The crowd around Jesus is large, a multitude of thousands according to Luke, so many that they are stepping on each other in an attempt to get closer. The chapter before our reading today is one familiar teaching after another about possessions and anxiety and the coming of the kingdom of God. But they keep peppering Jesus with questions and it is clear that they do not understand him.
In frustration, Jesus cries out that if they are able to tell the weather from the clouds and the winds, why can’t they interpret the present time.
It is in the midst of that conversation that someone mentions the Galileans who were slaughtered by Pilate’s forces while they made their sacrifices in the Temple. It would seem that they are telling Jesus they certainly can interpret the time. We just don’t know exactly what their interpretation is. Are they saying that the Romans are getting bolder, that it is no longer safe even in the Temple, that now more than ever they need a King David-like messiah who will rid them of the oppressors?
Or are they saying that the fate of these Galileans is proof of the fact that they were not righteous ones making sacrifice but sinners who got what was coming to them. Perhaps they believe that God strikes down sinners who dare enter the Temple!
Whatever they meant, Jesus immediately turns the talk to sin, repentance and, yes, judgment. “Do you honestly think these Galileans were more sinful than all the others? Do you think the eighteen people killed when the tower fell were the only sinners in Jerusalem? No, I tell you, what happened to them had nothing to do with their sins.”
And that’s where everyone there probably began breathing a sigh of relief. Except that Jesus hadn’t gotten to the period of his sentence. “No; but unless you repent you will perish as they did.”
What? Does this mean this multitude needs to go home and lock themselves in their houses so that nothing can fall on them and Pilate can’t get to them? Didn’t Jesus understand that they were merely pointing out they could interpret the time? Is he telling them that they are not righteous, that God’s judgment could fall on them, too? You can begin to understand why some of these same people will turn against Jesus, can’t you? He is intent on poking them with a sharp stick.
And then he tells the parable of the fig tree. Fig trees have often been used by the prophets to represent Israel. The man in the parable probably lives in town, an absentee landlord. Note that he “has” the tree planted and it is to his vinedresser, a servant, that he is talking. All the man wants is the fruit. And when there is none, he decides that the tree should be cut down.
Now any gardener will tell you this is reasonable. Figs use up a lot of nutrients in the soil, nutrients that the grapes would be getting otherwise. And their sole purpose is to produce figs. If they don’t, then taking the tree out makes sense.
But the vinedresser asks for more time, for mercy on this tree. He will take better care of it, loosen the soil and fertilize it with manure to give it more nutrients. “Just give it this one more year, sir, and let’s see what happens.”
We are not told what happens to the tree. The disciples don’t ask for an interpretation of the parable. Maybe they understand this one. So why do we - I - have a hard time with it?
The first part of the reading makes good sense to me. I don’t for a minute think that bad things happen because God is striking us down for our sins or even the sins of our ancestors. That was the common belief at the time and it is still widely believed today. If it weren’t, then Pat Robertson’s statement that the earthquake in Haiti was God’s judgment wouldn’t have made the news, would it? When bad things happen to our dear friends, we don’t always know what to think. Well, Jesus makes it clear that we can stop thinking those things happened because of a person’s sins. Bad things often happen to us when we sin but God doesn’t cause us to become terminally ill or be hit by a drunk driver. Rather we live in the consequences of our own bad decisions, something which can be pretty hellish.
I do believe that Jesus is telling the multitude and us that we may well die without having made our sins right. If the only time we confess is here on Sunday, thinking that will take care of repentance for another week, we are sadly mistaken. There is a prayer in The Great Litany that asks the Lord to deliver us from dying suddenly and unprepared. Just like those who went to make their offerings in the Temple and found themselves the victims of state oppression. Or those who happened to be walking down the wrong street at the wrong time. Confession, repentance and reconciliation are daily activities. We don’t store our sins up all week long and get rid of them all at once. Some might take years but that just means we need to work on them for as long as it takes.
But the parable reminds me that even though the wrath of God doesn’t manifest itself in cancer or car accidents, the wrath of God still exists. Judgment Day will happen for all of us. An author I read this week said she imagines it will be like standing under a glaring spotlight and being bombarded by all the pains she has caused others, pains she meant to inflict and pain she didn’t know she had. For me, it has always been like the parable of the wheat and the weeds that grow up together, are harvested and then separated with the weeds being burned up.
I believe we will stand face to face with the Lord and be judged. I believe we can know a little of what that will be like every day when we sit down with God and talk about what we’ve done and what we haven’t done, about how we have hurt or been hurt and what we need to do about that.
But before we go thinking that we need to live our lives in fear and trembling waiting for the ax to be put to our roots, we need to remember the end of that parable. It’s about mercy and it says that even in judgment there is mercy. They come together as part of a whole. We all want mercy, rely on mercy when we go wrong, pray for mercy at least every Sunday - Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.
So I believe that, in some odd way, judgment is something we ought to look forward to. It won’t be painless but we will come away truly cleansed of all our wrongdoings, perhaps truly recognizing God’s love and mercy for the first time, so that we may increase in knowledge and love of the Lord and go from strength to strength in the life of perfect service in God’s heavenly kingdom.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Haiti and dining out
Time flies and I've not been motivated to post much, I guess. Almost two months has gone by since the last one.
I've been thinking about Haiti a lot since the earthquake. John Talbird brought a "mite box" calendar to our Diocesan Convention to encourage people to continue contributing to the relief efforts there. Our Diocese has had a companion relationship with the Diocese of Haiti - the fastest growing diocese in The Episcopal Church - in the past and there are still strong ties.
One of the things the authors of the calendar remind us is that we are not called to be benefactors of the people in Haiti but rather friends. That is certainly a different take than most of what we hear in the pleas for us to help. It is one thing to send a check to help nameless, faceless people but quite another to send help - a check or goods or warm bodies with the right skills - to stand with our friends and rebuild with them. I feel blessed to know John and others who go to Haiti regularly and bring back stories about the people there. I know, too, that those folks are also taking stories about us to the Haitians.
Yesterday's calendar entry was about the difficulty of transportation during tropical rainstorms. "Imagine unpaved roads of mud that have endured centuries of animal and vehicle traffic. The ruts are so deep that the trenches swallow tired. Puddles are three and four feet deep at times. Torrential rains can make travel so impossible that no mechanical vehicles can operate there." I am thinking of the many days this winter when county schools have been closed because of snow. Our small amounts of snowfall haven't begun to make travel as impossible as it can be in Haiti and yet, we have closed school countless times in the last two months!
Reading this calendar is incredibly humbling. Realizing that Chile is now also suffering the after effects of an earthquake and a tsunami requires me to rethink my priorities. I read the summary of my credit card expenditures for 2009 just this morning. I am ashamed to see what I spend eating out, for instance, and that is nothing compared to the general catchall "merchandise"!
So this is the year that I take living simply to heart. I'm not quite sure that will extend to going to the library rather than the bookstore but it will definitely take in dining out and "merchandise."
I've been thinking about Haiti a lot since the earthquake. John Talbird brought a "mite box" calendar to our Diocesan Convention to encourage people to continue contributing to the relief efforts there. Our Diocese has had a companion relationship with the Diocese of Haiti - the fastest growing diocese in The Episcopal Church - in the past and there are still strong ties.
One of the things the authors of the calendar remind us is that we are not called to be benefactors of the people in Haiti but rather friends. That is certainly a different take than most of what we hear in the pleas for us to help. It is one thing to send a check to help nameless, faceless people but quite another to send help - a check or goods or warm bodies with the right skills - to stand with our friends and rebuild with them. I feel blessed to know John and others who go to Haiti regularly and bring back stories about the people there. I know, too, that those folks are also taking stories about us to the Haitians.
Yesterday's calendar entry was about the difficulty of transportation during tropical rainstorms. "Imagine unpaved roads of mud that have endured centuries of animal and vehicle traffic. The ruts are so deep that the trenches swallow tired. Puddles are three and four feet deep at times. Torrential rains can make travel so impossible that no mechanical vehicles can operate there." I am thinking of the many days this winter when county schools have been closed because of snow. Our small amounts of snowfall haven't begun to make travel as impossible as it can be in Haiti and yet, we have closed school countless times in the last two months!
Reading this calendar is incredibly humbling. Realizing that Chile is now also suffering the after effects of an earthquake and a tsunami requires me to rethink my priorities. I read the summary of my credit card expenditures for 2009 just this morning. I am ashamed to see what I spend eating out, for instance, and that is nothing compared to the general catchall "merchandise"!
So this is the year that I take living simply to heart. I'm not quite sure that will extend to going to the library rather than the bookstore but it will definitely take in dining out and "merchandise."
Friday, January 15, 2010
The wedding at Cana
What a curious story this is, especially for the Gospel of John where Jesus is portrayed as confident of his mission and in charge of his life. Here, though, we have a story in which his mother sounds pushy and he sounds petulant and reluctant, maybe even downright rude. There is no consensus among the commentators I have read about how to handle this story.
I am enough of a historian to be fascinated by the discussions of culture then and now, language and religious practices then and now. But I don't really think knowing that the containers used for ritual purification being empty is a symbol of the emptiness of the old religion helps me understand this story. I'd really love to know why John put it in here. It seems so very out of place in this Gospel.
Carol Lakey Hess, in Feasting on the Word, suggests that Mary's comment about the lack of wine is her way of nudging Jesus/God to do what is needed to make the situation right. I like the idea of nudging God. Isn't that what we often do in our prayers? Don't we spend a lot of time talking with God about all the things that need fixing?
But does Mary think Jesus hasn't noticed the lack of wine? Likely he has and I think his reply about what that problem has to do with him is nudging Mary back. "How important is this to you?" he might be asking. And her response makes it clear that saving the family's face is very important to her. "Do whatever he tells you."
In order to nudge God, we have to be aware of what's happening around us. I wonder how many of the guests at the wedding were aware that the wine was running out. The story leads us to believe that many of them were too drunk to notice anything. But Mary noticed. She was watching closely the activity around her.
If we are going to make it a habit to nudge God, we need to be prepared to be nudged back. "How deeply do you care about this? What do you expect me to do?" And here's where we become less Mary and more servants of the house. Because if we want God to pay attention, then we must be willing to do whatever God tells us to do.
I like the fact that our epistle reading this week is Paul's discussion of spiritual gifts. We don't all have the same ones but they are equally important and all given to us by the Spirit. God nudges us to use our particular gifts in specific situations.
When we pray, we need to listen for God's response. We can even anticipate by checking the need against our gifts. Do I have what it takes to make a difference there or not? If I can't, then what can I do? Sometimes, the answer is praying for those who can to respond to the need. Sometimes, like in the response to the earthquake in Haiti, our role is in the background supporting those with the gifts necessary to help the people and the country recover.
Do whatever he tells you. Mary is speaking to us. So is Jesus.
I am enough of a historian to be fascinated by the discussions of culture then and now, language and religious practices then and now. But I don't really think knowing that the containers used for ritual purification being empty is a symbol of the emptiness of the old religion helps me understand this story. I'd really love to know why John put it in here. It seems so very out of place in this Gospel.
Carol Lakey Hess, in Feasting on the Word, suggests that Mary's comment about the lack of wine is her way of nudging Jesus/God to do what is needed to make the situation right. I like the idea of nudging God. Isn't that what we often do in our prayers? Don't we spend a lot of time talking with God about all the things that need fixing?
But does Mary think Jesus hasn't noticed the lack of wine? Likely he has and I think his reply about what that problem has to do with him is nudging Mary back. "How important is this to you?" he might be asking. And her response makes it clear that saving the family's face is very important to her. "Do whatever he tells you."
In order to nudge God, we have to be aware of what's happening around us. I wonder how many of the guests at the wedding were aware that the wine was running out. The story leads us to believe that many of them were too drunk to notice anything. But Mary noticed. She was watching closely the activity around her.
If we are going to make it a habit to nudge God, we need to be prepared to be nudged back. "How deeply do you care about this? What do you expect me to do?" And here's where we become less Mary and more servants of the house. Because if we want God to pay attention, then we must be willing to do whatever God tells us to do.
I like the fact that our epistle reading this week is Paul's discussion of spiritual gifts. We don't all have the same ones but they are equally important and all given to us by the Spirit. God nudges us to use our particular gifts in specific situations.
When we pray, we need to listen for God's response. We can even anticipate by checking the need against our gifts. Do I have what it takes to make a difference there or not? If I can't, then what can I do? Sometimes, the answer is praying for those who can to respond to the need. Sometimes, like in the response to the earthquake in Haiti, our role is in the background supporting those with the gifts necessary to help the people and the country recover.
Do whatever he tells you. Mary is speaking to us. So is Jesus.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Christmas Eve?
A young couple, traveling through Kingsport on their way to Washington DC, were forced to stop their journey becaue the wife was in labor. It took all the money they had to make the trip to the capitol but they were hoping that they could get help from their representative. They had written to him asking for assistance but their letters were never answered. So, despite Mary's condition, she and Joseph decided that the only wat to get help was to plant themselves in their congressmans' office. Little did they know, he had gone to the islands for Christmas and his office was closed until late January.
Joseph drove their old jalopy into Kingsport, following the big blue signs with an H on them. he wanted a doctor to see Marry and, if this really was the time for their son to be born, perhaps the hospital would deliver the baby even though they had no insurance. But the hospital turned them away.
So they drove downtown, trying to find some place to stay and give birth. All the agencies were closed for the holidays and the Salvation Army could only provide a bag lunch as all their beds were full that night. The couple knocked on all the church doors but everyone was busy singing Christmas carols and the ushers didn't like the way the couple was dressed.
Mary and Joseph kept driving around but could find nowhere willing to let them stay. Their credit cards were maxed out and none of the motel operators were willing to take a chance that the bill would get paid.
Finally, they decided to take shelter on a loading dock on Stone Drive. It was clear to them that Mary couldn't go any further. And there she had the baby. Joseph looked through the dumpster and found some boxes and wrapping materials to make a bed of sorts for the child and scrounged some more to find bubble wwrap and more cardboard to keep them all warm.
There was a security guard patrolling the parking lot. She was the activity over on the loading dock and decided she'd better check it out. The closer she got, the more she realized there was something different about these vagrants. And then she saw the child.
Well, she went right up and asked Joseph if there was anything she could do for them. He smiled and thanked her for her consideration. He allowed as how they could use a bite to eat. So the guard went right up the hill to Kroger and started looking for things they could eat without having to heat them first. She found some blankets, too, and added them to the cart. When she got to the checkout, she told the clergy aboud Joseph and Mary. And the clerk told the manager and the manager got on the loudspeaker and told everyone in the store. Pretty son, everyone was picking up groceries, socks, diapers and baby wipes and heading for the checkout. All the store staff rushed to help them check out and quickly locked up the store.
Then all of those people rushed to their cars and followed the security guard to the place where the baby lay. It wasn't hard to find because there was a great big star shining over the loading dock by this time. Everyone unloaded their gifts into Joseph's car and then went to see the baby. They stayed and stayed, reluctant to leave because there was something about this scene that woke a distant memory in each of them.
And then one of the store clerks remembered. "For see - I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord." And she was so surprised that she blurted it out! Everyone's heds came up and they looked at each other realizing that the clerk had it right.
Someone began singing Silent Night and slowly, everyone else joined in. Even those who hadn't sung it since they were little children remembered the words.
And suddenly, there was with the people a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest heave, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"
Joseph drove their old jalopy into Kingsport, following the big blue signs with an H on them. he wanted a doctor to see Marry and, if this really was the time for their son to be born, perhaps the hospital would deliver the baby even though they had no insurance. But the hospital turned them away.
So they drove downtown, trying to find some place to stay and give birth. All the agencies were closed for the holidays and the Salvation Army could only provide a bag lunch as all their beds were full that night. The couple knocked on all the church doors but everyone was busy singing Christmas carols and the ushers didn't like the way the couple was dressed.
Mary and Joseph kept driving around but could find nowhere willing to let them stay. Their credit cards were maxed out and none of the motel operators were willing to take a chance that the bill would get paid.
Finally, they decided to take shelter on a loading dock on Stone Drive. It was clear to them that Mary couldn't go any further. And there she had the baby. Joseph looked through the dumpster and found some boxes and wrapping materials to make a bed of sorts for the child and scrounged some more to find bubble wwrap and more cardboard to keep them all warm.
There was a security guard patrolling the parking lot. She was the activity over on the loading dock and decided she'd better check it out. The closer she got, the more she realized there was something different about these vagrants. And then she saw the child.
Well, she went right up and asked Joseph if there was anything she could do for them. He smiled and thanked her for her consideration. He allowed as how they could use a bite to eat. So the guard went right up the hill to Kroger and started looking for things they could eat without having to heat them first. She found some blankets, too, and added them to the cart. When she got to the checkout, she told the clergy aboud Joseph and Mary. And the clerk told the manager and the manager got on the loudspeaker and told everyone in the store. Pretty son, everyone was picking up groceries, socks, diapers and baby wipes and heading for the checkout. All the store staff rushed to help them check out and quickly locked up the store.
Then all of those people rushed to their cars and followed the security guard to the place where the baby lay. It wasn't hard to find because there was a great big star shining over the loading dock by this time. Everyone unloaded their gifts into Joseph's car and then went to see the baby. They stayed and stayed, reluctant to leave because there was something about this scene that woke a distant memory in each of them.
And then one of the store clerks remembered. "For see - I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord." And she was so surprised that she blurted it out! Everyone's heds came up and they looked at each other realizing that the clerk had it right.
Someone began singing Silent Night and slowly, everyone else joined in. Even those who hadn't sung it since they were little children remembered the words.
And suddenly, there was with the people a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest heave, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Just another Wednesday?
There is a rhythm to the life of a parish priest. It is based first on the weekly liturgies and the work that goes into making sure they go well. Sermon preparation is ongoing starting Monday and, in a good week, might be completed by Thursday.
Then there are calls to folks who need checking up on, mostly for health reasons, and home communions. Youth Group is a weekly occurrence and some planning is required for that. We are a small enough church that there aren't a whole lot of meeetings and that's nice. I enjoy the ones we do have more that way.
But sometimes, a nice quiet week on the calendar can turn into a whirlwind of activity. The call asking for a ride to the doctor an hour and a half away. The day the phone rings off the hook like this morning. People stopping by for one thing and another - this morning's impromptu question about our theology of when the Spirit comes within us! - and emails that require attention right away or need more time and study before answers can be written.
My ex used to say there were days when all he did was put out fires. That's an apt description of the life of a priest. Even when it is a scheduled fire, like a meeting or a counseling session, it's still putting out fires.
No one teaches you how to do that in seminary! Although, if you listen closely when professors talk about their days in the parish, you can pick up the basic knowledge that life will often be about putting out fires. Still, the necessary tools are not sold in the bookstore or lectured about in any class.
The key is not to turn a match into a roaring blaze. I try to start by not adding any accelerant to the conversation. And listening, asking a few questions - bot not too many! - helps slow the burn. If we are lucky, the fire goes out as quickly as it began.
I am a fan of chaos so I don't want my days to be regimented and strictly ordered. But I did learn about organization when I was a librarian and I find it helpful to pull out those lessons now and then. Otherwise, I would need cloning in order to be in more than one scheduled place at a time. ;-)
Regardless of how long the day or how many unexpected events occur, today is in so many ways just another Wednesday. A day the Lord has made, a day I've tried to remember all I have to do and maybe even gotten most of it done. A day to be cherished and to give thanks for.
Then there are calls to folks who need checking up on, mostly for health reasons, and home communions. Youth Group is a weekly occurrence and some planning is required for that. We are a small enough church that there aren't a whole lot of meeetings and that's nice. I enjoy the ones we do have more that way.
But sometimes, a nice quiet week on the calendar can turn into a whirlwind of activity. The call asking for a ride to the doctor an hour and a half away. The day the phone rings off the hook like this morning. People stopping by for one thing and another - this morning's impromptu question about our theology of when the Spirit comes within us! - and emails that require attention right away or need more time and study before answers can be written.
My ex used to say there were days when all he did was put out fires. That's an apt description of the life of a priest. Even when it is a scheduled fire, like a meeting or a counseling session, it's still putting out fires.
No one teaches you how to do that in seminary! Although, if you listen closely when professors talk about their days in the parish, you can pick up the basic knowledge that life will often be about putting out fires. Still, the necessary tools are not sold in the bookstore or lectured about in any class.
The key is not to turn a match into a roaring blaze. I try to start by not adding any accelerant to the conversation. And listening, asking a few questions - bot not too many! - helps slow the burn. If we are lucky, the fire goes out as quickly as it began.
I am a fan of chaos so I don't want my days to be regimented and strictly ordered. But I did learn about organization when I was a librarian and I find it helpful to pull out those lessons now and then. Otherwise, I would need cloning in order to be in more than one scheduled place at a time. ;-)
Regardless of how long the day or how many unexpected events occur, today is in so many ways just another Wednesday. A day the Lord has made, a day I've tried to remember all I have to do and maybe even gotten most of it done. A day to be cherished and to give thanks for.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
OMG! Proverbs 31:10-31
Even my secretary expressed offense at the fact that we are reading this lesson tomorrow morning. I automatically determined that it would not receive homiletical comment in *my* church. But then, at a meeting of women on Thursday, I began to think more about why I really dislike this description of the capable wife.
Basically, this is a classic example of reading ancient passages with eyes of the 21st century. I would guess that none of the teenagers in the congregation can relate to this passage at all. They have likely never met this woman. Frankly, when I think of my grandmothers, as much as I loved them and see some of these traits in their lives, I can't say they were as selfless as this virtuous wife. I see my mother in some of it and my mother-in-law in there, too. But this image of a woman who worked 24/7, ran the household, bought and planted the vinyards, made all the clothes and out of the best fabrics, laughed in the face of the future, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, doesn't ring true for me. She's too good. I am inclined to think that a group of men sat over their wine one evening and decided to imagine "the perfect wife." Good of them to toss in a line about loving the Lord while they were at it.
The problem here is that we are more than a few centuries away from this particular time in history and we have no idea what on earth is so great about giving your whole life to make your husband look good. For that matter, it doesn't read well if the genders are reversed either, does it? Do any of us want a husband who spends his whole life making us look good as we sit in the city gates doing woman's work?
All too often, we like to slide past the parts of Scripture we don't like. Some folks skip straight from Genesis and Exodus - the stories are good - stop off at Psalms for a bit and then head straight for the New Testament, giving a short nod to Isaiah on the way. Obviously, the great lectionary gurus thought we ought not to do that. So does Proverbs 31:10-31 have anything to say to us?
Since it is linked with Mark 9:30-37, I think it just might have some use. Mark tells the disciples once again that he will be killed and rise again but they didn't understand. So they chose to discuss who among them was the greatest. You know the story. Jesus asks them what they were talking about, they have to confess and he tells them that the one who is first is really last and servant to all even to the point of welcoming little children, the very least of all humanity.
In other words, if we want to be welcomed into the Kingdom by God, we need to be more like the capable wife. We need to fight for the needs of our family - remember the Kingdom family is a lot larger than who live in our houses - and make sure everyone has warm clothing for the winter. We need to laugh and be happy because we are daily engaged in the work of the family and in proclaiming the greatness of the head of our household.
And there is one particular line in Proverbs that speaks directly to the image of Jesus with the child: "She opens her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy." Children in our world have a lot more power than they did in Jesus' time. But the poor are the most helpless today. They have no voice. Without a residence, they have no way to access the miserable system of red tape we have devised in order to secure food and shelter for themselves and their children. One in four children in this country live in poverty. That means an awful lot of adults are there, too, adults who are fighting for their families just as hard as the capable wife. But they have no way to buy a vinyard or the cloth to make fine linen garments of the richest colors.
That's where we disciples come in. Forget about being first, last or coming in a good second. Spend all that energy seeking ways to help those who cannot help themselves. Don't add to their burden by asking them whether they are truly needy. Just feed them, give them warm clothing and a place to stay.
I talked with a priest today who told me his congregation is losing members because the folks who run the soup kitchen at his church refuse to turn away people who have come from other towns. The feeling of those leaving is that they should only feed those who live in their town - not a town that looks to have a lot of hungry people in it to start with. But the organizers won't turn anyone away and they haven't run out of food yet. In fact, they have helped organize another soup kitchen in a neighboring town. This is what Jesus calls us to do. Willingly, happily, with no strings attached.
So despite the feminist hackles that go up as soon as we hear Proverbs 31, there is something about this amazing surreal woman that can still teach us how to live, how to raise up our bridegroom and pay no attention to our own status. Don't you just hate it when what you want to ignore turns out to have something to teach you? :-)
Basically, this is a classic example of reading ancient passages with eyes of the 21st century. I would guess that none of the teenagers in the congregation can relate to this passage at all. They have likely never met this woman. Frankly, when I think of my grandmothers, as much as I loved them and see some of these traits in their lives, I can't say they were as selfless as this virtuous wife. I see my mother in some of it and my mother-in-law in there, too. But this image of a woman who worked 24/7, ran the household, bought and planted the vinyards, made all the clothes and out of the best fabrics, laughed in the face of the future, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, doesn't ring true for me. She's too good. I am inclined to think that a group of men sat over their wine one evening and decided to imagine "the perfect wife." Good of them to toss in a line about loving the Lord while they were at it.
The problem here is that we are more than a few centuries away from this particular time in history and we have no idea what on earth is so great about giving your whole life to make your husband look good. For that matter, it doesn't read well if the genders are reversed either, does it? Do any of us want a husband who spends his whole life making us look good as we sit in the city gates doing woman's work?
All too often, we like to slide past the parts of Scripture we don't like. Some folks skip straight from Genesis and Exodus - the stories are good - stop off at Psalms for a bit and then head straight for the New Testament, giving a short nod to Isaiah on the way. Obviously, the great lectionary gurus thought we ought not to do that. So does Proverbs 31:10-31 have anything to say to us?
Since it is linked with Mark 9:30-37, I think it just might have some use. Mark tells the disciples once again that he will be killed and rise again but they didn't understand. So they chose to discuss who among them was the greatest. You know the story. Jesus asks them what they were talking about, they have to confess and he tells them that the one who is first is really last and servant to all even to the point of welcoming little children, the very least of all humanity.
In other words, if we want to be welcomed into the Kingdom by God, we need to be more like the capable wife. We need to fight for the needs of our family - remember the Kingdom family is a lot larger than who live in our houses - and make sure everyone has warm clothing for the winter. We need to laugh and be happy because we are daily engaged in the work of the family and in proclaiming the greatness of the head of our household.
And there is one particular line in Proverbs that speaks directly to the image of Jesus with the child: "She opens her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy." Children in our world have a lot more power than they did in Jesus' time. But the poor are the most helpless today. They have no voice. Without a residence, they have no way to access the miserable system of red tape we have devised in order to secure food and shelter for themselves and their children. One in four children in this country live in poverty. That means an awful lot of adults are there, too, adults who are fighting for their families just as hard as the capable wife. But they have no way to buy a vinyard or the cloth to make fine linen garments of the richest colors.
That's where we disciples come in. Forget about being first, last or coming in a good second. Spend all that energy seeking ways to help those who cannot help themselves. Don't add to their burden by asking them whether they are truly needy. Just feed them, give them warm clothing and a place to stay.
I talked with a priest today who told me his congregation is losing members because the folks who run the soup kitchen at his church refuse to turn away people who have come from other towns. The feeling of those leaving is that they should only feed those who live in their town - not a town that looks to have a lot of hungry people in it to start with. But the organizers won't turn anyone away and they haven't run out of food yet. In fact, they have helped organize another soup kitchen in a neighboring town. This is what Jesus calls us to do. Willingly, happily, with no strings attached.
So despite the feminist hackles that go up as soon as we hear Proverbs 31, there is something about this amazing surreal woman that can still teach us how to live, how to raise up our bridegroom and pay no attention to our own status. Don't you just hate it when what you want to ignore turns out to have something to teach you? :-)
Thursday, August 20, 2009
John 6:56-69
"This teaching is difficult," they said. "It's too hard. Who can accept it?"
Probably the first time I said "it's too hard" was in algebra class. And despite my parents' urging to try, try again, I gave up quickly and skated by on poor grades. Then there was the zipper I couldn't seem to get into a suede cloth jumper. After the third try, I said, "this is impossible. It can't be done." My mother, with her teeth gritted, said, "oh yes it can!" and went to the sewing machine and did it in no time at all.
One of the things I believe my generation (boomers) has to answer for the most is the way we deal with "this is difficult/too hard." Even those of us who never bought into "free love" liked the idea of "if it feels good, do it." Difficult things don't feel good, at least not right away. So we walked away from the hard things, especially in our faith as we asked, "how can God allow this to happen?"
Eventually we came back for the most part. Our parents might say that we finally grew up. We started doing the difficult things - working real jobs, raising families, learning to budget our money - because we didn't really have a choice. There was no one else to do it for us. But we didn't teach our children to tackle the difficult things, did we? We particularly didn't manage to teach them the importance of belonging to a faith community.
I remember the next time I said "this is too hard." It was when my dad had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, late stage. I was talking to my mother-in-law. I told her that losing a parent was too hard and that I didn't want to do it this time, let alone three more times. She merely said, "you don't have a choice."
It is true there are difficult things that we can't walk away from. But difficult teachings is another matter. I have friends who have left their faith behind because someone died, because someone didn't die soon enough, because they didn't like the priest, because the new hymns replaced old familiar ones, because the size/shape/ethnicity/sexuality of the congregation changed and they couldn't deal with it. Too many of them, confusing faith in the Christ with membership in a worshiping community, walked out.
Peter has the right of it in his answer to Jesus. Jesus asks, "do you also wish to go away?" and Peter answers, "Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God."
When people tell me they are leaving The Episcopal Church, the first question I ask is whether they have found another church. We humans need a church to help nurture and support our faith when it wobbles. If those who want to leave TEC haven't got somewhere else to go, I urge them not to leave. If they have found another community that is more nurturing and supportive, then I urge them to become a part of it with my blessing.
But the difficult teachings don't go away just because we change congregations or denominations. They are always there, poking and prodding us.
The teaching of Jesus is difficult, sometimes too difficult. That is when we turn to our brothers and sisters in faith. Sometimes all we need is their presence with us. Sometimes we need them to listen to our doubts and questions and help us come to understand better. After all, we are supposed to grow in faith, not rise from baptism fully formed. You don't teach a child to count from one to ten and then put them in an advanced calculus class.
But once we have come to believe, there really is nowhere else to go. Leaving doesn't help solve the difficult things. Staying might not, either, but choosing to stay means we have chosen to continue working on the hard teachings. And just because Jesus no longer walks among us teaching in parables doesn't mean the difficult teaching isn't still going on.
Difficult teaching makes us uncomfortable. It's supposed to. If we have made ourselves a cozy nest of our faith, a hammock that rocks us gently in the shade of the trees, then we are not working hard enough on being faithful. Reread the gospels. Go back and hear what Paul wrote while he sat in prison. Nowhere will you find Easy Street. Almost everywhere you will find challenges, obstacles, tests, hard teachings. Paul speaks of being a prisoner in the Lord. This is not an image of comfort yet it is a state of being that Paul relished.
So when the teaching is too hard, when there are obstacles in the road, turn to your church family. Ask the hard questions there. You will likely find that others are struggling with the same question.
Probably the first time I said "it's too hard" was in algebra class. And despite my parents' urging to try, try again, I gave up quickly and skated by on poor grades. Then there was the zipper I couldn't seem to get into a suede cloth jumper. After the third try, I said, "this is impossible. It can't be done." My mother, with her teeth gritted, said, "oh yes it can!" and went to the sewing machine and did it in no time at all.
One of the things I believe my generation (boomers) has to answer for the most is the way we deal with "this is difficult/too hard." Even those of us who never bought into "free love" liked the idea of "if it feels good, do it." Difficult things don't feel good, at least not right away. So we walked away from the hard things, especially in our faith as we asked, "how can God allow this to happen?"
Eventually we came back for the most part. Our parents might say that we finally grew up. We started doing the difficult things - working real jobs, raising families, learning to budget our money - because we didn't really have a choice. There was no one else to do it for us. But we didn't teach our children to tackle the difficult things, did we? We particularly didn't manage to teach them the importance of belonging to a faith community.
I remember the next time I said "this is too hard." It was when my dad had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, late stage. I was talking to my mother-in-law. I told her that losing a parent was too hard and that I didn't want to do it this time, let alone three more times. She merely said, "you don't have a choice."
It is true there are difficult things that we can't walk away from. But difficult teachings is another matter. I have friends who have left their faith behind because someone died, because someone didn't die soon enough, because they didn't like the priest, because the new hymns replaced old familiar ones, because the size/shape/ethnicity/sexuality of the congregation changed and they couldn't deal with it. Too many of them, confusing faith in the Christ with membership in a worshiping community, walked out.
Peter has the right of it in his answer to Jesus. Jesus asks, "do you also wish to go away?" and Peter answers, "Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God."
When people tell me they are leaving The Episcopal Church, the first question I ask is whether they have found another church. We humans need a church to help nurture and support our faith when it wobbles. If those who want to leave TEC haven't got somewhere else to go, I urge them not to leave. If they have found another community that is more nurturing and supportive, then I urge them to become a part of it with my blessing.
But the difficult teachings don't go away just because we change congregations or denominations. They are always there, poking and prodding us.
The teaching of Jesus is difficult, sometimes too difficult. That is when we turn to our brothers and sisters in faith. Sometimes all we need is their presence with us. Sometimes we need them to listen to our doubts and questions and help us come to understand better. After all, we are supposed to grow in faith, not rise from baptism fully formed. You don't teach a child to count from one to ten and then put them in an advanced calculus class.
But once we have come to believe, there really is nowhere else to go. Leaving doesn't help solve the difficult things. Staying might not, either, but choosing to stay means we have chosen to continue working on the hard teachings. And just because Jesus no longer walks among us teaching in parables doesn't mean the difficult teaching isn't still going on.
Difficult teaching makes us uncomfortable. It's supposed to. If we have made ourselves a cozy nest of our faith, a hammock that rocks us gently in the shade of the trees, then we are not working hard enough on being faithful. Reread the gospels. Go back and hear what Paul wrote while he sat in prison. Nowhere will you find Easy Street. Almost everywhere you will find challenges, obstacles, tests, hard teachings. Paul speaks of being a prisoner in the Lord. This is not an image of comfort yet it is a state of being that Paul relished.
So when the teaching is too hard, when there are obstacles in the road, turn to your church family. Ask the hard questions there. You will likely find that others are struggling with the same question.
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