evolving reality of the man I am while I look forward to meeting the man I will be when 50 has almost disappeared in my rear-view mirror.

the parable of the lost sherpa

ok…

So you are climbing Everest and you have contracted with a Sherpa to guide you to the top. Thing is - he has never led an expedition to the summit. He has been on the mountain most of his life. He’s been to the summit with other sherpas.  And you like him, he’s scrappy and determined; and really wants to go to the summit… to lead a team to the summit. So you go…

At base camp you notice that he’s not always as sure of himself as the more experienced sherpas. He seems to ask a lot of questions. He alternates between great enthusiasm and deep doubt. But he is going. Doubt or no doubt; he is going. And so you follow…

At the next encampment you notice that some new climbers have joined the team. The young Sherpa has invited them. He seems to like them but you are not crazy about them. They are just so different… so unlike the rest of the team (or maybe they are just unlike you). But they seem to want to climb and he wants to lead them (and you) up the mountain.

Then you notice his gear. You have never heard of the maker and you have been climbing for a long time. You also realize that the map he carries, his map to the peak, is not the standard map. In fact, it is a map that many of the other sherpas have rejected – warned others not to trust.

And still more climbers join. Some with no maps. Some with maps they have drawn themselves… and worse; you begin to believe your team is lost.

And you become afraid.

You wonder, from base camp, if the novice Sherpa and his team made the summit. You kinda hope he makes it but you know in your heart there is no way he could have. And you think aloud, “I’ll come back and try again… I'm sure I will.”

tribes III

A tribe is defined as a connected group on a mission. Many of us find our tribe when we find a place or a group that feels like home... a place that fits. We long for acceptance and the ties that bind - ties that are often missing from our natural families.

But what if our search for home - our search to fit in and be accepted - turns toxic in that it corrupts the mission

What if the mission becomes comfort?

What if the mission becomes convenience?

What if we begin to bristle at the idea that a tribe requires anything of us at all?

In our efforts to make a "home" for our tribe, have we given up the core of the word's definition? Have we put aside the "mission" that defines us.

Why does your tribe exist? What is the mission? What are you building or tearing down? How are you changing your neighborhoods, your cities, the world? And... if your mission is to make sure that all are comfortable, that no one feels the pressure of expectations... are you a tribe at all?

the holiness of dirty hands

Matthew 27:24-31
New International Version (NIV)

24 When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” he said. “It is your responsibility!”

25 All the people answered, “His blood is on us and on our children!”

26 Then he released Barabbas to them. But he had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified.

The Soldiers Mock Jesus

27 Then the governor’s soldiers took Jesus into the Praetorium and gathered the whole company of soldiers around him. 28 They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, 29 and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand. Then they knelt in front of him and mocked him. “Hail, king of the Jews!” they said. 30 They spit on him, and took the staff and struck him on the head again and again. 31 After they had mocked him, they took off the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

We ended last week in the upper room with Jesus. As we have continued this week, we have seen him betrayed, arrested, and brought to trial. As I read back over this narrative – especially in Matthew 27 – I noticed a theme that I had not really seen before. The chapter begins with Judas:

3Judas—the one who had betrayed Him with a kiss for 30 pieces of silver—saw that Jesus had been condemned, and suddenly Judas regretted what he had done. He took the silver back to the chief priests and elders and tried to return it to them.

Judas: 4I can’t keep this money! I’ve sinned! I’ve betrayed an innocent man! His blood will be on my hands. (The Voice)

and then…

5Judas threw down the money in the temple, went off, and hanged himself. 6The chief priests looked at the silver coins and picked them up.

Chief Priests and Elders: You know, according to the law, we can’t put blood money in the temple treasury.

The priests take Jesus to Pilate, the Roman governor, and Pilate listens to their accusations and questions Jesus as well. Pilate is perplexed by the situation and is even advised by his wife:

18Pilate knew the chief priests and elders hated Jesus and had delivered Him up because they envied Him. 19Then Pilate sat down on his judgment seat, and he received a message from his wife: “Distance yourself utterly from the proceedings against this righteous man. I have had a dream about Him, a dream full of twisted sufferings—He is innocent, I know it, and we should have nothing to do with Him.”

And finally, we see an exasperated Pilate. He has found no guilt in the man Jesus. He has offered a common criminal in exchange for Jesus’ life - and still the crowd cries for the blood of the Nazarene. With no other way to appease the growing blood lust, Pilate literally washes his hands and absolves himself of responsibility.

Clean hands…

It seems that there is great concern with most of this narrative’s characters with the purity and cleanliness of their hands. Judas seeks to erase the blood from his own hands as he casts the payment for his betrayal at the feet of the priests. The priests are unwilling to place the money back into the coffers from which it came because it has now become “blood money”. Pilate’s wife dreams of the coming sufferings of an innocent man and pleads with her husband to avoid staining himself with Jesus blood. And finally Pilate literally washes his hands and turns Jesus over to the mob with these words:

Pilate: You will see to this crucifixion, for this man’s blood will be upon you and not upon me. I wash myself of it.

Crowd: Indeed, let His blood be upon us— upon us and our children!

And there it is… finally… someone willing – even eager - to wear the stain of this man’s death. Willing not only to wear it but to pass it on to their children.

The phrase “Plausible Deniability” entered our vocabulary in the mid 1970s and has been used a great deal since, especially in the political realm. The idea behind it is that those in the highest places of power are insulated from certain unsavory activities so that they are able to believably deny participation in questionable activities. If you are a fan of mafia movies or series like “The Sopranos” then you know that the mob works in much the same way. A form of this idea seems to be at work in this story. Everyone involved; from Judas to the priests to Pilate seem less concerned with Jesus guilt or innocence than in protecting themselves from being dirtied in the whole messy affair. Everyone wants to walk away from this story with clean hands.

But what if dirty hands are a good thing… what if holiness is found in dirty hands?

One of my favorite songs is a tune written and recorded by the Indigo Girls. The song is called “Hammer and a Nail”. Here’s a bit of the lyric:

…even my sweat smells clean -Glare off the white hurts my eyes 

Gotta get out of bed, get a hammer and a nail, learn how to use my hands 

Not just my head, I'll think myself into jail; now I know a refuge never grows 

From a chin in a hand in a thoughtful pose - Gotta tend the earth if you want a rose 

The idea is pretty simple, really. Most of the stuff that brings life and fulfillment and peace… most of these things get your hands dirty.

When I was a kid I had a mom who believed in work. Physical labor. HARD physical labor. We owned 20 acres but our house was built in the back corner of the property with only about 20-30 feel from our back door to deep, thick, southeast Arkansas forest. My mom wanted a big pretty back yard. So… she called the guy who owned the woods behind us and got permission to clear and landscape it – about 100 yards beyond our own property. And when I say she got permission for us… I mean me. I spent two months (or so) on that job and suffered exhaustion, a horrible case of poison ivy, and used several bars of lava soap. I was probably 14 or 15 at the time. I can’t say that I remember it fondly but I can say that, once it was done, it was really nice. Pathways through the larger remaining trees. Flower beds. It was really nice. And my hands were really dirty. Also worth noting that, due in large part to my mother’s belief in physical labor, I graduated high school at 135 pounds with a 30” waste. A young man once told his father, who was a farmer, that he had decided to go to college to pursue the “higher things” because the higher things could be pursued in the shade.

The book of Acts is a story of a people who got their hands dirty. Who risked and worked and sweated to carry the kingdom as far as they could reach. Unfortunately, Christianity quickly became defined by what we believe rather than by what we do. You don’t have to spend five minutes on the internet to figure out that that has not changed much in the last 1700-1800 years. Doctrines don’t get our hands dirty. Arguments over theology rarely put earth under our fingernails. The word “Liturgy” does not mean “what the people believe” or “how the people think”. In means – the “work of the people”.

Our history is filled with Saints who were not afraid of dirty hands. In today’s reading we see the story of Maximillian Kolbe, who hid Jews during World War II and was eventually executed in the camps at Auschwitz. Or Russian Saint Basil the Blessed (the Holy Fool) who shoplifted and gave to the poor in order to shame the miserly rich and who openly rebuked Ivan the Terrible for his violent behavior toward his own people. We see the ink stained hands of the Irish Monks who transcribed the scripture at Kells. Father Damien, Mother Theresa, Bonhoffer, Corrie Ten Boom… Hands that touch and embrace the leper, the AIDS victim, the prisoner, the orphan. Dirty hands… Holy hands…

When Jesus left his disciples on the mountaintop, he left them with a task… a great commission. He told them - not to get their beliefs straight or to establish sound doctrine. He told them to “CHANGE THE WORLD.”

Augustine, no opponent of theological and doctrinal purity said that any interpretation (of scripture) which leads us into living a life of love has been interpreted "goodly" even though not correctly. In other words… If what we believe about the bible leads us to do the work of the kingdom – then our theology, no matter how messed up, has done its work. If I can paraphrase the entire book of James: “don’t tell me what you believe – show me what you have done – show me the dirt on your hands.

We change the world when we get our hands dirty in the mess of a friends divorce – in a homeless camp in the middle of Chenal – when we love folks that don’t look like us or believe what we believe. We get our hands dirty when we decide to grow something of our faith instead of settling for a processed, pre-packaged version of somebody else’s faith.

There is another character in today’s passage who was not motivated by an effort to escape the blood on his hands… Jesus

In him we see what the work of the kingdom looks like. In His stained hands we see the sacrifice involved in being more than a hearer of the word but a doer. We see the sweat and blood mingled on his brow. We see the dust of the road to Calvary caked on his legs and chest in a muddy mixture of earth and sweat and blood. We see a God who was willing to get His hands dirty in order to show us how the world is changed.

My life is part of the global life; I'd found myself becoming more immobile

When I'd think a little girl in the world can't do anything

A distant nation my community, a street person my responsibility

If I have a care in the world I have a gift to bring

May we be a people who believe that we are responsible for one another.

May we find the beauty in thinking less and doing more…

TALKING less and doing more.

and may we joyfully take the dirty, stained hand of those around us into our own earthy grasp and continue to tend the earth and change the world.

His Kingdom Come…

the beauty of peeling paint

This is a holy moment…

Matthew 26:26-35 - New International Version (NIV) ²⁶ While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” ²⁷ Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. ²⁸ This is my blood of the^[a] covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. ²⁹ I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” ³⁰ When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. ³¹ Then Jesus told them, “This very night you will all fall away on account of me, for it is written:   “‘I will strike the shepherd,     and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’^[b]   32 But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.” ³³ Peter replied, “Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will.”   ³⁴ “Truly I tell you,” Jesus answered, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” ³⁵ But Peter declared, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.” And all the other disciples said the same.

A sacrament, in a general definition, refers to a ritual meant to invoke divine presence. The Roman Catholic Church defines a sacrament as “an outward sign of an inward (invisible) grace, instituted by Jesus Christ”. The Council of Trent (1545-1563) established the 7 sacraments which are still recognized by Roman Catholics today.  The 7 Sacraments are: Baptism, Confirmation, Eucharist, Reconciliation, Anointing of the Sick, Marriage, and Holy Orders (ordination). The Eastern church general accepts the same 7 Sacraments or “Holy Mysteries”, while most Protestants accept only 2 – Baptism and Communion.

An argument can and has been made that, in today’s passage, it was not Jesus’ intent to establish a new sacrament; that he was, in fact, simply observing the very old tradition of the Passover Meal and that his admonition “as often as you do this…” was an assumption that his followers would continue this yearly observance of Passover but with a new and deeper understanding of its meaning.  Regardless of Jesus’ intent, the New Testament seems to indicate that this practice eventually became much more frequent than the yearly Passover feast.

Holy Mysteries...

The Orthodox Church teaches that the Sacraments are humanity’s mystical participation in divine grace. I think maybe that is true. One of the tragedies of modern evangelicalism is the move away from this mystical eastern belief paradigm to a rational logic based system.  Our need to understand has become greater than our need to simply know. Our effort to build a systematic theology which answers every question and defeats every challenge has damaged our ability to wonder… to experience awe… to have our breath taken away by the beautiful mystery of our existence and the Word who was there from the beginning.

When we lose mystery; when we trade it for understanding, we lose the sacraments… the beauty of this holy moment between Jesus and his friends. This moment becomes a one dimensional picture – a familiar image on a canvas – a moment whose beauty is covered and hidden in our understanding; our interpretation of the event.

Arguably, Leonardo DaVinci’s “The Last Supper” is one of the 4 or 5 most iconic and well known works of art ever created. Painted between 1495 and 1497, the painting measures 15 ft x 29 ft and covers the entire wall of a monastery in Milan, Italy. Because of the materials used and the nature of the painting, it began to deteriorate pretty quickly and by 1556 fewer than 60 years after its completion, one critic declared to work “ruined”. 

By the 1970’s the painting looked like this and in 1978 a 21 year restoration project began which involved, perhaps to oversimplify, painting over the original work – essentially covering the original with an official copy. Some critics claim that the restored version contains significant changes in color, tones, and even some facial shapes.

Those of you who are art history buffs may enjoy this but I imagine others are looking for a connection – other than the painting’s subject matter - to the text. Here it is:

I wonder if in our desire to understand - to create a good doctrine or theology – we lose the beauty, the mystery of the sacrament in our effort to improve it.  Mary Shelley (Frankenstein) saw the painting on a trip to Milan in 1844 and said:

"First we visited the fading inimitable fresco of Leonardo da Vinci. How vain are copies! not in one, nor in any print, did i ever see the slightest approach to the expression in our Savior’s face, such as it is in the original. Majesty and love - these are the words that would describe it - joined to an absence of all guile that expresses the divine nature more visibly than I ever saw it in any other picture."

If familiarity really does breed contempt; many of us have lost the mystery of Eucharist through repetition… through vain observance. If your tradition is a highly liturgical tradition, maybe the bread and wine have lost their power through monotony and dry ritual. Others see no mystery because our traditions removed them… intentionally. By observing the sacrament erratically or rarely -  by moving it from the center of worship to an afterthought – our traditions have sought to make the practice a shallow symbol with no real cause for awe or contemplation.

But what if there is more? What if the act of breaking bread – drinking wine – is more than a picture… more than a symbol? What if the mystery of Eucharist – of all the sacraments – is that in their observance we truly touch the divine? What if Christ is actually present in the bread and wine? If that were true – if we believed that were true – who would we invite?

A few years ago, Jerusalem gave me a book called “Take this Bread”. The book was written by a journalist named Sara Miles. It is her story – a story of unexpected encounter and transformation found within the deep mystery of Eucharist.

One early, cloudy morning when I was forty-six, I walked into a church, ate a piece of bread, and took a sip of wine. A routine Sunday activity for tens of millions of Americans—except that up until that moment I'd led a thoroughly secular life, at best indifferent to religion, more often appalled by its fundamentalist crusades. On my walks in the neighborhood, I'd passed the wood-shingled building with its sign: ST GREGORY OF NYSSA EPISCOPAL CHURCH. Now with no more than a reporter’s habitual curiosity—or so I thought—I opened the door. What happened a few minutes later is a mystery. I still can't explain my first Communion; it made no sense. I was in tears and physically unbalanced: I felt as if I had just stepped off a curb, or been knocked over, painlessly, from behind. The disconnect between what I thought was happening—I was eating a piece of bread; what I heard someone else say was happening—the piece of bread was the “body” of “Christ,” a patently untrue, or at best metaphorical statement; and what I knew was happening—God, named “Christ” or “Jesus,” was real, and in my mouth—utterly short-circuited my ability to do anything but cry. …why did Communion move me? Why did I feel as if I were being entered and taken over, completely stirred up by someone whose name I’d only spoken before as a casual expletive? I couldn’t reconcile the experience with anything I knew or had been told. But neither could I go away: for some inexplicable reason, I wanted that bread again. I wanted it all the next day after my first Communion, and the next week, and the next. It was a sensation as urgent as physical hunger, pulling me back to the table through my fear and confusion.

Sara Miles encountered the flaking, deteriorating paint of a centuries old image - uncovered and un-restored. Maybe this is what happens when we encounter mystery. Maybe this is where he awaits us. Maybe we find him, not so much in understanding but in touch, encounter, experience, presence.

Most relationships are rooted in mystery. When my wife asks me “do you love me?” I certainly answer “Yes”. But when she follows up with “why?” I have a hard time finding an answer. After 26 years it would seem that I could easily answer that question and yet – I cannot. If we are honest, in most of our relationships, it is much easier to find reasons not to love. If our love for our partners, our friends, our families could be justified through reason or understanding then love would cease to transcend reason. We would only love those who deserve our love. We would love no one… and no one would love us.

Love is mystery. It is transcendent. And it comes without explanation or an answer to “why?” It comes from presence, from connection. It comes whether we seek it or run from it.

What caused John to leap in his mother’s womb? What caused men who earned their living at sea to drop their nets and follow a young carpenter? What caused Saul to take a new name and to follow (and eventually lead) a cult he had been on his way to crush? What caused an atheist, left-wing activist to weep for love and to hunger for bread and wine that fed the soul as well as the body?

Understanding? Reason? A fresh coat of paint on a decaying image?

or - maybe - it was presence… divine presence. Maybe each of us carries within us a tiny combustible piece of His divinity – the fingerprint of our creator. And maybe when we are near Him – when He touches that divinity – it glows and it burns and it changes us. We do not always understand. We do not always need to understand. We see Him and He changes us. We touch Him and He remakes us. We come near him and we are born… again.

We come to the Eucharist table with high expectations or no expectation at all. We come with great faith, with doubt, or with no belief at all. We are invited to experience him - all of us - and no matter how we come, He is here.

"I was, as the prophet said, hungering and thirsting for righteousness. I found it at the eternal and material core of Christianity: body, blood, bread, wine, poured out freely, shared by all." ~ Sara Miles

May we find awe in His presence…

May we find wonder…

May He take our breath away whenever he is near…

His Kingdom Come…