(written afternoon of Friday 28 May, before i got to the internet cafe)
Things i had not done 15 hours ago but have done now:
1. Had a wake-up call in a hotel at 1.30am
2. Ridden a camel.
3. Climbed a mountain in the middle of the night.
4. Watched the sun rise from the top of Mt. Sinai.
5. climbed down a rock-slide that was supposedly stairs.
6. eaten an egg and cheese "omelet" prepared at a slightly sketchy but still "best-available" hotel in Egypt.
7. Bought my way into a closed monastery. (in all fairness, our leader bought the whole group in so I didn't actually do this, but still...)
8. Seen pages from the Codex Sinaiticus, a 4th century manuscript of the Bible, one of the most reliable manuscripts we have.
9. stayed in a resort with a pool complex but the jacuzzi not working.
10. looked out my hotel window and realized i was looking at the border between Egypt and Israel.
Tomorrow we head into Israel. Yay! The land of Jesus awaits. I can hardly wait to float in the Dead Sea, explore Galilee, and hang out in jerusalem. :-)
Saturday, May 29, 2004
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Petra, Jordan
I have just climbed about 2000 steps and seen some of the most beautiful views of the world. amazing. Petra is the "rose red city" because the sandstone is rosey colored. but it is also yellow and white and gray and blue and black and pink and all kinds of colors--I sound like Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. but it's true. it looks like a watercolor. but my legs are still tired!
I don't have much time, but the update is: I like Petra, here where supposedly Moses struck the rock and water gushed out. and tomorrow we head toward Sinai. tomorrow night we climb Jebel Musa, which is traditionally considered to be Mt. Sinai (you know, Moses and the ten commandments). There is camel riding involved in this, which I find very exciting. :-)
y'all be good until I get back!
I don't have much time, but the update is: I like Petra, here where supposedly Moses struck the rock and water gushed out. and tomorrow we head toward Sinai. tomorrow night we climb Jebel Musa, which is traditionally considered to be Mt. Sinai (you know, Moses and the ten commandments). There is camel riding involved in this, which I find very exciting. :-)
y'all be good until I get back!
Monday, May 24, 2004
Amman, Jordan
I've just finished a week in Syria, which was AMAZING. Lots of great people, big cities, desert, nice hotels, good food, shopping (but I've not bought anything!), mosques, castles, and roman ruins. lots of roman ruins. in fact, so many that they look very similar to me right now and therefore I am no longer taking photos of roman ruins that all look the same. differences that make the ruin: what are the columns made of? (some from Egyptian granite brought here from Aswan. some from marble. some from local stone.) how many temples? to whom? are there churches? is the stone white, red, or black? do people still live there? how long has it been an important site? (since the bronze age, or only since the bce/ce switch?)
In any case, we've looked at a lot of ruins. a lot. and there are more coming. but this weekend: climbing Mt. Sinai!! with camels!! then we swim in the Dead Sea! And on to Jerusalem, then a day at a resort island in Greece, then home. it sounds so quick, but it's two more weeks.
Amman is nice so far. Jordan is supposed to have great jewelry. we'll see if I come home with any. I'm trying to curb my materialism, so I've only bought postcards--which means i don't have to take as many pictures! we'll see how that goes.
anyway, that's all for now. good times in the middle east, where it's hot and we eat hummus twice a day. :-)
In any case, we've looked at a lot of ruins. a lot. and there are more coming. but this weekend: climbing Mt. Sinai!! with camels!! then we swim in the Dead Sea! And on to Jerusalem, then a day at a resort island in Greece, then home. it sounds so quick, but it's two more weeks.
Amman is nice so far. Jordan is supposed to have great jewelry. we'll see if I come home with any. I'm trying to curb my materialism, so I've only bought postcards--which means i don't have to take as many pictures! we'll see how that goes.
anyway, that's all for now. good times in the middle east, where it's hot and we eat hummus twice a day. :-)
Thursday, May 13, 2004
leaving, on a jet plane...
ok, so i haven't posted in forever. sorry. the end of the semester and the quick leaving afterwards has caught up with me. yes, i am a workaholic. so sue me. let he who is without sin cast the first stone, as jesus said.
anyway...i'm leaving for the middle east in four days. yes. on monday night, i will be on a plane to france that connects to Damascus. why, am i stupid? you might ask. well, maybe. i've certainly been feeling pretty dumb for going on a HUGE trip right at the end of school. in any case, i'm going to Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Egypt, Israel, and Greece. for three weeks. In a big group of seminarians and church people, so don't worry! well, ok, worry all you want, but remember that worrying changes nothing. prayer, on the other hand...well, i'm soliciting prayers for a good trip and for safety. and for jason. :-)
now that my internship is officially over we can tell people that we are dating. thank goodness! i've been wanting to post on my blog but can't because I do so much with jason that it would be bound to leak out. so anyway, now you know. all above board and everything. :-) he's worried about this trip, to say the least, so send him your happy thoughts. thanks!
ok, i'm off to lead a prayer group. you may not hear from me again until i get back...we return to the US June 7. perhaps i'll blog after that. i hope. watch, though, just in case i get a chance to drop a quick note from Jerusalem or Athens. how cool would that be? just saying...
right...going....
anyway...i'm leaving for the middle east in four days. yes. on monday night, i will be on a plane to france that connects to Damascus. why, am i stupid? you might ask. well, maybe. i've certainly been feeling pretty dumb for going on a HUGE trip right at the end of school. in any case, i'm going to Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, Egypt, Israel, and Greece. for three weeks. In a big group of seminarians and church people, so don't worry! well, ok, worry all you want, but remember that worrying changes nothing. prayer, on the other hand...well, i'm soliciting prayers for a good trip and for safety. and for jason. :-)
now that my internship is officially over we can tell people that we are dating. thank goodness! i've been wanting to post on my blog but can't because I do so much with jason that it would be bound to leak out. so anyway, now you know. all above board and everything. :-) he's worried about this trip, to say the least, so send him your happy thoughts. thanks!
ok, i'm off to lead a prayer group. you may not hear from me again until i get back...we return to the US June 7. perhaps i'll blog after that. i hope. watch, though, just in case i get a chance to drop a quick note from Jerusalem or Athens. how cool would that be? just saying...
right...going....
Sunday, May 02, 2004
The Lord Is My Shepherd
The Lord is My Shepherd (a sermon in 5 parts)
Psalm 23
CNCP
May 2 2004
Psalm 23.1-3 (Good News Version) “Lack Nothing”
It is not often that we can honestly say “I have everything I need.” In fact, it may not be something I’ve ever said in complete seriousness. Sure, at a restaurant I might have everything I want on the table, or at school I might have all the things I need to take notes. But are these my real “needs” and do I have all my needs supplied? As soon as we push on the word “everything” we start to think of new things. I need new shoes. I need a new dress. I need a vacation. I need a new car. I need this or that book or CD. I need to eat chocolate right now. As much as Jesus might tell us not to worry about tomorrow, for God will provide all that we need, it’s hard to say the first line of Psalm 23 and really mean it. The Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need. I am literally lacking in absolutely nothing that is necessary for me.
We all know that it is trite and irresponsible to say “if you just trust in God, everything will be provided for you.” No one wants to hear that. Saying “don’t worry, God will provide” sounds to Reformed ears like license to be lazy. It also makes you wonder—how much do I have to trust? How long do I have to wait? Do I do nothing until everything I need has dropped into my lap?
But think for a moment…what is it that you truly need? Is it new clothes or a haircut or a new CD? Or is it to know that God loves you and will never forsake you? Do you need more money, or do you need to be led to a quiet meadow where you can rest? Do you need to eat at a super-expensive restaurant to impress your friends and colleagues, or do you need to be drawn toward the springs of fresh water?
Anthony DeMello, who was a Jesuit priest in India, tells the story of a Quaker man who put up a sign on a vacant piece of land next to his home. The sign read: “This land will be given to anyone who is truly satisfied.” A wealthy farmer who was riding by stopped to read the sign and said to himself, “Since our friend the Quaker is so ready to part with this plot, I might as well claim it before someone else does. I am a rich man and have all I need, so I will certainly qualify.: With that, he went up to the door and explained what he was there for. “And are you truly satisfied?” The Quaker man asked. “I am, indeed, for I have everything I need,” the wealthy farmer replied. “Friend,” said the Quaker, “If you are satisfied, what do you want the land for?”
What do we want the land for? If we have everything we need, why do we always think we need more things?
Jesus said that he is the Good Shepherd. With the risen Lord as our shepherd, what more do we need? Jesus said “I am the bread of life.” Jesus said that he gives water that gushes up to eternal life. Indeed, all that we need will be provided—but “things” aren’t necessarily part of that. “stuff” quickly becomes an idol—it takes the place of God in our lives, and, unfortunately, it’s so easy to fall into this. And we can’t just say “I don’t need anything” because it’s not really true—we need food and water and shelter and clothing, we need education and community, but most of all we need God, without whom there would be no earth, no stuff, no breath of life. So we try to affirm that the risen Lord is our shepherd, and because we have died to sin with him and risen with him to new life, we will lack nothing—or at least, nothing that is ultimately important.
So we come together and declare that sometimes we think we need more things, forgetting that God is, in some sense, our “all in all.” We declare that what we do need is forgiveness. We come and pray together, in the sure and certain hope of the love of the one who laid down his life for his sheep. Let us pray together, using the prayer of confession printed in the bulletin.
God of hope and safety, like sheep who go astray, we have wandered from your paths of life and light. We have heard the Shepherd’s voice calling us by name, but we have turned instead to our own way. Show us your tender mercy; restore us in the security of your fold. Lead us back to still waters, seat us again at your bounteous table. Fill us with your Spirit, that we might bear glad witness to your saving mercy, revealed to us in the Great Shepherd, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
Beloved of God, hear these words of the psalmist: Happy are those whose transgressions are forgiven, for they shall be like trees planted by streams of living water. Friends, anyone who is in Christ is a new creation through these waters—believe the good news! In Jesus Christ, we are forgiven.
Psalm 23.1-3 pt. II “Paths of Righteousness”
One of the phrases often used in baptisms at my home church is “for the promise is unto you, and to your children, and all who are far off…as many as the Lord our God shall call.” In baptism the community recognizes that we are all God’s children, children of the covenant, children of the promise. Here the psalmist has reminded us that part of the promise is that God will lead us, God will guide us, God will be with us, and we are followers, we are disciples, we are sheep.
I don’t know how many of you have seen a flock of sheep. Sheep are often considered dumb animals, but they really aren’t, I promise. My grandfather had sheep when I was growing up, and I used to help him tend them. It’s very interesting, how the herder moves sheep from one place to another. Cows, as we all know from the movies (I used to watch Dr. Alley move his cows—it really works like this), are herded from behind. The cowherd rides around behind and the cows move in a group to wherever he or she wants them to go. Sheep, however, have to be led, because if you try to herd sheep from behind, they will scatter in a hundred directions. Instead, the shepherd goes ahead, to show the sheep that the way is safe. Sheep follow their shepherd, they know their shepherd, they trust that the way is right because the shepherd shows them that it is ok.
From the baptismal font we are led out by our good shepherd in the paths of righteousness. We follow in the right paths that God has promised to show us. We live as God’s chosen people, following the commands to love God and our neighbor. Righteousness means “to be in right relationship with.” So the paths of righteousness are paths that lead us into right relationship with God and our neighbor. And so we will walk in the path that seeks justice and pursues peace, for we are to follow Christ’s example to love one another, and we go out into the world to share the good news. As children of the promise, we have received grace upon grace, and we follow in the paths of righteousness. And so, as we are God’s reconciled children, those who seek right relationship with God and one another, let us share the peace of Christ.
Psalm 23.1-4 (New International Version) “You Are With Me”
The valley of the shadow of death sounds like something we’re probably going to avoid, don’t you think? Not exactly the big vacation hot spot this year. Death is something we fear in our culture, something to be avoided or put off, something that is generally a tragedy. The shadow of death is dark indeed, which is why some translations of this say “even though I walk through the darkest valley.” What is the darkest valley? Is death the darkest thing? To suffer from a long illness? To be the victim of a crime? To lose a loved one? To be completely unable to have a good hope for the future?
Whatever is the darkest valley, the psalmist claims that there is no fear there because we know that God is with us. No fear? I am reminded of all the times in Scripture when an Angel of the Lord meets one of God’s people. The first word the angel says is always “Do not be afraid.” In Isaiah God says to the people, who are in exile, “do not fear, I am with you…I am your God…I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my right hand.” Exile seems like it’s probably a dark valley—to be taken away from everything you know, plopped in the middle of Babylon, and forced into labor, all the time wondering about those who were left behind, about the status of the temple, about where God is in the midst of this.
How often we are in exile—we wonder about things we have left behind, we wonder what the status of our church is, we wonder what to do about war and sickness and fear and hunger, we wonder where God is in the midst of our pain and the pain of the world. And we get these good words from the Lord: “Do not fear, I am with you, I am your God, I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my right hand.” And we gather together every Sunday and proclaim that the things we so often feel control our destiny really don’t, because Jesus the Christ was raised from the dead. In the resurrection, death as the determiner of our lives, as something to be feared as the ultimate end, as the thing that holds power over us, has been shattered. The valley of the shadow of death maybe isn’t so dark after all, because we have hope—hope in the Risen Lord that death is not the final say; instead God has the final say and God is the God of the living, not of the dead. The grave holds no power, death has no victory, for we are an Easter people. Because of this hope, we believe that the dark valleys need not be feared—which is why we pray. We pray for light in dark places, in the darkness of hunger and war and despair and illness and loss. We pray for healing, because healing doesn’t always mean what we think it means. We pray for hope and for strength to keep walking, even through the hard places. The staff of the Good Shepherd is our guide, our comfort, and our strength, for Jesus has been in the hard places… Gethsemane, Golgotha, hell.
So indeed we shall fear not, for Jesus promised to be with us, even to the end of the age. God is indeed with us, fulfilling God’s promises. Even in the darkest valleys, there is a glimmer—of resurrection hope, of Easter morning sunrise.
Psalm 23.1-5 (New Revised Standard Version) “A Table and Cup”
Most of us have hosted a dinner party of some kind—for a few friends, for the family at Thanksgiving, for a large party, or just a special dinner for the two of us. It’s a lot of work to get ready for a dinner party. There’s the setting of the table, making it look pretty, figuring out how the silverware goes, whose glass is who’s, etc. There’s figuring out the menu. Are we going vegetarian tonight, or having chicken? Are we having rice or pasta? What kind of vegetables, what kind of bread, which kind of wine goes best with this menu?…it can be very complicated. Then, there’s the actual cooking, and the cleaning, and finally we enjoy the meal.
Jesus spent a lot of time eating, but usually it was at someone else’s house. Remember how he dined with tax collectors and sinners? Remember how he invited himself to Zacchaeus’ house for dinner? Remember how he told the story of the banquet given by the king, where the invited guests wouldn’t come so the beautifully prepared feast was opened to everyone who happened to wander by, and some who were sought out in the dark alleys and abandoned buildings? Only once in the gospel story is he the host—at the Last Supper (which, by the way, the disciples prepared and was hosted at someone else’s house…he simply presided over the Passover ritual). And, of course, here at this table, he has prepared it for us. God prepares the table for us—it lacks nothing.
God has a history of providing abundance in the midst of our perceived scarcity. In the wilderness, God provided the Israelites with food every day for forty years. God also has a history of providing abundance in the midst of our perceived abundance that is really lacking. In Isaiah God invites all who hunger and thirst to come to the waters, to come buy wine and milk and bread without money, to feast on the good things which God has prepared rather than on those things that are not what we need. Jesus teaches us to pray for our daily bread, trusting that tomorrow we will still lack nothing.
This table has been provided by God, in the midst of our lives. We have been invited to a royal dinner party, hosted by the King of Kings…not because we are worthy but because God loves us and is with us, God has claimed us in baptism and has anointed us with oil. And the cup which we bless does indeed run over—for this is a true feast, where the wine never runs out, there are always 7 baskets of bread left over, and those who hunger and thirst are filled with good things.
This dinner party required much preparation, just like any other dinner party. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, Jesus ate with sinners and outcasts, healed the sick and made the wounded whole, taught and prayed. He was tortured and crucified and raised from the dead. All in preparation for this dinner party. Then, of course, someone in this congregation had to get the bread, the wine, and the grape juice. Someone had to fill the cups and set the table. Someone had to write a communion liturgy. Someone had to go through years of education and examination in order to stand behind that table. And we all had to come to this place this morning—the guests who were not necessarily the first invited, but those who were brought in because the doors are so wide open. Indeed, this dinner party required much preparation—but now we are all guests, not the busy hosts, and we are seated around this table, each in a place of honor…the table, which lacks nothing, has been prepared for us. We have been washed, we have been claimed as God’s own, and the cup of blessing overflows.
Psalm 23.1-6 (King James Version) “Shall Follow Me…Out From This Place”
I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. What an affirmation. What a statement of trust. What a relief for the psalmist, who one poem before this one was so sure she had been forsaken by the Lord. From “why have you forsaken me” to “I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever” is quite a leap.
Jesus said to his frightened disciples, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms—I go to prepare a place for you.” How great to live in the house of the Lord forever! Wait…in the Old Testament, the House of the Lord meant the Temple. Do we want to dwell in the Temple forever? Do we want to dwell in the church building forever? Maybe not…that’s where the goodness and mercy come in. The Lord is our shepherd…he leads us to green pastures and still waters…he is with us so that we do not need to be afraid…he has fed us with good things here at the table he has prepared…and now goodness and mercy shall follow us forever. In order for goodness and mercy to follow us, we have to go somewhere. So we go out from this place, and goodness and mercy follow us wherever we go, and we still dwell in the house of the Lord. We all know that the church is not the building, the body of Christ is not just one person—the house of the Lord is indeed great, beyond our imaginings.
So, friends, as we go out we share the goodness and mercy of our Lord with all whom we meet. It’s hard to share when your cup is empty. But here we have all been filled, even to overflowing, so we can share with those whose cups run dry. We can say in all honesty that our needs are met, that we are fed, that we need not be afraid, that indeed our cups run over with goodness and mercy.
The Lord is our shepherd, he leads us in his paths, and we follow. And the goodness and mercy of our Lord follow us wherever we go.
And so we must go out, and we must share the good news, and we know that the psalmist’s amazing affirmation of faith is one we too can use. We leave this place but we do not leave the love of God behind. We leave this place, but we follow our shepherd. We leave this place, and surely goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our lives here and there, and we shall indeed dwell in God’s house forever and ever. Amen.
Psalm 23
CNCP
May 2 2004
Psalm 23.1-3 (Good News Version) “Lack Nothing”
It is not often that we can honestly say “I have everything I need.” In fact, it may not be something I’ve ever said in complete seriousness. Sure, at a restaurant I might have everything I want on the table, or at school I might have all the things I need to take notes. But are these my real “needs” and do I have all my needs supplied? As soon as we push on the word “everything” we start to think of new things. I need new shoes. I need a new dress. I need a vacation. I need a new car. I need this or that book or CD. I need to eat chocolate right now. As much as Jesus might tell us not to worry about tomorrow, for God will provide all that we need, it’s hard to say the first line of Psalm 23 and really mean it. The Lord is my shepherd, I have everything I need. I am literally lacking in absolutely nothing that is necessary for me.
We all know that it is trite and irresponsible to say “if you just trust in God, everything will be provided for you.” No one wants to hear that. Saying “don’t worry, God will provide” sounds to Reformed ears like license to be lazy. It also makes you wonder—how much do I have to trust? How long do I have to wait? Do I do nothing until everything I need has dropped into my lap?
But think for a moment…what is it that you truly need? Is it new clothes or a haircut or a new CD? Or is it to know that God loves you and will never forsake you? Do you need more money, or do you need to be led to a quiet meadow where you can rest? Do you need to eat at a super-expensive restaurant to impress your friends and colleagues, or do you need to be drawn toward the springs of fresh water?
Anthony DeMello, who was a Jesuit priest in India, tells the story of a Quaker man who put up a sign on a vacant piece of land next to his home. The sign read: “This land will be given to anyone who is truly satisfied.” A wealthy farmer who was riding by stopped to read the sign and said to himself, “Since our friend the Quaker is so ready to part with this plot, I might as well claim it before someone else does. I am a rich man and have all I need, so I will certainly qualify.: With that, he went up to the door and explained what he was there for. “And are you truly satisfied?” The Quaker man asked. “I am, indeed, for I have everything I need,” the wealthy farmer replied. “Friend,” said the Quaker, “If you are satisfied, what do you want the land for?”
What do we want the land for? If we have everything we need, why do we always think we need more things?
Jesus said that he is the Good Shepherd. With the risen Lord as our shepherd, what more do we need? Jesus said “I am the bread of life.” Jesus said that he gives water that gushes up to eternal life. Indeed, all that we need will be provided—but “things” aren’t necessarily part of that. “stuff” quickly becomes an idol—it takes the place of God in our lives, and, unfortunately, it’s so easy to fall into this. And we can’t just say “I don’t need anything” because it’s not really true—we need food and water and shelter and clothing, we need education and community, but most of all we need God, without whom there would be no earth, no stuff, no breath of life. So we try to affirm that the risen Lord is our shepherd, and because we have died to sin with him and risen with him to new life, we will lack nothing—or at least, nothing that is ultimately important.
So we come together and declare that sometimes we think we need more things, forgetting that God is, in some sense, our “all in all.” We declare that what we do need is forgiveness. We come and pray together, in the sure and certain hope of the love of the one who laid down his life for his sheep. Let us pray together, using the prayer of confession printed in the bulletin.
God of hope and safety, like sheep who go astray, we have wandered from your paths of life and light. We have heard the Shepherd’s voice calling us by name, but we have turned instead to our own way. Show us your tender mercy; restore us in the security of your fold. Lead us back to still waters, seat us again at your bounteous table. Fill us with your Spirit, that we might bear glad witness to your saving mercy, revealed to us in the Great Shepherd, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
Beloved of God, hear these words of the psalmist: Happy are those whose transgressions are forgiven, for they shall be like trees planted by streams of living water. Friends, anyone who is in Christ is a new creation through these waters—believe the good news! In Jesus Christ, we are forgiven.
Psalm 23.1-3 pt. II “Paths of Righteousness”
One of the phrases often used in baptisms at my home church is “for the promise is unto you, and to your children, and all who are far off…as many as the Lord our God shall call.” In baptism the community recognizes that we are all God’s children, children of the covenant, children of the promise. Here the psalmist has reminded us that part of the promise is that God will lead us, God will guide us, God will be with us, and we are followers, we are disciples, we are sheep.
I don’t know how many of you have seen a flock of sheep. Sheep are often considered dumb animals, but they really aren’t, I promise. My grandfather had sheep when I was growing up, and I used to help him tend them. It’s very interesting, how the herder moves sheep from one place to another. Cows, as we all know from the movies (I used to watch Dr. Alley move his cows—it really works like this), are herded from behind. The cowherd rides around behind and the cows move in a group to wherever he or she wants them to go. Sheep, however, have to be led, because if you try to herd sheep from behind, they will scatter in a hundred directions. Instead, the shepherd goes ahead, to show the sheep that the way is safe. Sheep follow their shepherd, they know their shepherd, they trust that the way is right because the shepherd shows them that it is ok.
From the baptismal font we are led out by our good shepherd in the paths of righteousness. We follow in the right paths that God has promised to show us. We live as God’s chosen people, following the commands to love God and our neighbor. Righteousness means “to be in right relationship with.” So the paths of righteousness are paths that lead us into right relationship with God and our neighbor. And so we will walk in the path that seeks justice and pursues peace, for we are to follow Christ’s example to love one another, and we go out into the world to share the good news. As children of the promise, we have received grace upon grace, and we follow in the paths of righteousness. And so, as we are God’s reconciled children, those who seek right relationship with God and one another, let us share the peace of Christ.
Psalm 23.1-4 (New International Version) “You Are With Me”
The valley of the shadow of death sounds like something we’re probably going to avoid, don’t you think? Not exactly the big vacation hot spot this year. Death is something we fear in our culture, something to be avoided or put off, something that is generally a tragedy. The shadow of death is dark indeed, which is why some translations of this say “even though I walk through the darkest valley.” What is the darkest valley? Is death the darkest thing? To suffer from a long illness? To be the victim of a crime? To lose a loved one? To be completely unable to have a good hope for the future?
Whatever is the darkest valley, the psalmist claims that there is no fear there because we know that God is with us. No fear? I am reminded of all the times in Scripture when an Angel of the Lord meets one of God’s people. The first word the angel says is always “Do not be afraid.” In Isaiah God says to the people, who are in exile, “do not fear, I am with you…I am your God…I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my right hand.” Exile seems like it’s probably a dark valley—to be taken away from everything you know, plopped in the middle of Babylon, and forced into labor, all the time wondering about those who were left behind, about the status of the temple, about where God is in the midst of this.
How often we are in exile—we wonder about things we have left behind, we wonder what the status of our church is, we wonder what to do about war and sickness and fear and hunger, we wonder where God is in the midst of our pain and the pain of the world. And we get these good words from the Lord: “Do not fear, I am with you, I am your God, I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my right hand.” And we gather together every Sunday and proclaim that the things we so often feel control our destiny really don’t, because Jesus the Christ was raised from the dead. In the resurrection, death as the determiner of our lives, as something to be feared as the ultimate end, as the thing that holds power over us, has been shattered. The valley of the shadow of death maybe isn’t so dark after all, because we have hope—hope in the Risen Lord that death is not the final say; instead God has the final say and God is the God of the living, not of the dead. The grave holds no power, death has no victory, for we are an Easter people. Because of this hope, we believe that the dark valleys need not be feared—which is why we pray. We pray for light in dark places, in the darkness of hunger and war and despair and illness and loss. We pray for healing, because healing doesn’t always mean what we think it means. We pray for hope and for strength to keep walking, even through the hard places. The staff of the Good Shepherd is our guide, our comfort, and our strength, for Jesus has been in the hard places… Gethsemane, Golgotha, hell.
So indeed we shall fear not, for Jesus promised to be with us, even to the end of the age. God is indeed with us, fulfilling God’s promises. Even in the darkest valleys, there is a glimmer—of resurrection hope, of Easter morning sunrise.
Psalm 23.1-5 (New Revised Standard Version) “A Table and Cup”
Most of us have hosted a dinner party of some kind—for a few friends, for the family at Thanksgiving, for a large party, or just a special dinner for the two of us. It’s a lot of work to get ready for a dinner party. There’s the setting of the table, making it look pretty, figuring out how the silverware goes, whose glass is who’s, etc. There’s figuring out the menu. Are we going vegetarian tonight, or having chicken? Are we having rice or pasta? What kind of vegetables, what kind of bread, which kind of wine goes best with this menu?…it can be very complicated. Then, there’s the actual cooking, and the cleaning, and finally we enjoy the meal.
Jesus spent a lot of time eating, but usually it was at someone else’s house. Remember how he dined with tax collectors and sinners? Remember how he invited himself to Zacchaeus’ house for dinner? Remember how he told the story of the banquet given by the king, where the invited guests wouldn’t come so the beautifully prepared feast was opened to everyone who happened to wander by, and some who were sought out in the dark alleys and abandoned buildings? Only once in the gospel story is he the host—at the Last Supper (which, by the way, the disciples prepared and was hosted at someone else’s house…he simply presided over the Passover ritual). And, of course, here at this table, he has prepared it for us. God prepares the table for us—it lacks nothing.
God has a history of providing abundance in the midst of our perceived scarcity. In the wilderness, God provided the Israelites with food every day for forty years. God also has a history of providing abundance in the midst of our perceived abundance that is really lacking. In Isaiah God invites all who hunger and thirst to come to the waters, to come buy wine and milk and bread without money, to feast on the good things which God has prepared rather than on those things that are not what we need. Jesus teaches us to pray for our daily bread, trusting that tomorrow we will still lack nothing.
This table has been provided by God, in the midst of our lives. We have been invited to a royal dinner party, hosted by the King of Kings…not because we are worthy but because God loves us and is with us, God has claimed us in baptism and has anointed us with oil. And the cup which we bless does indeed run over—for this is a true feast, where the wine never runs out, there are always 7 baskets of bread left over, and those who hunger and thirst are filled with good things.
This dinner party required much preparation, just like any other dinner party. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, Jesus ate with sinners and outcasts, healed the sick and made the wounded whole, taught and prayed. He was tortured and crucified and raised from the dead. All in preparation for this dinner party. Then, of course, someone in this congregation had to get the bread, the wine, and the grape juice. Someone had to fill the cups and set the table. Someone had to write a communion liturgy. Someone had to go through years of education and examination in order to stand behind that table. And we all had to come to this place this morning—the guests who were not necessarily the first invited, but those who were brought in because the doors are so wide open. Indeed, this dinner party required much preparation—but now we are all guests, not the busy hosts, and we are seated around this table, each in a place of honor…the table, which lacks nothing, has been prepared for us. We have been washed, we have been claimed as God’s own, and the cup of blessing overflows.
Psalm 23.1-6 (King James Version) “Shall Follow Me…Out From This Place”
I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. What an affirmation. What a statement of trust. What a relief for the psalmist, who one poem before this one was so sure she had been forsaken by the Lord. From “why have you forsaken me” to “I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever” is quite a leap.
Jesus said to his frightened disciples, “In my Father’s house there are many rooms—I go to prepare a place for you.” How great to live in the house of the Lord forever! Wait…in the Old Testament, the House of the Lord meant the Temple. Do we want to dwell in the Temple forever? Do we want to dwell in the church building forever? Maybe not…that’s where the goodness and mercy come in. The Lord is our shepherd…he leads us to green pastures and still waters…he is with us so that we do not need to be afraid…he has fed us with good things here at the table he has prepared…and now goodness and mercy shall follow us forever. In order for goodness and mercy to follow us, we have to go somewhere. So we go out from this place, and goodness and mercy follow us wherever we go, and we still dwell in the house of the Lord. We all know that the church is not the building, the body of Christ is not just one person—the house of the Lord is indeed great, beyond our imaginings.
So, friends, as we go out we share the goodness and mercy of our Lord with all whom we meet. It’s hard to share when your cup is empty. But here we have all been filled, even to overflowing, so we can share with those whose cups run dry. We can say in all honesty that our needs are met, that we are fed, that we need not be afraid, that indeed our cups run over with goodness and mercy.
The Lord is our shepherd, he leads us in his paths, and we follow. And the goodness and mercy of our Lord follow us wherever we go.
And so we must go out, and we must share the good news, and we know that the psalmist’s amazing affirmation of faith is one we too can use. We leave this place but we do not leave the love of God behind. We leave this place, but we follow our shepherd. We leave this place, and surely goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our lives here and there, and we shall indeed dwell in God’s house forever and ever. Amen.
Sunday, April 18, 2004
AWE
AWE
John 20.19-31, Revelation 1.4-8
CNCP
April 18 2004
John 20.19-31
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.
But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those ho have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
Revelation 1.4-8
John to the seven churches that are in Asia: Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.
To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.
Look! He is coming with the clouds;
every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him;
and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail.
So it is to be. Amen.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.
All week long I’ve had people tell me not to preach on this text. “Preach on Thomas,” they say. “Revelation is just a weird book,” “There’s nothing in there to grab on to,” and “you must be crazy” have been common comments. Some people choose to gloss over the entire book, pretending it isn’t in the Bible. Some consider it more like entertainment—a good novel, a Kevin Smith movie. Some say “it’s only a subversive political text, not a religious one.” And occasionally I would just say “I’m preaching on the Alpha and Omega passage” and people would say, “oh, won’t that be nice.”
Well, it’s not been easy. In fact, I really have no idea what to say. Here we have the gospel in a nutshell: Jesus died for our sins and will come again. God is all encompassing. What more do we need? I almost feel like I should just read the text again, then sit down because there’s not a lot I can add to the Word of God this week. Unfortunately, preachers aren’t often allowed to do that. So instead I’ve avoided the task, I’ve done everything else, until there’s nothing left to do. My room is clean, my cat is fed, I’ve even taken a nap. I have exhausted every avoidance tactic I can dream up.
And so we face Revelation together…and do what with it exactly? Sure, it’s a subversive political book. Sure, it’s weird. Sure, it often reads like a Steven King novel or a script from a sci-fi TV show. But it’s also the Word of the Lord and it’s here for a reason. The lectionary allows us to skip a lot of unpleasantness in the Bible, including the vast majority of the Book of Revelation. So really, I should be grateful that I’ve got the Alpha and Omega rather than a vision of scrolls and bowls and horses and trumpets and fire and plagues. At least we didn’t just read chapter 12 about the woman giving birth to a male child as a dragon waits to eat the child immediately.
This is small consolation when everyone around me is telling me this is impossible. Thankfully, nothing is impossible for God.
Last week we celebrated an impossibility—the resurrection—with singing, bells, flowers, and joy. This week, though it may not seem like it from this text, we are still celebrating the resurrection. Easter is a season, not a day—a 50 day season, to be exact. We will celebrate the resurrection until Pentecost, and hopefully we’ll continue to remember that God raised this Jesus from the dead even after Pentecost. As John tells us here, in Jesus God freed us from our sins and made us to be a kingdom. This is what a friend of mine referred to as the “whole gospel, everything you need to know about Jesus.” While I don’t think that’s quite true, because Jesus’ life was pretty important, I do think this tells us a lot in a short space. But it tells us about ourselves as the church, not about Jesus. Here we are told that we have been freed from our sins. We, the church—which John calls the kingdom on earth, the priestly community serving God at all times—have been freed from sin. We are not expected to be innocent, for none can be innocent of sin. Instead we are expected to remember that we have been forgiven. We are not the innocent community but the forgiven one. We still make mistakes, we still wonder what it’s all about, we still fail…but we also confess, and we accept forgiveness. And so, with John, we frame our lives in the doxology: to God be the glory forever and ever! John has begun his letter to the seven churches in Asia with worship, not with analytical concepts, not with a set of doctrines, not with something we are required to believe, but with a statement that all the glory belongs to God.
It’s easy to ascribe all the glory to God on Easter Sunday. The church is full, the bells are tolling, the Halelujah chorus rings in our ears. Christ is Alive! But the Sunday after Easter…the low Sunday…it’s a little harder now. We’re still singing joyful easter hymns, still proclaiming “Christ is Risen!”, still looking at lilies…but we’ve moved on. We may have, in fact, moved right back to being in charge of our own lives. A good grade on an exam, praise received at work, compliments from a stranger on the street, and we generally ascribe the glory to ourselves. I do it all the time—I admit that when I got my theology midterm back this week, it made my day and I congratulated myself and boasted for hours before remembering how hard I’d prayed that I could remember all the things I needed to remember, before I thought to stop and be thankful that God had helped me be alert while I studied and while I wrote answers to case study questions. Glory to God forever…except when I want to feel that I did all the work myself. Glory to God forever and ever…as long as it means that I can boast about how great I am forever and ever too.
Sadly, that’s not what it says. What it does say is “to the one who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.” That “amen” is supposed to be our assent, our “may it be so” to the preceding statement: to him be glory and dominion forever and ever.
It sounds almost as if John is showing us the appropriate response to God’s presence with us. Remember in Isaiah that when Isaiah encounters God, he falls on his face and says “woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips and I serve a people of unclean lips, yet I have seen the Lord.” That kind of response is part of this one John describes. Remember when Mary saw the risen Lord early in the morning and she was weeping and scared? That is part of the response too. Remember when the disciples were locked in their room, and Jesus appeared to them, and Thomas said “My Lord and my God!”…that too is part of this response. John here is calling us to a response of awe—of acknowledgment of mystery, of dominion, of glory, of power and might and all-encompassing-ness.
We can’t understand how it is that Jesus was raised from the dead…Easter is a mystery for us, one we approach with fear and trembling, with faith and hope, with a complete lack of clarity. How did Jesus appear inside locked doors? Why didn’t people always recognize Jesus right away? How does Jesus’ blood pay for our sins? How are we a holy priesthood, a royal nation, when we are so clearly still sinners? How do we live as a forgiven community? All this unclarity is something we run from—we want explanations, we want black and white, we want answers. But Easter isn’t going to give them to us. All we are going to get from Easter is a command to be in awe, to acknowledge mystery, to give glory to God.
God says “I am the Alpha and the Omega.” In the English alphabet that’s God saying “I am A and Z”—God is the beginning and the end, and thereby encompasses all that is in between. God is and God was and God is to come—God is all the tenses. If you look at the front of your bulletin you’ll see the Greek letters Alpha and Omega. The New Testament is written primarily in lower case letters, like those you see on the bottom right of the cover. You notice that Alpha and Omega look rather like an A and a W? Next time you see and A or a W, remember that they make up the word “AWE” and think of your response to the God who is and was and is to come. Think of the mystery of a God that surrounds all things before and after us. Think of the one who made us a forgiven community. Think of the one to whom all glory and dominion are to be given. And allow space for the mystery, for awe, for a little gray area…and remember always that even when we doubt, God comes among us to help us believe and offers us peace. And so, with John, we look—we look at the glory of the Lord and we stand in awe. We can only have one response: to shout out “My Lord and my God!” Amen.
John 20.19-31, Revelation 1.4-8
CNCP
April 18 2004
John 20.19-31
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.
But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those ho have not seen and yet have come to believe.”
Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.
Revelation 1.4-8
John to the seven churches that are in Asia: Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.
To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.
Look! He is coming with the clouds;
every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him;
and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail.
So it is to be. Amen.
“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.
All week long I’ve had people tell me not to preach on this text. “Preach on Thomas,” they say. “Revelation is just a weird book,” “There’s nothing in there to grab on to,” and “you must be crazy” have been common comments. Some people choose to gloss over the entire book, pretending it isn’t in the Bible. Some consider it more like entertainment—a good novel, a Kevin Smith movie. Some say “it’s only a subversive political text, not a religious one.” And occasionally I would just say “I’m preaching on the Alpha and Omega passage” and people would say, “oh, won’t that be nice.”
Well, it’s not been easy. In fact, I really have no idea what to say. Here we have the gospel in a nutshell: Jesus died for our sins and will come again. God is all encompassing. What more do we need? I almost feel like I should just read the text again, then sit down because there’s not a lot I can add to the Word of God this week. Unfortunately, preachers aren’t often allowed to do that. So instead I’ve avoided the task, I’ve done everything else, until there’s nothing left to do. My room is clean, my cat is fed, I’ve even taken a nap. I have exhausted every avoidance tactic I can dream up.
And so we face Revelation together…and do what with it exactly? Sure, it’s a subversive political book. Sure, it’s weird. Sure, it often reads like a Steven King novel or a script from a sci-fi TV show. But it’s also the Word of the Lord and it’s here for a reason. The lectionary allows us to skip a lot of unpleasantness in the Bible, including the vast majority of the Book of Revelation. So really, I should be grateful that I’ve got the Alpha and Omega rather than a vision of scrolls and bowls and horses and trumpets and fire and plagues. At least we didn’t just read chapter 12 about the woman giving birth to a male child as a dragon waits to eat the child immediately.
This is small consolation when everyone around me is telling me this is impossible. Thankfully, nothing is impossible for God.
Last week we celebrated an impossibility—the resurrection—with singing, bells, flowers, and joy. This week, though it may not seem like it from this text, we are still celebrating the resurrection. Easter is a season, not a day—a 50 day season, to be exact. We will celebrate the resurrection until Pentecost, and hopefully we’ll continue to remember that God raised this Jesus from the dead even after Pentecost. As John tells us here, in Jesus God freed us from our sins and made us to be a kingdom. This is what a friend of mine referred to as the “whole gospel, everything you need to know about Jesus.” While I don’t think that’s quite true, because Jesus’ life was pretty important, I do think this tells us a lot in a short space. But it tells us about ourselves as the church, not about Jesus. Here we are told that we have been freed from our sins. We, the church—which John calls the kingdom on earth, the priestly community serving God at all times—have been freed from sin. We are not expected to be innocent, for none can be innocent of sin. Instead we are expected to remember that we have been forgiven. We are not the innocent community but the forgiven one. We still make mistakes, we still wonder what it’s all about, we still fail…but we also confess, and we accept forgiveness. And so, with John, we frame our lives in the doxology: to God be the glory forever and ever! John has begun his letter to the seven churches in Asia with worship, not with analytical concepts, not with a set of doctrines, not with something we are required to believe, but with a statement that all the glory belongs to God.
It’s easy to ascribe all the glory to God on Easter Sunday. The church is full, the bells are tolling, the Halelujah chorus rings in our ears. Christ is Alive! But the Sunday after Easter…the low Sunday…it’s a little harder now. We’re still singing joyful easter hymns, still proclaiming “Christ is Risen!”, still looking at lilies…but we’ve moved on. We may have, in fact, moved right back to being in charge of our own lives. A good grade on an exam, praise received at work, compliments from a stranger on the street, and we generally ascribe the glory to ourselves. I do it all the time—I admit that when I got my theology midterm back this week, it made my day and I congratulated myself and boasted for hours before remembering how hard I’d prayed that I could remember all the things I needed to remember, before I thought to stop and be thankful that God had helped me be alert while I studied and while I wrote answers to case study questions. Glory to God forever…except when I want to feel that I did all the work myself. Glory to God forever and ever…as long as it means that I can boast about how great I am forever and ever too.
Sadly, that’s not what it says. What it does say is “to the one who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.” That “amen” is supposed to be our assent, our “may it be so” to the preceding statement: to him be glory and dominion forever and ever.
It sounds almost as if John is showing us the appropriate response to God’s presence with us. Remember in Isaiah that when Isaiah encounters God, he falls on his face and says “woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips and I serve a people of unclean lips, yet I have seen the Lord.” That kind of response is part of this one John describes. Remember when Mary saw the risen Lord early in the morning and she was weeping and scared? That is part of the response too. Remember when the disciples were locked in their room, and Jesus appeared to them, and Thomas said “My Lord and my God!”…that too is part of this response. John here is calling us to a response of awe—of acknowledgment of mystery, of dominion, of glory, of power and might and all-encompassing-ness.
We can’t understand how it is that Jesus was raised from the dead…Easter is a mystery for us, one we approach with fear and trembling, with faith and hope, with a complete lack of clarity. How did Jesus appear inside locked doors? Why didn’t people always recognize Jesus right away? How does Jesus’ blood pay for our sins? How are we a holy priesthood, a royal nation, when we are so clearly still sinners? How do we live as a forgiven community? All this unclarity is something we run from—we want explanations, we want black and white, we want answers. But Easter isn’t going to give them to us. All we are going to get from Easter is a command to be in awe, to acknowledge mystery, to give glory to God.
God says “I am the Alpha and the Omega.” In the English alphabet that’s God saying “I am A and Z”—God is the beginning and the end, and thereby encompasses all that is in between. God is and God was and God is to come—God is all the tenses. If you look at the front of your bulletin you’ll see the Greek letters Alpha and Omega. The New Testament is written primarily in lower case letters, like those you see on the bottom right of the cover. You notice that Alpha and Omega look rather like an A and a W? Next time you see and A or a W, remember that they make up the word “AWE” and think of your response to the God who is and was and is to come. Think of the mystery of a God that surrounds all things before and after us. Think of the one who made us a forgiven community. Think of the one to whom all glory and dominion are to be given. And allow space for the mystery, for awe, for a little gray area…and remember always that even when we doubt, God comes among us to help us believe and offers us peace. And so, with John, we look—we look at the glory of the Lord and we stand in awe. We can only have one response: to shout out “My Lord and my God!” Amen.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
yeah...
well, yeah. that's all i have to say. if the president can use that as an answer to a reporter's question, i can use it to describe my day.
i'm tired. colloquium went really well for us, though the workshops were less than exciting. there were some logistical difficulties, and i wished the keynoter had had more time, but our worship experiences were great. and i got to have lunch with two fab women two days in a row.
i have to do some homework, figure out a bible study, and write a sermon. by, oh, tonight.
must go. ta.
happy eastertide!
i'm tired. colloquium went really well for us, though the workshops were less than exciting. there were some logistical difficulties, and i wished the keynoter had had more time, but our worship experiences were great. and i got to have lunch with two fab women two days in a row.
i have to do some homework, figure out a bible study, and write a sermon. by, oh, tonight.
must go. ta.
happy eastertide!
Sunday, April 11, 2004
It is 6am
It is 6am and I am at church. Ah, Easter Sunday.
Christ is Risen...he is risen indeed.....apparently without the help of Starbucks.
how? how is it possible for Jesus to have been dead three days and then just get up without so much as a nonfat vanilla latte? I need one pretty desperately. or maybe a caramel macchiato. at the very least, some chai. and a muffin.
early in the morning, on the first day of the week...he was not there (because he was out looking for an independent coffee shop, maybe. jesus probably doesn't patronize such world-dominating non-eco-friendly corporations as starbucks.).
happy easter!
Christ is Risen...he is risen indeed.....apparently without the help of Starbucks.
how? how is it possible for Jesus to have been dead three days and then just get up without so much as a nonfat vanilla latte? I need one pretty desperately. or maybe a caramel macchiato. at the very least, some chai. and a muffin.
early in the morning, on the first day of the week...he was not there (because he was out looking for an independent coffee shop, maybe. jesus probably doesn't patronize such world-dominating non-eco-friendly corporations as starbucks.).
happy easter!
Thursday, April 08, 2004
it has begun
normally during Holy Week one hears an abundance of "it is finished." Well, for me, it has begun. The attempt to raise $12,000 for my year abroad has begun. The end of the semester has begun. The four holy days of the Christian calendar (Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday) have begun. The planning and stressing and fidgeting and thinking and wondering has begun. (not that I wasn't doing any of those things before, just now they have begun in earnest.) (side note: I think the word "earnest" deserves to be used more. just saying. end side note.)
well, i must eat something. soon. what shall I eat, I wonder?
hmm...
well, i must eat something. soon. what shall I eat, I wonder?
hmm...
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
holy week
well, it's holy week. holy week is a weird time for me to be away from Fourth Church. I like going to church every day during holy week. but not this holy week. i will go on thursday night, friday noon, saturday night, and sunday morning (very early and at 11) but there's something about the noon-service journey through the week that i really like and miss.
oh well....it just means i'm slightly moody this week. it happens.
perhaps i'll cheer up with some ice cream, some brownies, and some hot tub.
happy ICW!
oh well....it just means i'm slightly moody this week. it happens.
perhaps i'll cheer up with some ice cream, some brownies, and some hot tub.
happy ICW!
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
just noticed...
how long it's been since i read the Onion.
I should get on that.
Or maybe I should get on the theology reading.
quite the toss-up.
I should get on that.
Or maybe I should get on the theology reading.
quite the toss-up.
so i was planning on leaving at 4....
I was going to leave work at 4 today. it's now 4:38 and I'm still here. this is the first non-work thing i've done in several hours (very impressive, given how my attention span has been going lately). it must be the skittles.
if I eat any more skittles, i'll throw up. bleah......
but i really need some Dr. Pepper.
I'm going now.
if I eat any more skittles, i'll throw up. bleah......
but i really need some Dr. Pepper.
I'm going now.
Monday, March 29, 2004
i may appear to be a slacker, but really...
...i'm just very busy. we had a lock-in this weekend. was very busy getting ready, staying up all night, then sleeping all day (after playing the clarinet in worship--oy).
still tired. still want nap. still have obscene amounts of homework to do. need a vacation. not going to get one. ever.
but i am going to the middle east. and i am going to scotland. and i very nearly typed "ai" instead of "i" which would be my new-found southern accent (which accidentally came out in class today) coming out in print. frightening. it is going to have to stop.
when do i get to go to the beach again?
still tired. still want nap. still have obscene amounts of homework to do. need a vacation. not going to get one. ever.
but i am going to the middle east. and i am going to scotland. and i very nearly typed "ai" instead of "i" which would be my new-found southern accent (which accidentally came out in class today) coming out in print. frightening. it is going to have to stop.
when do i get to go to the beach again?
Sunday, March 21, 2004
Mission Means Justice
Mission Means Justice
Isaiah 42.1-9
CNCP
March 21, 2004
Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my spirit upon him;
he will bring forth justice to the nations.
He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street;
a bruised reed he will not break,
and a dimly burning wick he will not quench;
he will faithfully bring forth justice.
He will not grow faint or be crushed
until he has established justice in the earth;
and the coastlands wait for his teaching.
Thus says God, the LORD,
who created the heavens and stretched them out,
who spread out the earth and what comes from it,
who gives breath to the people upon it
and spirit to those who walk in it:
I am the LORD,
I have called you in righteousness,
I have taken you by the hand and kept you;
I have given you as a covenant to the people,
a light to the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind,
to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.
I am the LORD,
that is my name;
my glory I give to no other,
nor my praise to idols.
See, the former things have come to pass,
and new things I now declare;
before they spring forth,
I tell you of them.
This is the word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
I know in the church we don’t believe in astrology and horoscopes, in a person’s zodiac sign as a determiner of destiny. But I would be willing to bet that lots of people read their horoscopes anyway, just for fun. One of the most cliché pick-up lines is “hey, what’s your sign?” Well, my sign is Libra. The symbol for Libra is the scales—we’re supposed to be balanced people who value fairness. Lady Justice is a blindfolded woman holding some scales that look just like the scales of my Libra symbol—suggesting that the justice system is one that values fairness and balance. Now, since this is my sign and these signs supposedly say a lot about who we are, you would think that I (along with everyone else born between the 23rd of September and the 22nd of October) would be experts in the field of justice and fairness. So what explains why I had such a hard time writing a sermon with Justice in the title?
The main problem I’ve had seems to be with the abstract concept of justice. In our American legal understanding, justice seems to mean fairness, balance, equity, and the like. It means that everyone gets treated equally, and that there are consequences to every action. But this balancing act doesn’t seem to be what God means by justice when I read the book of Isaiah, or what Hannah and Mary sang about in their songs praising God’s justice, or even necessarily what Jesus was like all the time. There it seems that God cares especially for the poor and downtrodden, that it isn’t about equality at all but about lifting up the needy and bringing down the mighty.
How can we be a part of this vision of God’s justice when our own idea of what justice is doesn’t seem to square up with God’s? The prophets say that doing justice means caring for the poor, the needy, the outcast, the alien, the orphan, the widow. Deuteronomy says that following the law will lead one into a just relationship with God and neighbor. In the first chapter of Isaiah we hear God shouting at the Israelites that the wealthy and powerful have become so self-absorbed that they forget to care for those less fortunate than themselves. The pious have become so involved in temple ritual that they neglect to feed the hungry. The whole nation ought to be ashamed by this behavior.
So God has sent the servant, in whom God delights. The servant who has been anointed with the Holy Spirit, who will bring forth justice to the whole world. The gospels claim that this servant is Jesus. In his life and in his death, he has established justice. But if that’s the case, where is it? I look around and I don’t see justice in either my usual definition or in God’s definition: instead I see war, I see famine though there is plenty of food for everyone, I see children dying of preventable diseases, I see homeless people on the streets, I see big houses and limousines and Hollywood stars wearing million dollar dresses.
I wondered how I could preach this text and say that God has established justice and thus the work we do is not to bring about justice but to help people see it, or some other way of making it sound like all the work was God’s and we’re just conduits of information somehow. I have agonized over how to make this work. And finally, I think I have a way, a way that reminds us that it’s really God’s work without releasing us of responsibility. The word established has become key. Established doesn’t necessarily mean Accomplished or finished. It just means started. In Christ, God was working for the reconciliation of all creation to Godself. The whole creation is new because God came to live among us, to be our light in the darkness. And now, as we wait between the resurrection and the coming again, the church has been called in righteousness to continue the justice God has established. God has taken us by the hand and kept us. God has given us, the church, as a covenant. God will open the eyes of the blind and lead out the prisoners who sit in dark dungeons. And we, the church, are both the proof and the workers.
Here we are, an organization full of sinful people, people who don’t often do the right thing, people who live with broken relationships, and yet God has called us to be in relationship with our neighbors and with Godself. God has called us to be a light in the dark world. And God is holding our hand the whole time. And so we can be bold enough to do God’s work in the world. Which is why we spend the night at a homeless shelter once a month, lobby for changes in legislation so that children with cancer don’t lose healthcare benefits, tutor kids in reading and math, visit the people who are often forgotten in nursing homes and hospitals, write letters to our congresspeople, go on mission trips to work in soup kitchens and build houses, and countless other things. It’s why we smile at our checkout clerk at Publix. It’s why we support our churches and local charities. Because God has called us, and led us, and given us as a light to the nations.
It isn’t possible to go out and do mission solely as proselytizing. Catherine showed us last week some of the dreadful consequences of forcing Christian faith, complete with Western cultural ideals, on other people in order to save their souls for eternal life. If we claim that Christianity has only to do with eternal life and nothing to do with life in the here and now, then we are severely misrepresenting our God and the work of Jesus. Jesus said “I came that they might have life, and have it abundantly.” He cured the sick, cast out demons, fed the hungry, and visited people who needed him. He told stories of how at the last days the king will say “come inherit the kingdom that has been prepared for you, for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” And the people asked when this had happened, and the king said, “as often as you did it to the least of these, you did it to me.” Jesus not only talked about the future in the kingdom, but acted like it was already here among us. The people who were outcasts were welcomed at the table—even known sinners, even tax collectors, even disciples who didn’t understand what was going on. This doesn’t sound like a mission to save eternal souls. It sounds like a mission to exhibit the kingdom of heaven in this world.
I went on an impromptu road trip this weekend, and saw a place in Conyers that you may know about, called the “Church in the Now.” I’ve heard some things about this place that make it seem like perhaps not exactly the type of community I would want to be in, but I am interested in their name. See, this is exactly what we ought to be: we need to be doing mission as the church in the here and now, not as the church of the past, stuck in our ways, and not as the church only interested in the state of our souls after we die. We are interested in what our lives are like here in this place, now in this time, as the children of God. We are interested in what God wants for all God’s children right now, not in whether ultimately every person will go to heaven or not. I’m intrigued by the idea of being a church in the now, just as we call ourselves a church of the new covenant. We are children of the covenant—and we have been given as a covenant, a light to the nations. And we exist here and now, surrounded by people who want to know what God has to say to them in their situation. What does God have to say to us in our current context, our current problems, our current excitements, our local culture? “I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness.” God has called us into right relationship, into reconciliation, into care for one another.
You often hear me talk about the Great Ends of the Church, which are listed in the very first chapter of the Book of Order. The sixth great end is the Exhibition of the Kingdom of Heaven to the world. That’s what mission as justice means to me personally. It means that we are engaged in showing the world what the kingdom looks like, because God has already showed us. To do God’s mission in the world is to show forth the kingdom in word and in deed.
We Presbyterians like to sit around in committees and figure out what everything means before we actually do anything. Ann Weems has a poem about this, and about how we can go about this business of exhibiting the kingdom of heaven to the world—which seems a daunting task! Hear her poem “Careful Consideration”:
Certain in-charge church people
expound upon the finer points of doctrine
while the disenfranchised await the verdict.
Meanwhile the holy fools rush in
and touch the outcasts,
creating Good News once again.
Friends, this is good news! The former things have come to pass, and God is declaring new things right here in our midst—before they spring forth, God is telling us of them. And we are called in righteousness, taken by the hand, and given as a covenant and a light. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it. Amen.
Isaiah 42.1-9
CNCP
March 21, 2004
Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my spirit upon him;
he will bring forth justice to the nations.
He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street;
a bruised reed he will not break,
and a dimly burning wick he will not quench;
he will faithfully bring forth justice.
He will not grow faint or be crushed
until he has established justice in the earth;
and the coastlands wait for his teaching.
Thus says God, the LORD,
who created the heavens and stretched them out,
who spread out the earth and what comes from it,
who gives breath to the people upon it
and spirit to those who walk in it:
I am the LORD,
I have called you in righteousness,
I have taken you by the hand and kept you;
I have given you as a covenant to the people,
a light to the nations,
to open the eyes that are blind,
to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon,
from the prison those who sit in darkness.
I am the LORD,
that is my name;
my glory I give to no other,
nor my praise to idols.
See, the former things have come to pass,
and new things I now declare;
before they spring forth,
I tell you of them.
This is the word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
I know in the church we don’t believe in astrology and horoscopes, in a person’s zodiac sign as a determiner of destiny. But I would be willing to bet that lots of people read their horoscopes anyway, just for fun. One of the most cliché pick-up lines is “hey, what’s your sign?” Well, my sign is Libra. The symbol for Libra is the scales—we’re supposed to be balanced people who value fairness. Lady Justice is a blindfolded woman holding some scales that look just like the scales of my Libra symbol—suggesting that the justice system is one that values fairness and balance. Now, since this is my sign and these signs supposedly say a lot about who we are, you would think that I (along with everyone else born between the 23rd of September and the 22nd of October) would be experts in the field of justice and fairness. So what explains why I had such a hard time writing a sermon with Justice in the title?
The main problem I’ve had seems to be with the abstract concept of justice. In our American legal understanding, justice seems to mean fairness, balance, equity, and the like. It means that everyone gets treated equally, and that there are consequences to every action. But this balancing act doesn’t seem to be what God means by justice when I read the book of Isaiah, or what Hannah and Mary sang about in their songs praising God’s justice, or even necessarily what Jesus was like all the time. There it seems that God cares especially for the poor and downtrodden, that it isn’t about equality at all but about lifting up the needy and bringing down the mighty.
How can we be a part of this vision of God’s justice when our own idea of what justice is doesn’t seem to square up with God’s? The prophets say that doing justice means caring for the poor, the needy, the outcast, the alien, the orphan, the widow. Deuteronomy says that following the law will lead one into a just relationship with God and neighbor. In the first chapter of Isaiah we hear God shouting at the Israelites that the wealthy and powerful have become so self-absorbed that they forget to care for those less fortunate than themselves. The pious have become so involved in temple ritual that they neglect to feed the hungry. The whole nation ought to be ashamed by this behavior.
So God has sent the servant, in whom God delights. The servant who has been anointed with the Holy Spirit, who will bring forth justice to the whole world. The gospels claim that this servant is Jesus. In his life and in his death, he has established justice. But if that’s the case, where is it? I look around and I don’t see justice in either my usual definition or in God’s definition: instead I see war, I see famine though there is plenty of food for everyone, I see children dying of preventable diseases, I see homeless people on the streets, I see big houses and limousines and Hollywood stars wearing million dollar dresses.
I wondered how I could preach this text and say that God has established justice and thus the work we do is not to bring about justice but to help people see it, or some other way of making it sound like all the work was God’s and we’re just conduits of information somehow. I have agonized over how to make this work. And finally, I think I have a way, a way that reminds us that it’s really God’s work without releasing us of responsibility. The word established has become key. Established doesn’t necessarily mean Accomplished or finished. It just means started. In Christ, God was working for the reconciliation of all creation to Godself. The whole creation is new because God came to live among us, to be our light in the darkness. And now, as we wait between the resurrection and the coming again, the church has been called in righteousness to continue the justice God has established. God has taken us by the hand and kept us. God has given us, the church, as a covenant. God will open the eyes of the blind and lead out the prisoners who sit in dark dungeons. And we, the church, are both the proof and the workers.
Here we are, an organization full of sinful people, people who don’t often do the right thing, people who live with broken relationships, and yet God has called us to be in relationship with our neighbors and with Godself. God has called us to be a light in the dark world. And God is holding our hand the whole time. And so we can be bold enough to do God’s work in the world. Which is why we spend the night at a homeless shelter once a month, lobby for changes in legislation so that children with cancer don’t lose healthcare benefits, tutor kids in reading and math, visit the people who are often forgotten in nursing homes and hospitals, write letters to our congresspeople, go on mission trips to work in soup kitchens and build houses, and countless other things. It’s why we smile at our checkout clerk at Publix. It’s why we support our churches and local charities. Because God has called us, and led us, and given us as a light to the nations.
It isn’t possible to go out and do mission solely as proselytizing. Catherine showed us last week some of the dreadful consequences of forcing Christian faith, complete with Western cultural ideals, on other people in order to save their souls for eternal life. If we claim that Christianity has only to do with eternal life and nothing to do with life in the here and now, then we are severely misrepresenting our God and the work of Jesus. Jesus said “I came that they might have life, and have it abundantly.” He cured the sick, cast out demons, fed the hungry, and visited people who needed him. He told stories of how at the last days the king will say “come inherit the kingdom that has been prepared for you, for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” And the people asked when this had happened, and the king said, “as often as you did it to the least of these, you did it to me.” Jesus not only talked about the future in the kingdom, but acted like it was already here among us. The people who were outcasts were welcomed at the table—even known sinners, even tax collectors, even disciples who didn’t understand what was going on. This doesn’t sound like a mission to save eternal souls. It sounds like a mission to exhibit the kingdom of heaven in this world.
I went on an impromptu road trip this weekend, and saw a place in Conyers that you may know about, called the “Church in the Now.” I’ve heard some things about this place that make it seem like perhaps not exactly the type of community I would want to be in, but I am interested in their name. See, this is exactly what we ought to be: we need to be doing mission as the church in the here and now, not as the church of the past, stuck in our ways, and not as the church only interested in the state of our souls after we die. We are interested in what our lives are like here in this place, now in this time, as the children of God. We are interested in what God wants for all God’s children right now, not in whether ultimately every person will go to heaven or not. I’m intrigued by the idea of being a church in the now, just as we call ourselves a church of the new covenant. We are children of the covenant—and we have been given as a covenant, a light to the nations. And we exist here and now, surrounded by people who want to know what God has to say to them in their situation. What does God have to say to us in our current context, our current problems, our current excitements, our local culture? “I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness.” God has called us into right relationship, into reconciliation, into care for one another.
You often hear me talk about the Great Ends of the Church, which are listed in the very first chapter of the Book of Order. The sixth great end is the Exhibition of the Kingdom of Heaven to the world. That’s what mission as justice means to me personally. It means that we are engaged in showing the world what the kingdom looks like, because God has already showed us. To do God’s mission in the world is to show forth the kingdom in word and in deed.
We Presbyterians like to sit around in committees and figure out what everything means before we actually do anything. Ann Weems has a poem about this, and about how we can go about this business of exhibiting the kingdom of heaven to the world—which seems a daunting task! Hear her poem “Careful Consideration”:
Certain in-charge church people
expound upon the finer points of doctrine
while the disenfranchised await the verdict.
Meanwhile the holy fools rush in
and touch the outcasts,
creating Good News once again.
Friends, this is good news! The former things have come to pass, and God is declaring new things right here in our midst—before they spring forth, God is telling us of them. And we are called in righteousness, taken by the hand, and given as a covenant and a light. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it. Amen.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
beach in a bottle and light up flip-flops
these are the two things i came home with from our impromptu road trip last night. at dinner time, noell and i decided to try to get out of the city to somewhere actually dark and not noisy or smelly, somewhere we could see the stars. soon we were a long way out and we looked at a map. the beach was only a couple more hours, so why not? so, around 2 in the morning we rolled in to Myrtle Beach, SC. We played in the sand and surf, collected sand, water, and some shells in an empty water bottle, and were generally silly.
oh, and for the record: sea foam is not seafoam green but is in fact a kind of icky dirty dish-water beige, like dirty snow. crayola has lied to us our whole lives.
back to the point: we drove all night, we had a blast, we talked, we looked at stars and smelled fresh air, we went to Wal-Mart at 4 in the morning to buy flip flops because shoes were wet, and to get toothbrushes because we wanted to brush our teeth more than anything else, basically, in the whole world. It was great. My flip flops light up like little kid shoes--they are so cool!
so now i have to go write a sermon about justice. justice is: being able to go to the beach to be free of the clutter in order to make coming back more bearable.
well...maybe not. but it is working for a place where everyone can do that. right?
i love the beach. :-)
oh, and for the record: sea foam is not seafoam green but is in fact a kind of icky dirty dish-water beige, like dirty snow. crayola has lied to us our whole lives.
back to the point: we drove all night, we had a blast, we talked, we looked at stars and smelled fresh air, we went to Wal-Mart at 4 in the morning to buy flip flops because shoes were wet, and to get toothbrushes because we wanted to brush our teeth more than anything else, basically, in the whole world. It was great. My flip flops light up like little kid shoes--they are so cool!
so now i have to go write a sermon about justice. justice is: being able to go to the beach to be free of the clutter in order to make coming back more bearable.
well...maybe not. but it is working for a place where everyone can do that. right?
i love the beach. :-)
Friday, March 19, 2004
school is weird
school computers are weird, and i can't see the last post i made...i don't know if it's doing that for y'all too--if so, you won't see this post until i post something new. so there. hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
i'm going to scotland!
i'm really really going! The session at St. John's-Renfield Church has "enthusiastically agreed" to my coming, and is going to arrange my housing, in-country transportation, and phone. yay! i'm so excited, i can't even tell you!
also, i'm going on a trip to the Middle East (israel, syria, jordan, egypt...and then greece) in may, which is exciting. woohoo!
all around, a good day. except for the part where my car has not yet been returned to me and won't be until next week. BLEAH.
anyway...yeah. good times!
also, i'm going on a trip to the Middle East (israel, syria, jordan, egypt...and then greece) in may, which is exciting. woohoo!
all around, a good day. except for the part where my car has not yet been returned to me and won't be until next week. BLEAH.
anyway...yeah. good times!
Celtic Lent IV
The most prevalent of all Celtic symbols is the Celtic knot. Found on the high crosses, on jewelry and in the margins of manuscripts, the knot symbolizes how all things in heaven and earth are intricately intertwined and inseparable. The relationship of the members of the Trinity is the prime illustration of interconnection.
Life in this world is intertwined with life in the world beyond this one. The communion of saints was a vibrant reality for the Celts, who believed that those who had died remained present to them. Only a thin, permeable membrane separates those living on earth and those living with God. This was especially true of the risen Christ, whom the Celts believed is not only at God's right hand but also at theirs.
Even though God can be encountered anywhere, there are also certain "thin places" where this happens most easily. Prayer huts were often constructed on these sites, where people could seek silence and solitude.
Life in this world is intertwined with life in the world beyond this one. The communion of saints was a vibrant reality for the Celts, who believed that those who had died remained present to them. Only a thin, permeable membrane separates those living on earth and those living with God. This was especially true of the risen Christ, whom the Celts believed is not only at God's right hand but also at theirs.
Even though God can be encountered anywhere, there are also certain "thin places" where this happens most easily. Prayer huts were often constructed on these sites, where people could seek silence and solitude.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Celtic Lent III
For the Celts salvation was the restoration of original goodness. What had been covered needed to be uncovered. What had been lost needed to be found. This finding and uncovering was the work of Jesus, who came to conquer evil and restore creation's goodness. God's Spirit was perfectly present in Jesus, and Jesus' grace makes the restoration possible. As Jesus healed the sick and forgave sinners, he restored their divine image. Once again they could live as God's daughters and sons. Knowing that they were God's sons and daughters and were given the grace to live that way, the Celts understood their goal was to become more and more like God's perfect son, Jesus. They strove to be imitators of him, growing in every way into him (Ephesians 4:15).
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