Luke 9 is a study in contrasts. The chapter begins with the disciples being sent out; it ends with the great crowd being fed.
Jesus calls the twelve together and sends them to the villages to heal, to cast out demons. Upon their return, they report of all the amazing things that had happened as they spoke the Word of God. There is no explanation given, but it seems that as they return, so does a great crowd. The story tells us there were about five thousand persons. You know what happens next. There is the discussion about sending them away, and Jesus instructs the disciples to feed them. With a few loaves and fish as a start, the great crowd is fed.
Returning to my original sentence, this chapter is a contrast between going out and a great crowd gathering. What impressed me this morning was the mere presence of the crowd, this gathering of five thousand who are fed.
We will fed a crowd (or a group) this evening. Wouldn’t it be amazing if they numbered five thousand? Somewhat less than that, it remains an impressive gathering of persons. We pay close attention to how many come, continually asking ourselves if we are faithfully offering ministry in a way which meets the needs of our community. We hope they will come; we want them to come.
Luke 9 would remind us that they come, they gather, only after we have first gone out. That the work of Christ’s disciples begins with going to them, and then feeding them when they follow us back to the place where eat our meals. The call from Christ is not merely to gather them together; it starts with our reaching out. Luke 9 would suggest that when we reach out, they will follow us as we seek the place where we can once again be in the presence of our Lord.
PS: I begin my Fall Break a bit early, leaving this evening for a few days of vacation. The next day of classes at CU is Wednesday; I will write to you then.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Devotion - Tuesday, October 24
I am reading from the latter chapters of the Book of Acts. These chapters have always seemed a bit dry to me. They recount Paul’s appeal to civil authorities, his request that they hear his defense. I realize that part of the reason I have a ho-hum attitude toward these chapters is the greatly differing circumstances under which I live my life and practice my faith.
We do not worry that someone will haul us into court for being a Christian. We need not plan a defense against those who would silence our message.
In Acts 26-27 Paul pleads his case before Agrippa and Festus. They find no fault with his teaching. “This man could have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar.” they conclude. How important this pronouncement would be, in the years which follow. The day would come when Christians become a persecuted class, blamed for the civil unrest, and martyred for the entertainment of the masses. The pronouncements of Agrippa and Festus assured the faithful that when given a fair hearing, nothing can be found wrong with our message.
The message will be unwelcome, by many. In a conversation on Sunday, I responded to questions of why some will poke fun at those who devote their lives to Christ. Many will not welcome our story and accept out witness. But this does not mean that we are wrong, or that our message is harmful, or that we need to be silenced. Paul’s appearance before Agrippa and Festus settled that question.
These latter chapters of Acts have little to add with regard to information about Christ or insights to Paul’s theology. However, they have much to give when it comes to understanding why the message is sometimes opposed.
We do not worry that someone will haul us into court for being a Christian. We need not plan a defense against those who would silence our message.
In Acts 26-27 Paul pleads his case before Agrippa and Festus. They find no fault with his teaching. “This man could have been set free if he had not appealed to Caesar.” they conclude. How important this pronouncement would be, in the years which follow. The day would come when Christians become a persecuted class, blamed for the civil unrest, and martyred for the entertainment of the masses. The pronouncements of Agrippa and Festus assured the faithful that when given a fair hearing, nothing can be found wrong with our message.
The message will be unwelcome, by many. In a conversation on Sunday, I responded to questions of why some will poke fun at those who devote their lives to Christ. Many will not welcome our story and accept out witness. But this does not mean that we are wrong, or that our message is harmful, or that we need to be silenced. Paul’s appearance before Agrippa and Festus settled that question.
These latter chapters of Acts have little to add with regard to information about Christ or insights to Paul’s theology. However, they have much to give when it comes to understanding why the message is sometimes opposed.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Devotion - Monday, October 25
On the one hand, the story in Luke 8:26ff is easy to understand. Jesus encounters a man possessed by demons; Jesus drives the demons out of the man; the demons enter a herd of pigs; and the pigs drown themselves in the lake. Simple, right?
But there is so much to the story which I don’t understand.
First, how did Jesus’ contemporaries understand “demons”? The demons in this man have a conversation with Jesus. They have a name (Legion) and they participate in the decision as to their final fate. (They ask Jesus to send them into the herd of swine.) Modern-day Christians will occasionally speak of demon possession, but I am yet to hear of an encounter with rational, speaking demons.
Second, why do the demons ask to be given a new residence in the swine, only to drown themselves? I understand that the Jewish Christians of the first century maintained many of the Jewish food restrictions. They continued to avoid pork. The region where all this happens is on the border of the Jewish community so the destruction of the swine could been seen as instruction on what is and what is not considered acceptable among the followers of Jesus.
There is so much in this story which evades our understanding.
Some will respond to this reflection by asking, “What is there not to understand? The story tells us plainly what happened.” But the “Plain Sense” of scripture is a way of asking how the original hearers would have understood the story – not what do the words (or events) plainly reveal.
What this story said to its original hears might differ from what it says to us. The living Word of Scripture breaks forth with new life in each generation. But we should hear that new word with an understanding to what the old (first) understanding would have been. Thus, we prevent reading into the story so much of our current situation that we completely abandon what it is that Jesus intended to tell his listeners.
But there is so much to the story which I don’t understand.
First, how did Jesus’ contemporaries understand “demons”? The demons in this man have a conversation with Jesus. They have a name (Legion) and they participate in the decision as to their final fate. (They ask Jesus to send them into the herd of swine.) Modern-day Christians will occasionally speak of demon possession, but I am yet to hear of an encounter with rational, speaking demons.
Second, why do the demons ask to be given a new residence in the swine, only to drown themselves? I understand that the Jewish Christians of the first century maintained many of the Jewish food restrictions. They continued to avoid pork. The region where all this happens is on the border of the Jewish community so the destruction of the swine could been seen as instruction on what is and what is not considered acceptable among the followers of Jesus.
There is so much in this story which evades our understanding.
Some will respond to this reflection by asking, “What is there not to understand? The story tells us plainly what happened.” But the “Plain Sense” of scripture is a way of asking how the original hearers would have understood the story – not what do the words (or events) plainly reveal.
What this story said to its original hears might differ from what it says to us. The living Word of Scripture breaks forth with new life in each generation. But we should hear that new word with an understanding to what the old (first) understanding would have been. Thus, we prevent reading into the story so much of our current situation that we completely abandon what it is that Jesus intended to tell his listeners.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Sermon - October 24, 2010
22nd Sunday after Pentecost - Year C
Luke 18:9-14
Honest with Ourselves - Honest with God
Our Refrigerator is covered with photos and clippings – the sort of things you used to send one another by mail, before email spam became so popular. One of them is a clipping Laura’s mother sent us, not long after we were married. I am not sure whether its message was for me or Laura, but the message comes through loud and clear. The piece talks about all those little imperfections, possessed by one's spouse. After starting off on a humorous note, the writing shifts and begins to touch upon inadequacies which are less than endearing. The writer addresses those things which are significant, life altering faults.
But, just as you think the article is about to reach its conclusion, it shifts once again. This time the emphasis falls, not upon the imperfections possessed by one's mate, but upon one's own grievous faults. The writer concludes: “The best prescription for curing one's irritation at a partner's imperfections is every morning to look at the flaws in the face in the mirror and say, 'You're no bar¬gain, either.' You may soon realize that you're not a ten slumming with a six but more likely an evenly matched pair of sevens."
In today's gospel lesson, Jesus tells his parable about two men who go up to the temple. They are two VERY different individuals. One is a Pharisee, a man who thinks of himself as a "10" relative to religious practice. The other man is a tax collector. A despised individual, this man looks at no one. He becomes an object to the Pharisee, a thing to be used by the Pharisee in recounting his many and wonderful deeds. But Jesus' story also shifts. As it does so it places the emphasis upon an unexpected aspect of these two men. The one thinks highly of himself, too highly. He looks upon his fellow worshippers and regrets the fact that he must slum around with them. But, as Jesus points out, it is the one who takes the honest look in the mirror who leaves the temple justified.
The Pharisees were committed lay people. They took faith seriously, devoting long hours to study. Generally speaking, they were business class, merchants, white-collar workers. Fiercely dedicated to the temple, the Pharisees were the backbone of the synagogue, pillars of the community of faith. They were committed, sacrificial, and zealous in their obedience to God's Word. They were good people.
Tax collectors were different. Jesus’ reference is to someone who, while a Hebrew, was believed to have sold out to the occupy¬ing forces of Rome. Jewish tax collectors were essential to the Roman government. They became the inside eyes and ears who would identify and tax the local people. Without the assistance of such persons, the occupying authorities would never have been able to maintain order. But, in the eyes of many, the Tax collectors were seen as traders, as persons who had turned upon their families, friends and religious beliefs.
These were very different men, these two whom Jesus presents in his little parable.
Their differences run even deeper. By his own admission, the Pharisee is a model of the godly life. He's the kind of church member for whom every pastor prays. He tithes. 10% of his income he returns to God as a thank offering. And if that isn't enough, he fasts twice a week. How many of us fast once a week? Jesus sets up his parable by presenting a man who takes seriously his commitment to God, who disciplines himself and lives out all the things Moses instructed the Hebrews to do. He is no thief, rogue, or adulterer. He is the epitome of the godly life.
In all fairness, we don't know how the tax collector lives his life. Jesus omits any reference to his lifestyle, life choices, or adherence to the word of God. All we know of him is the Pharisee's inclusion of him in the list of "other people." Perhaps the Pharisee knew him, or he may have been referring to his "type". Never-the-less, the Pharisee includes him with thieves, rogues, and adulterers.
These are differing men, these two whom Jesus describes. They are like night and day. Of that Jesus leaves no doubt.
But, as important as the aforementioned differences are, they serve only as backdrop to the distinction which stands out in Jesus' mind. The difference which most marks these individuals is their prayers. The one offers a litany of his accomplishments. The other lifts a plea for forgiveness.
The tax collector probably did have more sins to confess. The tax collector's way of making a living was to overtax the people. He added a commission to the amount that Rome required. So long as he raised the sum expected by the occupying governor, he was free to tax as he saw fit. He did have sins to confess. But, in his telling, Jesus does not seem to be concerned with the amount of sin. His concern is one's attitude toward that sin. The Pharisee refuses to look into the mirror, to acknowledge that he is anything less than a perfect "10" in his religious life. It is the tax collector who understands his need for grace and pleads for God's forgiveness.
Some have claimed that it is humility which distinguishes these two churchgoers; that the tax collector is humble while the Pharisee is not. While humility may be the personality trait which lies behind their actions, humility is a difficult thing to suddenly obtain. We cannot simply "decide" to be humble. It occurs to me that while Jesus may have honored the one who is humble, his parable is in the end and instruction on the necessity of looking- honestly - at ourselves and realizing our imperfections. There is nothing wrong with the Pharisee’s actions or necessarily his pride in those actions. What is wrong is his dishonest portrayal of himself. He speaks as if he has no need for God. God cannot HELP him. God can only reward him. He is not honest with himself or with God.
Twice this week I have been in conversations which wound themselves around to the point of individual honesty. Those conversations arose as we talked about the people who come to church. It is my conviction that churchgoers are all tax collectors. That we are a collection of individuals who realize our imperfections and inadequacies. I believe we come because we know this is a place where we can be honest about our needs, where we can acknowledge our imperfections are begin to hope that our inadequacies might be dealt with. We know this, and so we come, honestly acknowledging that which separates us from the people we wish we were.
It is an honest look at ourselves that brings us to the altar and leads us to confess our sins. It is an honest consid¬eration of who we are that causes us to come together, drawing strength from those like ourselves - persons who also realize their need for God.
It doesn't really matter how much sin we have to confess. It is of no real consequence to examine ourselves as models of the godly life. What counts is honesty; honest with ourselves, honesty with our God, honesty about those who come to worship with us.
No less than anyone else, we have sinned. We stand here in need of God's forgiveness and grace. We leave justified because we have had the courage to look in the mirror and acknowledge our own imperfections.
Amen.
Luke 18:9-14
Honest with Ourselves - Honest with God
Our Refrigerator is covered with photos and clippings – the sort of things you used to send one another by mail, before email spam became so popular. One of them is a clipping Laura’s mother sent us, not long after we were married. I am not sure whether its message was for me or Laura, but the message comes through loud and clear. The piece talks about all those little imperfections, possessed by one's spouse. After starting off on a humorous note, the writing shifts and begins to touch upon inadequacies which are less than endearing. The writer addresses those things which are significant, life altering faults.
But, just as you think the article is about to reach its conclusion, it shifts once again. This time the emphasis falls, not upon the imperfections possessed by one's mate, but upon one's own grievous faults. The writer concludes: “The best prescription for curing one's irritation at a partner's imperfections is every morning to look at the flaws in the face in the mirror and say, 'You're no bar¬gain, either.' You may soon realize that you're not a ten slumming with a six but more likely an evenly matched pair of sevens."
In today's gospel lesson, Jesus tells his parable about two men who go up to the temple. They are two VERY different individuals. One is a Pharisee, a man who thinks of himself as a "10" relative to religious practice. The other man is a tax collector. A despised individual, this man looks at no one. He becomes an object to the Pharisee, a thing to be used by the Pharisee in recounting his many and wonderful deeds. But Jesus' story also shifts. As it does so it places the emphasis upon an unexpected aspect of these two men. The one thinks highly of himself, too highly. He looks upon his fellow worshippers and regrets the fact that he must slum around with them. But, as Jesus points out, it is the one who takes the honest look in the mirror who leaves the temple justified.
The Pharisees were committed lay people. They took faith seriously, devoting long hours to study. Generally speaking, they were business class, merchants, white-collar workers. Fiercely dedicated to the temple, the Pharisees were the backbone of the synagogue, pillars of the community of faith. They were committed, sacrificial, and zealous in their obedience to God's Word. They were good people.
Tax collectors were different. Jesus’ reference is to someone who, while a Hebrew, was believed to have sold out to the occupy¬ing forces of Rome. Jewish tax collectors were essential to the Roman government. They became the inside eyes and ears who would identify and tax the local people. Without the assistance of such persons, the occupying authorities would never have been able to maintain order. But, in the eyes of many, the Tax collectors were seen as traders, as persons who had turned upon their families, friends and religious beliefs.
These were very different men, these two whom Jesus presents in his little parable.
Their differences run even deeper. By his own admission, the Pharisee is a model of the godly life. He's the kind of church member for whom every pastor prays. He tithes. 10% of his income he returns to God as a thank offering. And if that isn't enough, he fasts twice a week. How many of us fast once a week? Jesus sets up his parable by presenting a man who takes seriously his commitment to God, who disciplines himself and lives out all the things Moses instructed the Hebrews to do. He is no thief, rogue, or adulterer. He is the epitome of the godly life.
In all fairness, we don't know how the tax collector lives his life. Jesus omits any reference to his lifestyle, life choices, or adherence to the word of God. All we know of him is the Pharisee's inclusion of him in the list of "other people." Perhaps the Pharisee knew him, or he may have been referring to his "type". Never-the-less, the Pharisee includes him with thieves, rogues, and adulterers.
These are differing men, these two whom Jesus describes. They are like night and day. Of that Jesus leaves no doubt.
But, as important as the aforementioned differences are, they serve only as backdrop to the distinction which stands out in Jesus' mind. The difference which most marks these individuals is their prayers. The one offers a litany of his accomplishments. The other lifts a plea for forgiveness.
The tax collector probably did have more sins to confess. The tax collector's way of making a living was to overtax the people. He added a commission to the amount that Rome required. So long as he raised the sum expected by the occupying governor, he was free to tax as he saw fit. He did have sins to confess. But, in his telling, Jesus does not seem to be concerned with the amount of sin. His concern is one's attitude toward that sin. The Pharisee refuses to look into the mirror, to acknowledge that he is anything less than a perfect "10" in his religious life. It is the tax collector who understands his need for grace and pleads for God's forgiveness.
Some have claimed that it is humility which distinguishes these two churchgoers; that the tax collector is humble while the Pharisee is not. While humility may be the personality trait which lies behind their actions, humility is a difficult thing to suddenly obtain. We cannot simply "decide" to be humble. It occurs to me that while Jesus may have honored the one who is humble, his parable is in the end and instruction on the necessity of looking- honestly - at ourselves and realizing our imperfections. There is nothing wrong with the Pharisee’s actions or necessarily his pride in those actions. What is wrong is his dishonest portrayal of himself. He speaks as if he has no need for God. God cannot HELP him. God can only reward him. He is not honest with himself or with God.
Twice this week I have been in conversations which wound themselves around to the point of individual honesty. Those conversations arose as we talked about the people who come to church. It is my conviction that churchgoers are all tax collectors. That we are a collection of individuals who realize our imperfections and inadequacies. I believe we come because we know this is a place where we can be honest about our needs, where we can acknowledge our imperfections are begin to hope that our inadequacies might be dealt with. We know this, and so we come, honestly acknowledging that which separates us from the people we wish we were.
It is an honest look at ourselves that brings us to the altar and leads us to confess our sins. It is an honest consid¬eration of who we are that causes us to come together, drawing strength from those like ourselves - persons who also realize their need for God.
It doesn't really matter how much sin we have to confess. It is of no real consequence to examine ourselves as models of the godly life. What counts is honesty; honest with ourselves, honesty with our God, honesty about those who come to worship with us.
No less than anyone else, we have sinned. We stand here in need of God's forgiveness and grace. We leave justified because we have had the courage to look in the mirror and acknowledge our own imperfections.
Amen.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Devotion - Thursday, October 21
Luke 7:36-50 retells the story of the woman of the city who follows Jesus into the home of a Pharisee. She positions herself behind Jesus, washing her feet with her tears. When the self-righteous Pharisee sees this, he is appalled. “How can Jesus allow this woman to touch him?” he asks. Jesus then tells a parable of two debtors – one owes five hundred, the other fifty. “When both are forgiven their debt, which one is more appreciative?” Jesus asks.
I am typically not one to encourage the recounting of transgression. Planted firmly in the assurance of a forgiving and gracious God, I would rather speak of how one lives out the life Christ makes possible for us. Typically, this is the message repeated in sermons and in these early morning offerings. In reading Luke 7, I am reminded that unless we take a good, honest look at ourselves, we might fail to realize what God has done for us.
This Sunday’s gospel lesson involves a self-righteous person and another who is humble of heart. This humility is praised by Jesus. The humble one is assured of a continued right relationship with God.
We do not dwell on our sin, bringing ourselves down to the depths of despair. But we do acknowledge our shortcomings, we identify our sin, so that we might remain forever grateful to the one who has forgiven us. We are forgiven of many debts. We therefore have much appreciation to show.
I am typically not one to encourage the recounting of transgression. Planted firmly in the assurance of a forgiving and gracious God, I would rather speak of how one lives out the life Christ makes possible for us. Typically, this is the message repeated in sermons and in these early morning offerings. In reading Luke 7, I am reminded that unless we take a good, honest look at ourselves, we might fail to realize what God has done for us.
This Sunday’s gospel lesson involves a self-righteous person and another who is humble of heart. This humility is praised by Jesus. The humble one is assured of a continued right relationship with God.
We do not dwell on our sin, bringing ourselves down to the depths of despair. But we do acknowledge our shortcomings, we identify our sin, so that we might remain forever grateful to the one who has forgiven us. We are forgiven of many debts. We therefore have much appreciation to show.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Devotion - Wednesday, October 20
Making decisions is tough. Sometimes paralyzing. In a sermon broadcast on ABC Radio in 1948, F. Eppling Reinartz identified the resources available to a Christian as we make tough decisions.
First, we are paralyzed, no matter how grave the decision. We understand that our decision will not have that great an impact on the world, or even on our own lives. God’s grace, and the gift of salvation have made the change in our lives to which everything else is window dressing.
He writes, “Christians don’t find it easier to make vital decisions that do others. Oh no! But our religion does give us insight and guidance which help us when, lacking them, we would find our thinking at a dead end.”
As persons of faith, we turn to God to assist us in our thinking. We turn to God in prayer. This has the effect of centering ourselves and our lives. The act of turning to God in prayer reminds us of that which is ultimately important. It clears the center track of our thinking so that God might travel through. Having reestablished our priorities, decisions come to us and take effect in our lives.
“When a Christian, facing a decision, says, ‘I’ll sleep over it,’ he means, ‘I’ll surrender this all quietly to God through the night.’” - You may be sure that whether that surrender is made while waking or sleeping, it gets results. “Rest in the Lord. Wait patiently for Him, and He will give Thee (to know) thy heart’s desire.”
First, we are paralyzed, no matter how grave the decision. We understand that our decision will not have that great an impact on the world, or even on our own lives. God’s grace, and the gift of salvation have made the change in our lives to which everything else is window dressing.
He writes, “Christians don’t find it easier to make vital decisions that do others. Oh no! But our religion does give us insight and guidance which help us when, lacking them, we would find our thinking at a dead end.”
As persons of faith, we turn to God to assist us in our thinking. We turn to God in prayer. This has the effect of centering ourselves and our lives. The act of turning to God in prayer reminds us of that which is ultimately important. It clears the center track of our thinking so that God might travel through. Having reestablished our priorities, decisions come to us and take effect in our lives.
“When a Christian, facing a decision, says, ‘I’ll sleep over it,’ he means, ‘I’ll surrender this all quietly to God through the night.’” - You may be sure that whether that surrender is made while waking or sleeping, it gets results. “Rest in the Lord. Wait patiently for Him, and He will give Thee (to know) thy heart’s desire.”
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Devotion - Tuesday, Octobe 19
In Acts 23:12-24 we read of one of the plots to kill Paul. There are several such stories, in the Book of Acts. Paul was persecuted in much the same way as Jesus; those who wished to silence his message wanted him dead.
In Acts 23, it is a group of forty men to take a vow that they will “taste no food” till they have killed him. They share their intentions with the religious leaders. They ask these leaders to send to the tribune a request to bring him back before the Council, under the pretense of asking him more questions about this new teaching. When the tribune hears of the plot, he appoints two hundred soldiers and seventy horsemen and two hundred spearmen to give Paul safe passage. It is the civil authority who protects Paul from the intentions of the religious community.
We know that it does not always operate that way. But in this case, it is the non-religious who do the right thing. I am not merely referring to protecting the message of Christ – I mean that they preserve life and ward off deceit. The tribune was able to see the wrong of what was being planned by those blinded by religious zeal.
I love Jesus as much as anyone. I am guided by his words and I am directed by his teachings. But I pray that my zeal would never overtake my awareness of what is right and what is wrong. I will not accept, for a moment, that it is acceptable to God for my devotion to His Son to lead to my setting aside the foundational teachings of justice and mercy. The message proclaimed by my Lord will withstand any challenge – I don’t need to defend it by silencing those who would preach a different message.
Too many in our world are blinded by religious zeal. This is true of every religious community – ours as well as that of other traditions. Let us take an oath, not to destroy the messengers with whom we disagree, but to listen to their story and to seek ways to bring their story under the umbrella of the Truths witnessed to by our Lord. May our oath be to defend our neighbor’s actions in the kindest of ways, and to assist them in all of their bodily needs.
In Acts 23, it is a group of forty men to take a vow that they will “taste no food” till they have killed him. They share their intentions with the religious leaders. They ask these leaders to send to the tribune a request to bring him back before the Council, under the pretense of asking him more questions about this new teaching. When the tribune hears of the plot, he appoints two hundred soldiers and seventy horsemen and two hundred spearmen to give Paul safe passage. It is the civil authority who protects Paul from the intentions of the religious community.
We know that it does not always operate that way. But in this case, it is the non-religious who do the right thing. I am not merely referring to protecting the message of Christ – I mean that they preserve life and ward off deceit. The tribune was able to see the wrong of what was being planned by those blinded by religious zeal.
I love Jesus as much as anyone. I am guided by his words and I am directed by his teachings. But I pray that my zeal would never overtake my awareness of what is right and what is wrong. I will not accept, for a moment, that it is acceptable to God for my devotion to His Son to lead to my setting aside the foundational teachings of justice and mercy. The message proclaimed by my Lord will withstand any challenge – I don’t need to defend it by silencing those who would preach a different message.
Too many in our world are blinded by religious zeal. This is true of every religious community – ours as well as that of other traditions. Let us take an oath, not to destroy the messengers with whom we disagree, but to listen to their story and to seek ways to bring their story under the umbrella of the Truths witnessed to by our Lord. May our oath be to defend our neighbor’s actions in the kindest of ways, and to assist them in all of their bodily needs.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Devotion - Monday, October 18
Luke 6 contains Jesus’ observation that we quickly see the error in the lives of another, while ignoring our own failings. He says, “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?”
There are a number of reasons “Why.” One reason is our belief that the errors committed by us are not as serious. “My gossip is rooted in fact!” Another reason involves a hierarchy of transgression. The thing I do to break the law is not as bad a sin as that committed by another. We might tell ourselves that our confession will absolve us of the transgression; that once the wrong we have committed rises to awareness we will turn to God and repent. Of course, all the while assuming that the other person commits their transgression out of willful intent to inflict injury.
Jesus instructs those identified in this teaching to “First remove the log from you own eye, and they you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.”
Recognizing, admitting, and dealing with the log is our first step.
Few things are as difficult as this. Few things are as important.
When another helps us to identify the places in our lives where things are out of sync, they are not only helping us correct present wrongs, they are aid us in our hope to avoid future transgressions. Exposing a short-sighted comment or act reduces the likelihood that we will repeat the error. They truly are “helping” us when they point out to us that we have this timber obstructing our view.
Let us be quick to see the log; slow to over-exaggerate the size of the speck. And, when another comes to our aid, identifying for us the wrong in our life, let us be thankful for their aid.
There are a number of reasons “Why.” One reason is our belief that the errors committed by us are not as serious. “My gossip is rooted in fact!” Another reason involves a hierarchy of transgression. The thing I do to break the law is not as bad a sin as that committed by another. We might tell ourselves that our confession will absolve us of the transgression; that once the wrong we have committed rises to awareness we will turn to God and repent. Of course, all the while assuming that the other person commits their transgression out of willful intent to inflict injury.
Jesus instructs those identified in this teaching to “First remove the log from you own eye, and they you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.”
Recognizing, admitting, and dealing with the log is our first step.
Few things are as difficult as this. Few things are as important.
When another helps us to identify the places in our lives where things are out of sync, they are not only helping us correct present wrongs, they are aid us in our hope to avoid future transgressions. Exposing a short-sighted comment or act reduces the likelihood that we will repeat the error. They truly are “helping” us when they point out to us that we have this timber obstructing our view.
Let us be quick to see the log; slow to over-exaggerate the size of the speck. And, when another comes to our aid, identifying for us the wrong in our life, let us be thankful for their aid.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Devotion - Wednesday, October 13
The opening line from this morning’s prayer caught my attention: “O God, whose almighty power is made known chiefly in showing mercy and pity…” It identifies for us what God’s power is like; it instructs us as to how we ought to exercise power in our world.
So often, power is used to dominate others. The “powerful” are those who have the ability to crush others. God’s power is of a differing type. God is powerful enough that no shows of strength are necessary.
Every day we are bombarded with political campaign ads. I hate joining an all too popular chorus which decries negative campaigning. (They do it because it works – we fall for it.) Such ads seek to portray as powerful the one who has the ability to “expose the misdeeds” of another. It is a use of power to crush the opponent’s message, their self-presentation. A truly powerful politician is one who uses their energy to serve the common good; to enable positive change for the citizens.
There is a lot of talk about the Clemson football team. “I like Dabo, but why can’t he win games?” I like Dabo, too. And I think he is a good man. I have come to believe that he understands the power he has in the lives of the players. And, whether he wins games or not, it seems to me that he is using his power to improve the lives of players.
“O God, whose almighty power is made known chiefly in showing mercy and pity….” Perhaps only “almighty” power can be shown in this way. Regular old everyday power will forever slip toward abuse and manipulation. Maybe, but I hope not; I pray not. And I invite you to join me in labeling abusive actions as something other than power. God has shown us was power really is, and it is never used to put someone down or harm them.
So often, power is used to dominate others. The “powerful” are those who have the ability to crush others. God’s power is of a differing type. God is powerful enough that no shows of strength are necessary.
Every day we are bombarded with political campaign ads. I hate joining an all too popular chorus which decries negative campaigning. (They do it because it works – we fall for it.) Such ads seek to portray as powerful the one who has the ability to “expose the misdeeds” of another. It is a use of power to crush the opponent’s message, their self-presentation. A truly powerful politician is one who uses their energy to serve the common good; to enable positive change for the citizens.
There is a lot of talk about the Clemson football team. “I like Dabo, but why can’t he win games?” I like Dabo, too. And I think he is a good man. I have come to believe that he understands the power he has in the lives of the players. And, whether he wins games or not, it seems to me that he is using his power to improve the lives of players.
“O God, whose almighty power is made known chiefly in showing mercy and pity….” Perhaps only “almighty” power can be shown in this way. Regular old everyday power will forever slip toward abuse and manipulation. Maybe, but I hope not; I pray not. And I invite you to join me in labeling abusive actions as something other than power. God has shown us was power really is, and it is never used to put someone down or harm them.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Devotion - Tuesday, October 12
These words from Virginia Stem Owens were powerful to me. I share them with you.
“We are not so familiar with freaks as Jesus was. He daily handled as bad or worse that what I see weekly in the hospital. People coming to him for healing were maimed, mutilated, and desperate. They didn’t even have on clean pajamas. It is we who have isolated ourselves from the Incarnation. Our fear of the flesh is so deep that we institutionalize death and decay wherever it breaks out. There would be little chance of Jesus meeting a leper on the road today. Any kind of freakishness, whether physical, mental, or emotional, must be put away from our midst. People on public view must be at least superficially healthy. The lame, the halt, the blind may not have had Medicare in the first century, but neither were they incarcerated for their offense against the sensibilities of the whole…
“I used the word “saliva” in a church group the other night. People shifted their eyes uneasily. Yet it was spittle that Jesus used for a poultice on the blind man’s eyes. Saliva and mud. Somehow we’ve gotten the idea salvation eliminates the efficacy of saliva.
“I have a notion that our flight from flesh will end in more and more mechanical parts for the human body. It is the cleanliness of nylon and silicone we seem to desire, not sweat and saliva…
“Will not the shinning substitutes of plastic parts begin to dampen our ardor for the Incarnation and dull our sense of the profundity of our Lord’s bodily death and resurrection? Are we not already a little secretly ashamed of the stripes that heal us, wishing instead for an unscathed savior, Jesus Superjock, borne aloft by teams of angels unwilling to let him stub his well-shod toe? The offense of the Cross began with the offense of the Incarnation. The bloody public death is foreshadowed by a bloody stable birth. Perhaps it is not in disease and disfigurement that we reach the limits of the image of God. Disease can be healed and disfigurement restored. But would the image fade with each cloned replica of the perfect physique equipped with replaceable parts?”
“We are not so familiar with freaks as Jesus was. He daily handled as bad or worse that what I see weekly in the hospital. People coming to him for healing were maimed, mutilated, and desperate. They didn’t even have on clean pajamas. It is we who have isolated ourselves from the Incarnation. Our fear of the flesh is so deep that we institutionalize death and decay wherever it breaks out. There would be little chance of Jesus meeting a leper on the road today. Any kind of freakishness, whether physical, mental, or emotional, must be put away from our midst. People on public view must be at least superficially healthy. The lame, the halt, the blind may not have had Medicare in the first century, but neither were they incarcerated for their offense against the sensibilities of the whole…
“I used the word “saliva” in a church group the other night. People shifted their eyes uneasily. Yet it was spittle that Jesus used for a poultice on the blind man’s eyes. Saliva and mud. Somehow we’ve gotten the idea salvation eliminates the efficacy of saliva.
“I have a notion that our flight from flesh will end in more and more mechanical parts for the human body. It is the cleanliness of nylon and silicone we seem to desire, not sweat and saliva…
“Will not the shinning substitutes of plastic parts begin to dampen our ardor for the Incarnation and dull our sense of the profundity of our Lord’s bodily death and resurrection? Are we not already a little secretly ashamed of the stripes that heal us, wishing instead for an unscathed savior, Jesus Superjock, borne aloft by teams of angels unwilling to let him stub his well-shod toe? The offense of the Cross began with the offense of the Incarnation. The bloody public death is foreshadowed by a bloody stable birth. Perhaps it is not in disease and disfigurement that we reach the limits of the image of God. Disease can be healed and disfigurement restored. But would the image fade with each cloned replica of the perfect physique equipped with replaceable parts?”
Monday, October 11, 2010
Devotion - Monday, October 11
The cycle of readings has moved from Job to Hosea. This is another book of the Bible which is all too often skimmed over, without much thought.
Hosea’s life becomes a metaphor for the relationship between God and Israel. He takes a wife (Gomer), who forsakes him for others. In today’s section (Chapter 2:2-15) Hosea begs the children, born to his wife, to remind her that all she possess came from Hosea, not those with whom she has played the harlot.
It is easy to fall into the same trap a Gomer. It is easy to see that which is in our field of vision, rather than the thing which lies behind or supports from underneath.
I realized this morning my own tendency to credit teachers with great insights, neglecting that the Truths which they passed on originated in God.
Looking beyond that which is immediately before us is tough. It is difficult in a world of instant gratification and attention seeking behaviors. Few have the discipline to examine our lives and reflect on the source of our fortune. Such reflection is called prayer – the kind of prayer where we do some of the talking, but leave time for God to speak back to us.
Gomer was so caught up in the events and excitement of her world that she neglected to understand the true source of her security. As a result, this was placed in peril. Hosea (who takes on the metaphorical role of God) remains faithful to her; seeks her out, and works to reclaim her. The events of their life are painful to read, but comforting to know that even when we don’t turn to God, God continues to come to us.
Hosea’s life becomes a metaphor for the relationship between God and Israel. He takes a wife (Gomer), who forsakes him for others. In today’s section (Chapter 2:2-15) Hosea begs the children, born to his wife, to remind her that all she possess came from Hosea, not those with whom she has played the harlot.
It is easy to fall into the same trap a Gomer. It is easy to see that which is in our field of vision, rather than the thing which lies behind or supports from underneath.
I realized this morning my own tendency to credit teachers with great insights, neglecting that the Truths which they passed on originated in God.
Looking beyond that which is immediately before us is tough. It is difficult in a world of instant gratification and attention seeking behaviors. Few have the discipline to examine our lives and reflect on the source of our fortune. Such reflection is called prayer – the kind of prayer where we do some of the talking, but leave time for God to speak back to us.
Gomer was so caught up in the events and excitement of her world that she neglected to understand the true source of her security. As a result, this was placed in peril. Hosea (who takes on the metaphorical role of God) remains faithful to her; seeks her out, and works to reclaim her. The events of their life are painful to read, but comforting to know that even when we don’t turn to God, God continues to come to us.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sermon - October 10, 2010
Pentecost 20 – Year C
Luke 17:11-19
The Gift or the Giver
When I was in college, and involved in campus ministry, there was a book which became popular among us. It is a book by Martin Bell, titled The Way of the Wolf. You can imagine my surprise, about four years ago, when one of the students (Gavin Richards) bought a copy at a used book sale, brought it on one of our trips, and started reading chapters to the students. It brought back memories.
One of the chapters in Bell’s book retells the events related in today’s Gospel lesson. He gives this chapter the name, “Where are the nine?” He repeats Jesus’ question, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?” Bell then goes on to explore where the nine might have gone. His exploration is not a condemnation. He does not find fault with them; he explains their actions in the kindest of ways. The nine did as they were told – they continued on their way to show themselves to the priest.
But there is this one who does return. The story tells us that he was a Samaritan, a non-Jew. And we cannot overlook Jesus’ final words in this exchange. It serves as a bookend to the stories we read last Sunday – the story of faith the size of mustard seed. It is this little bit of faith, active in the life of this Samaritan, which overcomes his leprosy. This faith, this seemingly small think tucked away inside us, makes it possible for us to respond appropriately to marvelous gifts of a gracious and merciful God.
The story begins by noting that Jesus is passing between the regions of Samaria and Galilee. At the gate of a particular village he is greeted by 10 lepers. Leprosy was a dreaded and greatly misunderstood disease. Most forms of leprosy are neurological, thus non-communicable. But in Jesus' age they didn't understand this. All they knew were the hideous and painful effects. No one wanted to do anything that might put them at risk of catching the disease. A leper could not visit public places, they could not enter the temple. They were removed from their families, living in colonies on the outskirts of town. If they did encounter others on the road, they were to yell out "Unclean" so others could avoid them.
10 individuals, afflicted with this disease, greet Jesus as he is about to enter the village. But they do not lift up their voices shouting “Unclean.” Instead they begin to shout, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." They seem to know who Jesus is. They must have heard stories of other healings he had performed. They call him "Master". They realize his ability to heal. This is so evident that they even find it unnecessary to ask for healing. All they say to him is "Have mercy upon us.” Surely, if he is a prophet of God, he would have mercy upon those so cruelly afflicted.
The ten lepers know who Jesus is; they know his ability to heal. There is an element of faith, be it as small as a mustard seed, which causes them to turn to him for help. Further evidence of their trust in Jesus is the fact that they do as Jesus asks. Let me repeat that - Further evidence of their trust in Jesus is the fact that they do as Jesus asks. What Jesus asks them to do – what Jesus instructs them to do – is show themselves to the Priest. Jesus doesn't snap his fingers and say, “Be cleansed!” He tells them to "Go and show yourselves to the priests." If, immediately upon hearing Jesus' voice, the 10 had looked at their sores, they may have still been there. It is only after they have begun to do as Jesus asks that the healing occurs. They rush on their way, trusting that whatever Jesus asks of them they must do.
The gospel writer presents what happens next as if there really were only one choice: Of course you would return to the one who had made this healing possible. But think about it for a moment. They are not going to the priests because they thought it would be a good idea. They are going because Jesus told them to go. Perhaps all of them thought of returning to give Jesus thanks. The nine simply decided to do as Jesus instructed.
The lepers had come to Jesus asking for mercy. He responded by making them clean. We have already explored the fact that they believed in Jesus, otherwise they would not have come to him and followed his instruction. Why then, are the nine criticized? What have they done wrong? They are doing exactly as Jesus instructed.
What if they had turned back? Might it be possible, that he, who told them to go to the priests, could have been angered by their disobedience? Their refusal to do as he asked may have been sufficient provocation for him to have reversed their healing. To return might have jeopardized the gift of mercy just bestowed upon them.
With this in mind, why would anyone return? What possible reason would anyone have for reversing their path and going to look for the one who had provided this wonderful gift?
The only possible reason for returning would be if we found the gift less important than the giver of the gift. Only someone who is willing to risk the gift for the pleasure of offering praise to the giver would have returned.
Faith has many twists and turns, but none is more confusing than this one. How could it be that the Samaritan would risk what he had just received in order to return to Jesus? How could the other nine not return, considering how close they had come to God's own Messiah?
The Greek word used in the last phrase and translated for us as “made you well” has a double meaning. In normal usage, the word would ordinarily be rendered "save". The Samaritan realizes that he has indeed been made well. That is good, but he also realizes has encountered the one who can truly "save" him. The other nine had faith that Jesus could heal them. They exploited him for this gift. Perhaps they had no desire for anything more. They do not return to him because they had already gotten from him all that they wanted.
So many people come to the Church because they need to be healed. They need to be cleansed of their fear of death, of their feelings of isolation. That's great. That is why the church is here - to provide the gifts which God so freely bestows upon those who have faith. Glad to be of service. But the heart of the story we tell has little to do with what we get out of all of this. At the core of our confessions is an invitation to devote our lives to the praise of the One who stands ready to give us these gifts. The aim of a Christian is not to get to heaven; the aim of a Christian is to praise Christ.
In the story, all 10 are cleansed. All those who cry out to Jesus are made well. But only one realizes that the gift, as great as it may be, is nothing in comparison to the giver of the gift. He does not revel in the gift; he does not lift it up high so others can see what he has acquired; forgetting the gift, he turns to the giver, and gives thanks.
AMEN.
Luke 17:11-19
The Gift or the Giver
When I was in college, and involved in campus ministry, there was a book which became popular among us. It is a book by Martin Bell, titled The Way of the Wolf. You can imagine my surprise, about four years ago, when one of the students (Gavin Richards) bought a copy at a used book sale, brought it on one of our trips, and started reading chapters to the students. It brought back memories.
One of the chapters in Bell’s book retells the events related in today’s Gospel lesson. He gives this chapter the name, “Where are the nine?” He repeats Jesus’ question, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they?” Bell then goes on to explore where the nine might have gone. His exploration is not a condemnation. He does not find fault with them; he explains their actions in the kindest of ways. The nine did as they were told – they continued on their way to show themselves to the priest.
But there is this one who does return. The story tells us that he was a Samaritan, a non-Jew. And we cannot overlook Jesus’ final words in this exchange. It serves as a bookend to the stories we read last Sunday – the story of faith the size of mustard seed. It is this little bit of faith, active in the life of this Samaritan, which overcomes his leprosy. This faith, this seemingly small think tucked away inside us, makes it possible for us to respond appropriately to marvelous gifts of a gracious and merciful God.
The story begins by noting that Jesus is passing between the regions of Samaria and Galilee. At the gate of a particular village he is greeted by 10 lepers. Leprosy was a dreaded and greatly misunderstood disease. Most forms of leprosy are neurological, thus non-communicable. But in Jesus' age they didn't understand this. All they knew were the hideous and painful effects. No one wanted to do anything that might put them at risk of catching the disease. A leper could not visit public places, they could not enter the temple. They were removed from their families, living in colonies on the outskirts of town. If they did encounter others on the road, they were to yell out "Unclean" so others could avoid them.
10 individuals, afflicted with this disease, greet Jesus as he is about to enter the village. But they do not lift up their voices shouting “Unclean.” Instead they begin to shout, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us." They seem to know who Jesus is. They must have heard stories of other healings he had performed. They call him "Master". They realize his ability to heal. This is so evident that they even find it unnecessary to ask for healing. All they say to him is "Have mercy upon us.” Surely, if he is a prophet of God, he would have mercy upon those so cruelly afflicted.
The ten lepers know who Jesus is; they know his ability to heal. There is an element of faith, be it as small as a mustard seed, which causes them to turn to him for help. Further evidence of their trust in Jesus is the fact that they do as Jesus asks. Let me repeat that - Further evidence of their trust in Jesus is the fact that they do as Jesus asks. What Jesus asks them to do – what Jesus instructs them to do – is show themselves to the Priest. Jesus doesn't snap his fingers and say, “Be cleansed!” He tells them to "Go and show yourselves to the priests." If, immediately upon hearing Jesus' voice, the 10 had looked at their sores, they may have still been there. It is only after they have begun to do as Jesus asks that the healing occurs. They rush on their way, trusting that whatever Jesus asks of them they must do.
The gospel writer presents what happens next as if there really were only one choice: Of course you would return to the one who had made this healing possible. But think about it for a moment. They are not going to the priests because they thought it would be a good idea. They are going because Jesus told them to go. Perhaps all of them thought of returning to give Jesus thanks. The nine simply decided to do as Jesus instructed.
The lepers had come to Jesus asking for mercy. He responded by making them clean. We have already explored the fact that they believed in Jesus, otherwise they would not have come to him and followed his instruction. Why then, are the nine criticized? What have they done wrong? They are doing exactly as Jesus instructed.
What if they had turned back? Might it be possible, that he, who told them to go to the priests, could have been angered by their disobedience? Their refusal to do as he asked may have been sufficient provocation for him to have reversed their healing. To return might have jeopardized the gift of mercy just bestowed upon them.
With this in mind, why would anyone return? What possible reason would anyone have for reversing their path and going to look for the one who had provided this wonderful gift?
The only possible reason for returning would be if we found the gift less important than the giver of the gift. Only someone who is willing to risk the gift for the pleasure of offering praise to the giver would have returned.
Faith has many twists and turns, but none is more confusing than this one. How could it be that the Samaritan would risk what he had just received in order to return to Jesus? How could the other nine not return, considering how close they had come to God's own Messiah?
The Greek word used in the last phrase and translated for us as “made you well” has a double meaning. In normal usage, the word would ordinarily be rendered "save". The Samaritan realizes that he has indeed been made well. That is good, but he also realizes has encountered the one who can truly "save" him. The other nine had faith that Jesus could heal them. They exploited him for this gift. Perhaps they had no desire for anything more. They do not return to him because they had already gotten from him all that they wanted.
So many people come to the Church because they need to be healed. They need to be cleansed of their fear of death, of their feelings of isolation. That's great. That is why the church is here - to provide the gifts which God so freely bestows upon those who have faith. Glad to be of service. But the heart of the story we tell has little to do with what we get out of all of this. At the core of our confessions is an invitation to devote our lives to the praise of the One who stands ready to give us these gifts. The aim of a Christian is not to get to heaven; the aim of a Christian is to praise Christ.
In the story, all 10 are cleansed. All those who cry out to Jesus are made well. But only one realizes that the gift, as great as it may be, is nothing in comparison to the giver of the gift. He does not revel in the gift; he does not lift it up high so others can see what he has acquired; forgetting the gift, he turns to the giver, and gives thanks.
AMEN.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Devotion - Thursday, October 7
“You only get one chance to make a first impression.” I imagine you have heard this at least once in your life. Last year, a retired personnel manager offered advice to our graduating seniors, about start looking for jobs. He said, “Perfect your 15 second, self-introduction. Choose your words carefully.”
In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus’ first public proclamation is in Nazareth. He goes to the synagogue, and when he has the opportunity to speak he asks for the Book of Isaiah. He unrolls the scroll and these are the words that he reads: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.” When he finishes reading, Mark tells us that his next words are these: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
This was Jesus’ 15 second self-introduction; these verses set a first impression. We, his followers, ought to commit them to memory and look for opportunities to actualize their imperatives.
Just as Christian faith comes to us in community; it activates us into our community. The faith of Jesus is a faith is a faith which brings changes in our hearts, but also in our world. It is too little a thing that the Word of God would impact our attitudes alone. Surely it will change the way we live.
The poor, the blind, those who are oppressed – these are those whom Jesus lifts up in his inaugural sermon. As his followers, we lift them up, too.
In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus’ first public proclamation is in Nazareth. He goes to the synagogue, and when he has the opportunity to speak he asks for the Book of Isaiah. He unrolls the scroll and these are the words that he reads: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.” When he finishes reading, Mark tells us that his next words are these: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
This was Jesus’ 15 second self-introduction; these verses set a first impression. We, his followers, ought to commit them to memory and look for opportunities to actualize their imperatives.
Just as Christian faith comes to us in community; it activates us into our community. The faith of Jesus is a faith is a faith which brings changes in our hearts, but also in our world. It is too little a thing that the Word of God would impact our attitudes alone. Surely it will change the way we live.
The poor, the blind, those who are oppressed – these are those whom Jesus lifts up in his inaugural sermon. As his followers, we lift them up, too.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Devotion - Wednesday, October 6
This morning’s Gospel lesson is from Luke 4 – the temptation of Jesus. With the aid of Evelyn Underhill, English novelist and poet, I found a connection in these verses with a point made at our pre-seminary discussion group.
Many authors have attempted to bring the temptations of Jesus down from their lofty descriptions and show how they are repeated in our lives. We are infrequently taken to the pinnacle of the Temple or shown all the Kingdoms of the world. But we are tempted, often tempted, with the temptations of Christ.
There are “those who think first of their own spiritual hunger, and the imperative duty of feeding their own souls; those for whom the spiritual life means spiritual privilege – who defy common sense, take foolish risks, and call the proceedings ‘trust in God’…. The New Testament contains no single instance in which our Lord sought or obtained a private spiritual advantage.”
The highly privatized spiritual life lived out by so many in our culture needs to be considered against the backdrop of the events recorded in Luke 4. These verses ought to aid us in avoiding the temptation of looking upon our Christian calling as some sort of spiritual advantage or advance placement. The call to discipleship is a call to serve others, to share our bread with others, to devote our days to glorifying God.
Contemporary culture looks to see how a gift might set us apart from those around us. The way of Christ encourages us to consider how we might more completely lose our self-centeredness.
Many authors have attempted to bring the temptations of Jesus down from their lofty descriptions and show how they are repeated in our lives. We are infrequently taken to the pinnacle of the Temple or shown all the Kingdoms of the world. But we are tempted, often tempted, with the temptations of Christ.
There are “those who think first of their own spiritual hunger, and the imperative duty of feeding their own souls; those for whom the spiritual life means spiritual privilege – who defy common sense, take foolish risks, and call the proceedings ‘trust in God’…. The New Testament contains no single instance in which our Lord sought or obtained a private spiritual advantage.”
The highly privatized spiritual life lived out by so many in our culture needs to be considered against the backdrop of the events recorded in Luke 4. These verses ought to aid us in avoiding the temptation of looking upon our Christian calling as some sort of spiritual advantage or advance placement. The call to discipleship is a call to serve others, to share our bread with others, to devote our days to glorifying God.
Contemporary culture looks to see how a gift might set us apart from those around us. The way of Christ encourages us to consider how we might more completely lose our self-centeredness.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Devotion - Tuesday, October 5
This morning I was reading from the Book of Acts the accounts involving Apollos. In Acts 18 we learn of this man, who comes to Ephesus. He is a powerful speaker and able to refute those who opposed the message of Jesus. In I Corinthians, Paul speaks of Apollos, and the ways in which the two of them serve the Church. Paul acknowledges that their roles differ. Paul plants; Apollos waters. Paul lays the foundation; Apollos builds upon it.
Too infrequently, we give thought to those who have played various roles in our faith development. Typically, we latch onto one mentor or guide and attribute to them all the positive movement in our understanding and service. In reality, no one can build unless there is a foundation; no one can encourage growth were no seeds have been planted.
The additional advantage to remembering the various influences in our lives is the ability to see differences (sometimes subtle, sometimes profound) in those who have aided us. Paul and Apollos had their differences. Why would we expect there to be none between our models of faith? Recognizing and naming these differences allows us to see our own understanding being cobbled together out of various thoughts and beliefs.
Too infrequently, we give thought to those who have played various roles in our faith development. Typically, we latch onto one mentor or guide and attribute to them all the positive movement in our understanding and service. In reality, no one can build unless there is a foundation; no one can encourage growth were no seeds have been planted.
The additional advantage to remembering the various influences in our lives is the ability to see differences (sometimes subtle, sometimes profound) in those who have aided us. Paul and Apollos had their differences. Why would we expect there to be none between our models of faith? Recognizing and naming these differences allows us to see our own understanding being cobbled together out of various thoughts and beliefs.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Devotion - Monday, October 4
The cycle of readings I follow has me reading through Esther. Esther is a marvelous book, part of the Old Testament collection referred to as Wisdom Literature. It was also the subject of a recent conversation between myself and a student who thought he could stump me with a question.
Esther, a Jew, is selected by the King to be his Queen. But don’t think of Queen Elizabeth; this queen has no power or stature – even in the King’s house. She cannot approach him or his rooms without an invitation.
Esther has an uncle, Mordecai, who becomes aware of a plot by one of the King’s administrators to destroy all the Jews. Mordecai comes to Esther, to ask her help. When she responds, “What can I do?” Mordecai reminds her, “Who knows, perhaps you have come to the kingdom for a time such as this.”
Even though Esther has not been invited into the King’s presence for the past 30 days, she decides to risk her own life by seeking an invitation to his court.
“Who knows, perhaps you have come to the kingdom for a time such as this.” Esther is challenged to see herself as the one person able to make a difference. Esther is encouraged to think of what she might do and to understand that her actions might be the most crucial of all.
How differently we would go about our tasks if we shared Esther’s perspective. How often would we stop to do the right thing, the helpful thing – rather than passing the moment by and thinking that someone else will take care of it. “Perhaps you have come to kingdom for a time such as this.”
Here was the attempt at stumping me – Esther is the only book in the Bible which does not include God’s name. God is present in all that happens, but remains unnamed. I remembered this from my earlier readings of this book. It reminds me that the work God calls upon us to do is not always carried out in the place where God’s name rolls easily off our tongues (church.) Quite often, our time to serve the kingdom happens in the places which are thoroughly secular.
Who knows….
Esther, a Jew, is selected by the King to be his Queen. But don’t think of Queen Elizabeth; this queen has no power or stature – even in the King’s house. She cannot approach him or his rooms without an invitation.
Esther has an uncle, Mordecai, who becomes aware of a plot by one of the King’s administrators to destroy all the Jews. Mordecai comes to Esther, to ask her help. When she responds, “What can I do?” Mordecai reminds her, “Who knows, perhaps you have come to the kingdom for a time such as this.”
Even though Esther has not been invited into the King’s presence for the past 30 days, she decides to risk her own life by seeking an invitation to his court.
“Who knows, perhaps you have come to the kingdom for a time such as this.” Esther is challenged to see herself as the one person able to make a difference. Esther is encouraged to think of what she might do and to understand that her actions might be the most crucial of all.
How differently we would go about our tasks if we shared Esther’s perspective. How often would we stop to do the right thing, the helpful thing – rather than passing the moment by and thinking that someone else will take care of it. “Perhaps you have come to kingdom for a time such as this.”
Here was the attempt at stumping me – Esther is the only book in the Bible which does not include God’s name. God is present in all that happens, but remains unnamed. I remembered this from my earlier readings of this book. It reminds me that the work God calls upon us to do is not always carried out in the place where God’s name rolls easily off our tongues (church.) Quite often, our time to serve the kingdom happens in the places which are thoroughly secular.
Who knows….
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Sermon - Sunday, October 3, 2010
Pentecost 19 - Year C
Luke 17:5-10
Having All That is Needed
Things around here really take a beating the weeks leading up to Homecoming. We started the Habitat house a week ago Wednesday. Since then, I might have been in the office for a total of thirty minutes. The mix-up with the liturgies for this morning was in no small way traceable to my absence. But that is only the start of it. The third time I called back to the house to ask Laura to send me something I had left behind; she enlisted help from Cindy to try and figure out what was wrong with me. On Thursday, I completely forgot the Pre-seminary group meeting.
This is the seventeenth year of building Homecoming Habitat houses. And I would be the first to admit that I have lost more than a few steps since that first year. No arguments from me on that one. However, even though I have aged, lost a lot of hair, and picked up more pounds than I care to admit, the house got finished faster and looks better. It is a stronger effort now than it was before. Stronger, better for one reason and one reason only – a lot more mustard seeds. More folks doing a little something and fewer taking on a heavier load than they should.
This is the perspective taken on today’s Gospel reading by one of my colleagues. He reminded a group of us, that when we hear Jesus’ words about faith the size of a mustard seed, we tend to hear it as a comment to us, individually. “You”, as in “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed,” is heard in the singular. In reality, the original hearers would have been more inclined to understand it as plural. Jesus is speaking of the faith shared among all those to whom he speaks. It is this little bit of faith, shared among the company as a whole, which would make possible the great feats of which Jesus speaks.
We already know this to be true. It is played out in so many differing ways. Those who set out on their own seldom accomplish much. They may have a momentary flash in the pan; they may begin to build an impressive monument to themselves. But rarely do these last. It is that which is shared which has the ability to endure.
No one person can carry the weight. It must be shared. It is shared as we pass it back and forth, one to another. Should we ever be tempted to hold it as if it were our own, it wouldn’t look like much. But when it is shared, we see it as the thing of wonder which it is.
Amid the craziness of these past two weeks, there has been a lot of passing back and forth of this mustard seed of faith. I had the pleasure of observing its movement, seeing its power. Because of my preoccupation with the Habitat house, I observed rather than deceiving myself into thinking that I was in any way responsible for this evidence of the faith we share. It showed itself with regard to deaths in the extended families of the students.
It is difficult to locate a starting point. I guess it would need to be the death of Chris Olsen’s father in mid-March, followed by the death of Maglin & William’s grandfather. But it may have had its beginnings when Lauren’s grandmother died last fall. Ashley’s father died in April. Also in the spring, our student community experienced the deaths of Derek’s Grandfather, David & Andrew’s Grandfather, and Chris’ grandmother. During the summer, Sarah’s brother was killed in an auto accident. Just as the year was starting up, it was the maternal grandfather of Kyle and Matthew who died. Josh’s grandfather was next, followed by Sarah’s grandmother. Most recently, it was the news that Kyle and Matthew had lost their paternal grandfather. This weekend, Caleb headed home in order to tell his grandmother good-bye. They are anticipating death at any moment. (My fear is that I have left someone off the list. For that, I apologize.)
Now, this is a lot of grief to bear. And if any one person thought they were capable of navigating their way through it alone, they would be terribly mistaken. However, by sharing the burden, by sharing the faith which is ours to share, we are making it through.
These past two weeks, as members of the community would come by the Habitat house, they would give me updates. Travis was visiting Kyle when Ben and Anita returned from attending to the affairs of the elder Mr. Edge. He gave me an update. I think it was Josh who saw Sarah’s post about her grandmother and responded. Leslie attended the funeral last Saturday and shared with those of us who could not attend what a celebration of life it was. Each one, passing to another, ever so gently, this tiny little mustard seed we call faith. This thing which seems so small and vulnerable, but has a life and a promise and a power beyond all measure.
Should we ever be tempted to hold it as if it were our own, it wouldn’t look like much. But when it is shared, we see it as the thing of wonder which it is.
When our own faith is too thin, it is the faith of those around us which sustains us. When we are not sure, it is confidence in what other persons of faith are doing that sees us through.
The apostles say to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” They had seen him work countless other miracles; surely, he could handle this one. He hears their request, I am sure that he does, but he doesn’t meet it. He does not “increase” anything in them. Rather, he tells them that what they have is enough. He assures them that even the tiniest kernel of faith will see them through. “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea.’ and it would obey you.”
All too often we mishear this and think that Jesus is setting some baseline for faith. We mistakenly think that he is saying, you need to amass enough faith to make trees abandon their God-given location and go to some place where they are no good to anyone and will surely die. Jesus isn’t setting some impenetrable baseline – he is assuring us that what we have is enough. It is plenty.
This Gospel story is in that in-between time. The time between realizing that Jesus’ life will end with rejection and crucifixion and time when they will enter Jerusalem and see all this come to pass. What the apostles are about to face is going to be tough. There will be days, many days, when their faith will seem to be too thin to sustain the life they have taken on. Jesus wants to assure them that their faith isn’t too small, even if it is only the size of a mustard seed. It is enough. It is not the amount of faith which one has which matters; what matters is the One with whom that faith connects us. Our faith connects us to those who, like ourselves, have come to believe and trust. Our faith connects us to the God who assures us that we have been given all we need in order to survive, all we need in order to preserver.
Martin Luther once described the Church as one poor slob in the ditch, trying to help another poor slob out of the ditch. We are in this constant struggle to find the confidence we need. Jesus tells his disciples not to worry about amassing enough to do great things. “The little bit you already have,” he tells us, “is enough. Share it and see how easy the burden becomes.”
Amen.
Luke 17:5-10
Having All That is Needed
Things around here really take a beating the weeks leading up to Homecoming. We started the Habitat house a week ago Wednesday. Since then, I might have been in the office for a total of thirty minutes. The mix-up with the liturgies for this morning was in no small way traceable to my absence. But that is only the start of it. The third time I called back to the house to ask Laura to send me something I had left behind; she enlisted help from Cindy to try and figure out what was wrong with me. On Thursday, I completely forgot the Pre-seminary group meeting.
This is the seventeenth year of building Homecoming Habitat houses. And I would be the first to admit that I have lost more than a few steps since that first year. No arguments from me on that one. However, even though I have aged, lost a lot of hair, and picked up more pounds than I care to admit, the house got finished faster and looks better. It is a stronger effort now than it was before. Stronger, better for one reason and one reason only – a lot more mustard seeds. More folks doing a little something and fewer taking on a heavier load than they should.
This is the perspective taken on today’s Gospel reading by one of my colleagues. He reminded a group of us, that when we hear Jesus’ words about faith the size of a mustard seed, we tend to hear it as a comment to us, individually. “You”, as in “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed,” is heard in the singular. In reality, the original hearers would have been more inclined to understand it as plural. Jesus is speaking of the faith shared among all those to whom he speaks. It is this little bit of faith, shared among the company as a whole, which would make possible the great feats of which Jesus speaks.
We already know this to be true. It is played out in so many differing ways. Those who set out on their own seldom accomplish much. They may have a momentary flash in the pan; they may begin to build an impressive monument to themselves. But rarely do these last. It is that which is shared which has the ability to endure.
No one person can carry the weight. It must be shared. It is shared as we pass it back and forth, one to another. Should we ever be tempted to hold it as if it were our own, it wouldn’t look like much. But when it is shared, we see it as the thing of wonder which it is.
Amid the craziness of these past two weeks, there has been a lot of passing back and forth of this mustard seed of faith. I had the pleasure of observing its movement, seeing its power. Because of my preoccupation with the Habitat house, I observed rather than deceiving myself into thinking that I was in any way responsible for this evidence of the faith we share. It showed itself with regard to deaths in the extended families of the students.
It is difficult to locate a starting point. I guess it would need to be the death of Chris Olsen’s father in mid-March, followed by the death of Maglin & William’s grandfather. But it may have had its beginnings when Lauren’s grandmother died last fall. Ashley’s father died in April. Also in the spring, our student community experienced the deaths of Derek’s Grandfather, David & Andrew’s Grandfather, and Chris’ grandmother. During the summer, Sarah’s brother was killed in an auto accident. Just as the year was starting up, it was the maternal grandfather of Kyle and Matthew who died. Josh’s grandfather was next, followed by Sarah’s grandmother. Most recently, it was the news that Kyle and Matthew had lost their paternal grandfather. This weekend, Caleb headed home in order to tell his grandmother good-bye. They are anticipating death at any moment. (My fear is that I have left someone off the list. For that, I apologize.)
Now, this is a lot of grief to bear. And if any one person thought they were capable of navigating their way through it alone, they would be terribly mistaken. However, by sharing the burden, by sharing the faith which is ours to share, we are making it through.
These past two weeks, as members of the community would come by the Habitat house, they would give me updates. Travis was visiting Kyle when Ben and Anita returned from attending to the affairs of the elder Mr. Edge. He gave me an update. I think it was Josh who saw Sarah’s post about her grandmother and responded. Leslie attended the funeral last Saturday and shared with those of us who could not attend what a celebration of life it was. Each one, passing to another, ever so gently, this tiny little mustard seed we call faith. This thing which seems so small and vulnerable, but has a life and a promise and a power beyond all measure.
Should we ever be tempted to hold it as if it were our own, it wouldn’t look like much. But when it is shared, we see it as the thing of wonder which it is.
When our own faith is too thin, it is the faith of those around us which sustains us. When we are not sure, it is confidence in what other persons of faith are doing that sees us through.
The apostles say to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” They had seen him work countless other miracles; surely, he could handle this one. He hears their request, I am sure that he does, but he doesn’t meet it. He does not “increase” anything in them. Rather, he tells them that what they have is enough. He assures them that even the tiniest kernel of faith will see them through. “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea.’ and it would obey you.”
All too often we mishear this and think that Jesus is setting some baseline for faith. We mistakenly think that he is saying, you need to amass enough faith to make trees abandon their God-given location and go to some place where they are no good to anyone and will surely die. Jesus isn’t setting some impenetrable baseline – he is assuring us that what we have is enough. It is plenty.
This Gospel story is in that in-between time. The time between realizing that Jesus’ life will end with rejection and crucifixion and time when they will enter Jerusalem and see all this come to pass. What the apostles are about to face is going to be tough. There will be days, many days, when their faith will seem to be too thin to sustain the life they have taken on. Jesus wants to assure them that their faith isn’t too small, even if it is only the size of a mustard seed. It is enough. It is not the amount of faith which one has which matters; what matters is the One with whom that faith connects us. Our faith connects us to those who, like ourselves, have come to believe and trust. Our faith connects us to the God who assures us that we have been given all we need in order to survive, all we need in order to preserver.
Martin Luther once described the Church as one poor slob in the ditch, trying to help another poor slob out of the ditch. We are in this constant struggle to find the confidence we need. Jesus tells his disciples not to worry about amassing enough to do great things. “The little bit you already have,” he tells us, “is enough. Share it and see how easy the burden becomes.”
Amen.
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