The Reading and reflections are taken from Luke 22:1-23
I. The Festival of Unleavened Bread, which is also called Passover, was approaching. Leading priests, and teachers of religious law were plotting to kill Jesus, but they were afraid of the people’s reaction.
Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve disciples, went to the leading priests and captains of the Temple guard to discuss the best way to betray Jesus to them. They were delighted, and they promised to give him money. So he agreed and began to look for an opportunity to betray Jesus so they could arrest him when the crowds weren’t around.
Reflection 1
Luke is the one Gospel which tells us from the beginning that he is relating as closely as possible what he has been told by others. Some of the leading priests and teachers of the religious law were already planning to get rid of Jesus, according to Luke, but didn’t have a good excuse.
Then there is Judas. Judas had been one of the twelve all along, and probably he was one of the few who really believed Jesus was in fact the hoped-for Messiah. He had been there where Jesus had done so many things, he likely believed it would be easy for Jesus to just call up the power of God and demonstrate to the religious leaders and the Romans who he really was. I don’t think Judas ever thought Jesus would really die. I think he took the money, and figured the joke would be on the leaders when Jesus demonstrated his real power.
II. The Festival of Unleavened Bread arrived, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed. Jesus sent Peter and John ahead and said, “Go and prepare the Passover meal, so we can eat it together.”
“Where do you want us to prepare it?” they asked him.
Jesus said “As soon as you enter Jerusalem, a man carrying a pitcher of water will meet you. Follow him. At the house he enters, say to the owner, ‘The Teacher asks: Where is the guest room where I can eat the Passover meal with my disciples?’ He will take you upstairs to a large room that is already set up. That is where you should prepare our meal.” They went off to the city and found everything just as Jesus had said, and they prepared the Passover meal there.
Reflection 2
If we take Luke at face value, it looks as if Jesus is predicting everything which will come. More likely Luke leaves out the bits where Jesus has made arrangements ahead of time; maybe those details weren’t related; maybe Jesus had other people do the arrangements; maybe Jesus had a premonition that this would be the last Passover together, and he wanted it to be special. Knowing how the people would crowd into Jerusalem, he wanted to be sure they had a place where they could sit in comfort and eat in peace, and enjoy each other’s company. Everyone Jesus loved, together in one place. Not just the twelve, but all the people who went with them everywhere - the women and the children too.
What would it be like, if you just had a feeling you were going to die soon, and wanted to have one last get-together with all your friends. You would make sure everything was arranged - the place, the food, the atmosphere. Jesus sends Peter and John ahead to prepare the food, but he has already made sure everything else is organised so there won’t be any glitches. There is water, food, wine, bread - and a comfortable place where everyone has everything they need.
III. When the time came, Jesus and the apostles sat down together at the table. Jesus said, “I have been very eager to eat this Passover meal with you before my suffering begins. For I tell you now that I won’t eat this meal again until its meaning is fulfilled in the Kingdom of God.”
Then he took a cup of wine and gave thanks to God for it. Then he said, “Take this and share it among yourselves. For I will not drink wine again until the Kingdom of God has come.”
He took some bread and gave thanks to God for it. Then he broke it in pieces and gave it to the disciples, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this to remember me.”
After supper he took another cup of wine and said, “This cup is the new covenant between God and his people—an agreement confirmed with my blood, which is poured out as a sacrifice for you.
“But here at this table, sitting among us as a friend, is the man who will betray me. For it has been determined that the Son of Man must die. But what sorrow awaits the one who betrays him.” The disciples began to ask each other which of them would ever do such a thing.
Reflection 3
So the meal is prepared. Long low tables set around the room, cushions and benches to recline on, simple dishes for the food - and the traditional meal.
Some of the detail in Luke is interesting though. Jesus takes the cup at the beginning of the meal - and offers thanks to God. In fact, he would have offered a blessing on God, and then thanks. He says he will not drink again until God’s realm comes on earth. Then he takes the bread - also the custom - but the words are changed and the bread becomes his body. Then he takes the cup a second time, saying that it is the new covenant, a confirmation of the agreement between God and the people.
We’ve always thought that Jesus knew from birth that he was going to die. That’s what we’ve been taught. Jesus wasn’t stupid. He had been in the face of the religious authorities one way or another all the time; he had been abrasive and critical - and he had been right about their hypocrisy. Luke tells us at the beginning that the religious leaders were already plotting Jesus’ death. Jesus’ statement that his death has already been determined is simply a matter of fact, not psychic abilities or supernatural knowledge. He knows more than Judas had realised. No, Jesus wasn’t stupid at all. He saw it coming.
The disciples of course, react exactly the way everyone would. Who on earth would turn him in? Who would ever betray Jesus? Who would ever renege on the friendship which had been formed? Who would turn against him, or deny knowing him?
Knowing the physical danger, wouldn’t we all?
Friday, March 26, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
“A Prodigal Muchness” John 12:1-8 Fifth Sunday in Lent Glen Ayr United Church
Has anyone seen the new Alice in Wonderland movie yet? I confess I have not, but it’s on the to-do list for this week. My friend and colleague, Rev. Susan Leo, did go to see it. She comments that it is a sequel to the Disney animation of 1951, rather than a remake. Alice, in this movie, is now a young woman, almost an adult. She’s not happy with her options, but isn’t certain of herself, not sure of what she should do, or what she could do. So when she falls down the rabbit hole into Underland, she is older than when she first visited, and also a very different person: less bold, less confident - so much less herself that the March Hare and the Mad Hatter are sure that she’s The Wrong Alice. “You were so much more, muchier then”, the Hatter says, looking sad. “You’ve lost your muchness.”
“You’ve lost your muchness.” It happens doesn’t it? As we get older, exposed to life, we gradually lose our muchness. We’re supposed to tamp our muchness down - we might be considered improper, or misunderstood, or judged too much - we might be judged.
As we look at the story from the Gospel of John today, there are a couple of things for you to hold in your mind.
First, in scripture the Hebrew word "me'od" means, literally, "muchness." In Deuteronomy 6:5, when we are told to love God with our strength, the word is actually "me’od” - muchness. Jesus quotes Deuteronomy, and the word is translated variously as "strength" or "might." but it really is “me’od”, muchness. Jesus says to love God with “all your muchness”.
Second, the dictionary tells us that the meaning of the word “prodigal” means rashly or wastefully extravagant - but also giving, or given in abundance, lavish or profuse. A prodigal person is one who is given to wasteful extravagance.
Well, the story today from John is about muchness: the muchness of Mary, the muchness of God, and the judging it provokes.
Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. These three are never identified as official disciples, although I think they were, because although they lived at home, they were friends of Jesus. We don’t know how they became friends, but Jesus was obviously very close to them. It sounds like he had been there often for a breather from the people wanting him. This friendship had just recently been tested. In the story right before this one, Lazarus had become seriously ill. Mary and Martha sent for Jesus to come and help, believing that he would make Lazarus well. They believed he could heal Lazarus.
Even after Jesus received the message, he flatly refused to go, and even spent time relaxing by the Jordan River for a couple more days. When he did eventually go, he found himself confronted with anger, accusations of betrayal from the grieving sisters. Moved by their grief, Jesus went to the tomb, and called Lazarus out. The crowd surrounding the tomb that day was amazed. Some went away bewildered, some left filled with wonder and awe. Still others ran off to the Pharisees and told them of what they had seen. Now this would not sit well with the Pharisees - because only a real prophet can raise the dead to life. They would be really angry - just as John paints them in his gospel. Jesus might just be who everyone says he is.
So here we are: a comfortable home, friends eating and relaxing together, just a couple of days after the miraculous thing, and just before Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time - although they don’t know that yet. Relaxing, drinking a little or a lot, talking and laughing. Martha, the older sister and a perfectionist, has put another incredible meal on the table. Mary, the younger sister, the one whose mind is always off in the clouds, sitting near Jesus and just drinking in everything he says. Lazarus, maybe still pinching himself after the ordeal, laughing with Jesus and the gang.
Mary goes to another room for a moment, and comes back with a jar in her hands. She kneels in front of Jesus, opens the jar, scoops out the spicy nard, which has a scent reminiscent of mint and ginseng. She warms it in her hands, and the fragrance fills the whole room. The room goes silent. Mary massages the very expensive perfume into his feet, then lets her hair down, and begins to wipe away the excess.
This is an astonishing and provocative scene. Not only was it totally unexpected, it was outside the acceptable norms of behaviour for a woman; when Mary broke open the jar, she broke a whole pile of taboos. Anoint a man’s head was a symbol of royalty; to pour perfume on a man’s was the action of a slave. A woman might touch the feet of a man to whom she was married, but otherwise not. And a respectable woman would never let down her hair like that.
Judas was the one who spoke. What a waste of money! Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money used to help the poor??? John tells us Judas didn’t care about the poor, he cared about the money. So instead of seeing this action as gratitude and extravagant love, - prodigal love, profligate in is extravagance - he only saw waste. He couldn’t deal with the “muchness” of the whole thing! That oil would, indeed, have fed many poor people for a long time!
Last week's story of the prodigal son brought us a jubilant father pulling out all the stops to celebrate his son’s return, despite conventional wisdom, and the petulance and anger of the other son. The father lives with “muchness”. Mary demonstrates the same kind of extravagant love in this story. It is a story about “muchness” - me’od.
Mary makes us uncomfortable - she is so adoring and driven to give a blessing. Jesus makes us uncomfortable because he is so willing to receive it - we would have expected Jesus to chastise Mary for the waste, wouldn’t we? Judas is just opposed to muchness in any of its manifestations.
Yet here, through Mary the dreamer, is an expression of extravagant love, magnanimous love; lavish love. She offers Jesus an incredible blessing; to give or receive a blessing, is to become vulnerable, revealing more of ourselves, our desire, and our love. We don’t like looking “over the top”. Usually, for us, when we’re given a blessing, we think we don’t really deserve it, we automatically think there must be strings attached somewhere. Who are we to give a blessing to others? So many of us think that. Oh, Im nobody special what do I have to offer anyway?
And unlike Mary, when we give we don’t give out of “muchness”, we give with a poverty of soul. Then, playing the role of Judas, we judge people who are as lavish as Mary, or the overjoyed father in the prodigal son story. This is a story of prodigality and muchness: through Mary, we see the muchness of God. Through a woman, no less, the generosity and extravagance of God is demonstrated. Mary's gift was a prodigal and profligate, incredible blessing, with no regard for propriety, cost, or the fear of being too much. Gods gift of Jesus is an even greater muchness, a large extravagant blessing given without regard for propriety, regulation, cost, or the fear of being too much. God wishes for us to be as much as we are capable of being. God wishes that we stop paying attention to the Judas who would curb our muchness. God wishes us to give with extravagant generosity from those blessings whenever and wherever we can. God wants us not to lose our “muchness”, but to celebrate it and work on it
In the second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul writes “Thanks be to God, who in Christ, always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads in every place the fragrance that comes from knowing Christ. For we are the aroma of Christ....”
Sources:
1. Sermon “A Holy Muchness”, by Rev. Susan Leo, Bridgeport United Church of Christ, Portland, Oregon.
2. 2 Corinthians 2:14-17 - “Scent of a Disciple” by Rev. Wes Morgan, First Christian Church Disciples of Christ, Conroe, Texas..
“You’ve lost your muchness.” It happens doesn’t it? As we get older, exposed to life, we gradually lose our muchness. We’re supposed to tamp our muchness down - we might be considered improper, or misunderstood, or judged too much - we might be judged.
As we look at the story from the Gospel of John today, there are a couple of things for you to hold in your mind.
First, in scripture the Hebrew word "me'od" means, literally, "muchness." In Deuteronomy 6:5, when we are told to love God with our strength, the word is actually "me’od” - muchness. Jesus quotes Deuteronomy, and the word is translated variously as "strength" or "might." but it really is “me’od”, muchness. Jesus says to love God with “all your muchness”.
Second, the dictionary tells us that the meaning of the word “prodigal” means rashly or wastefully extravagant - but also giving, or given in abundance, lavish or profuse. A prodigal person is one who is given to wasteful extravagance.
Well, the story today from John is about muchness: the muchness of Mary, the muchness of God, and the judging it provokes.
Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. These three are never identified as official disciples, although I think they were, because although they lived at home, they were friends of Jesus. We don’t know how they became friends, but Jesus was obviously very close to them. It sounds like he had been there often for a breather from the people wanting him. This friendship had just recently been tested. In the story right before this one, Lazarus had become seriously ill. Mary and Martha sent for Jesus to come and help, believing that he would make Lazarus well. They believed he could heal Lazarus.
Even after Jesus received the message, he flatly refused to go, and even spent time relaxing by the Jordan River for a couple more days. When he did eventually go, he found himself confronted with anger, accusations of betrayal from the grieving sisters. Moved by their grief, Jesus went to the tomb, and called Lazarus out. The crowd surrounding the tomb that day was amazed. Some went away bewildered, some left filled with wonder and awe. Still others ran off to the Pharisees and told them of what they had seen. Now this would not sit well with the Pharisees - because only a real prophet can raise the dead to life. They would be really angry - just as John paints them in his gospel. Jesus might just be who everyone says he is.
So here we are: a comfortable home, friends eating and relaxing together, just a couple of days after the miraculous thing, and just before Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time - although they don’t know that yet. Relaxing, drinking a little or a lot, talking and laughing. Martha, the older sister and a perfectionist, has put another incredible meal on the table. Mary, the younger sister, the one whose mind is always off in the clouds, sitting near Jesus and just drinking in everything he says. Lazarus, maybe still pinching himself after the ordeal, laughing with Jesus and the gang.
Mary goes to another room for a moment, and comes back with a jar in her hands. She kneels in front of Jesus, opens the jar, scoops out the spicy nard, which has a scent reminiscent of mint and ginseng. She warms it in her hands, and the fragrance fills the whole room. The room goes silent. Mary massages the very expensive perfume into his feet, then lets her hair down, and begins to wipe away the excess.
This is an astonishing and provocative scene. Not only was it totally unexpected, it was outside the acceptable norms of behaviour for a woman; when Mary broke open the jar, she broke a whole pile of taboos. Anoint a man’s head was a symbol of royalty; to pour perfume on a man’s was the action of a slave. A woman might touch the feet of a man to whom she was married, but otherwise not. And a respectable woman would never let down her hair like that.
Judas was the one who spoke. What a waste of money! Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money used to help the poor??? John tells us Judas didn’t care about the poor, he cared about the money. So instead of seeing this action as gratitude and extravagant love, - prodigal love, profligate in is extravagance - he only saw waste. He couldn’t deal with the “muchness” of the whole thing! That oil would, indeed, have fed many poor people for a long time!
Last week's story of the prodigal son brought us a jubilant father pulling out all the stops to celebrate his son’s return, despite conventional wisdom, and the petulance and anger of the other son. The father lives with “muchness”. Mary demonstrates the same kind of extravagant love in this story. It is a story about “muchness” - me’od.
Mary makes us uncomfortable - she is so adoring and driven to give a blessing. Jesus makes us uncomfortable because he is so willing to receive it - we would have expected Jesus to chastise Mary for the waste, wouldn’t we? Judas is just opposed to muchness in any of its manifestations.
Yet here, through Mary the dreamer, is an expression of extravagant love, magnanimous love; lavish love. She offers Jesus an incredible blessing; to give or receive a blessing, is to become vulnerable, revealing more of ourselves, our desire, and our love. We don’t like looking “over the top”. Usually, for us, when we’re given a blessing, we think we don’t really deserve it, we automatically think there must be strings attached somewhere. Who are we to give a blessing to others? So many of us think that. Oh, Im nobody special what do I have to offer anyway?
And unlike Mary, when we give we don’t give out of “muchness”, we give with a poverty of soul. Then, playing the role of Judas, we judge people who are as lavish as Mary, or the overjoyed father in the prodigal son story. This is a story of prodigality and muchness: through Mary, we see the muchness of God. Through a woman, no less, the generosity and extravagance of God is demonstrated. Mary's gift was a prodigal and profligate, incredible blessing, with no regard for propriety, cost, or the fear of being too much. Gods gift of Jesus is an even greater muchness, a large extravagant blessing given without regard for propriety, regulation, cost, or the fear of being too much. God wishes for us to be as much as we are capable of being. God wishes that we stop paying attention to the Judas who would curb our muchness. God wishes us to give with extravagant generosity from those blessings whenever and wherever we can. God wants us not to lose our “muchness”, but to celebrate it and work on it
In the second letter to the church in Corinth, Paul writes “Thanks be to God, who in Christ, always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads in every place the fragrance that comes from knowing Christ. For we are the aroma of Christ....”
Sources:
1. Sermon “A Holy Muchness”, by Rev. Susan Leo, Bridgeport United Church of Christ, Portland, Oregon.
2. 2 Corinthians 2:14-17 - “Scent of a Disciple” by Rev. Wes Morgan, First Christian Church Disciples of Christ, Conroe, Texas..
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Prodigals!!! A sermon based on Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 Glen Ayr United Church March 14, 2010 Fourth Sunday in Lent
“What? You want ME to go to a party for that moron? Look, Dad, I’ve really had it up to here, ya know? I’ve worked the farm year in and year out, done everything you asked without ONCE complaining. Meanwhile that little moron takes all the money he can get, runs off and blows the lot on women and drinking. He’s a totally irresponsible idiot. I told you this would happen, didn’t I? And now you want me to welcome him home, act like everything’s OK? It *isn’t* OK. But you and mom always did love him best....”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal eldest - giving all his time and energy, the perfectionist, taking no time for himself but always trying to do what he thought would meet the approval of Mom and Dad. Desperately looking for their approval. Slaving away in the fields long after the regular labourers had quit for the day. Assuming more and more of the heavy work as Dad got older.....and feeling like it was all taken for granted, feeling as if he was *expected* to give all his life to his family, at the expense of his own happiness. Prodigal and profligate with his giving and giving and giving without restraint.
Six years between him and the youngest, and in those six years he had all the attention, all the love, all the little extra good tidbits of food at the table. He was an only child for those years, and while it meant he got the attention, he felt like he was expected to perform. By the time the younger son came along, he was on his way to being a perfectionist oldest who was never satisfied with giving anything less than all of himself to everything. Prodigal and profligate in his giving to his parents, he never learned how to love himself for who he was. He passed up chances with some of the prettiest girls around, because he always felt he had to be at the farm, helping his parents. After awhile it felt like life had passed him by, that he would never have a life of his own until it was too late.
He got all the extra attention, until the little moron came along - and then - in his eyes - watching all the attention and the extra tidbits going to this ugly little thing which toddled after him, hanging on to his clothes. The one who could do no wrong as he grew up, the one who never got any discipline no matter what the escapade; the one who couldn’t care less about school, who didn’t worry about Mom and Dad, who just went his own way. ...and for that, Mom and Dad loved him best.
The worst thing he could possibly call his brother, in his culture, was *idiot* and *moron*. His resentment festered.....
“What? You want me to go to a party, for that MORON?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal youngest - the one who came along after the eldest had a grip on Mom and Dad’s love. The one who always had to follow after the older one, do what he was told. The one who was never allowed to do anything without his older brother. The one who wasn’t quite so smart, wouldn’t get out and work the fields, didn’t like to get dirty. The one who always seemed to have girls following him. Prodigal and profligate in his life, he spent all his time drinking in the local pub, or running around with any woman who would have him. Who just assumed everything would always work out. The one who was sick of that perfect older one, who Mom and Dad preferred because he was so responsible all the time. He always felt second-best, always felt like his parents were saying “Why can’t you be more like your brother? He knows what’s important.” He would never have a life at all on this backwater farm, plowing and working the fields, picking more rocks than crops, smelling like the pigs. No point in trying to impress Mom and Dad, they clearly loved the oldest one best, and probably never really wanted him anyway.
Nothing to do but take the money and run. Grab while you can, live in the moment, the future will somehow take care of itself. Get as far away as possible from that wuss who spends all his time sucking up to Mom and Dad, and live a real life. Out where things are interesting, where you never know what’s going to come next.
Living with the best of everything - good wine, excellent food, a comfortable place, lots of parties. Prodigal and profligate, the money slips through his fingers like sand. The more he has, the more he wants, the harder it is to have without becoming a criminal. Famine strikes; the money is gone, there is no more food or wine. He doesn’t feel any better than he did at home, in fact he feels worse. Working in someone else’s fields, even the husks from corn and beans look good to a hungry person. And nothing feeds the hunger of the soul.
“What? You want me to go to a PARTY for that moron?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. Parents, trying to recognise the individuals, treat each of them fairly - take stock of the needs of each, love them with all they have. Being accused of favouritism, of being boring, having no life, ignoring one and paying attention to the other. “You always loved HIM best!”
Father gradually growing older, finding it harder to move in the mornings with arthritis. Working the fields, tending the animals - growing enough to feed sheep, calves, and chickens to feed a family. Proud of the eldest who will carry on the farm; worried sick about the youngest who seems to have no sense of direction, knowing he needs to learn about the world, even if it’s the hard way.
Mother spending most of the day cooking for field labourers, making clothes, cleaning up - looking tired beyond her years. Trying gently to get her oldest son to ease up, and get the youngest to help more, to grow up.
Father, wisely, giving the young son his money and letting him go off recklessly abroad - hoping he learns, afraid of what could happen to him, wondering if he will ever see this wild child again.
Leaning out the window one day in an upstairs room he can see far down the road. A tiny speck in the distance makes him look harder. His child! His child has come home.....
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity and joy, running into the road, yelling to the labourers to go get the calf he has been fattening for market, the perfect calf which would bring in enough money to last a year. Prepare a celebration, the child has returned. Whatever happened, however it happened, doesn’t matter. Racing faster than he’s run in many a year, arthritis forgotten; arms thrown wide open to hug and hold and cry and rejoice. He looks into the sad and now knowing eyes of this dear child, and hears the words “I am not worthy to be considered your child. “ Hears himself saying “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Of course you are worthy! I love you, you are my child. Welcome home!”
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity, the calf is killed, the best robes in the house brought out, the farm hands given the day off. The table is prepared and everyone is invited to come and eat, to celebrate the return of the one who lost his way and found it again. Prodigal and profligate in his love, shining out of his very pores, coming alive again because of this one lost child.
“What? You want ME to go to a PARTY for that MORON? I’ve worked and slaved here, always done whatever you asked, never took money, never even had a DATE because I was working this farm because I wanted you to LOVE me? Because you always loved him best when *I* was the one who was reliable.” Tears now, and an angry stamping of feet. “I’ve wasted the best years of my life here, and for what? So you can celebrate that the moron came home because he had nothing left? He’s an idiot, taking advantage of you again, and he’ll hurt you again.”
Tears in the eyes of parents. “But we’ve always loved you. Everything we have has always been yours, always. Everything is yours, don’t you know that? Your brother was lost...he didn’t realise what that meant. Now he does and he’s come back to us! His return is what’s important. Come and eat, you are hungry too, I know you are. You are as much a part of this family as he is. Come to the table, come to the celebration.”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal eldest - giving all his time and energy, the perfectionist, taking no time for himself but always trying to do what he thought would meet the approval of Mom and Dad. Desperately looking for their approval. Slaving away in the fields long after the regular labourers had quit for the day. Assuming more and more of the heavy work as Dad got older.....and feeling like it was all taken for granted, feeling as if he was *expected* to give all his life to his family, at the expense of his own happiness. Prodigal and profligate with his giving and giving and giving without restraint.
Six years between him and the youngest, and in those six years he had all the attention, all the love, all the little extra good tidbits of food at the table. He was an only child for those years, and while it meant he got the attention, he felt like he was expected to perform. By the time the younger son came along, he was on his way to being a perfectionist oldest who was never satisfied with giving anything less than all of himself to everything. Prodigal and profligate in his giving to his parents, he never learned how to love himself for who he was. He passed up chances with some of the prettiest girls around, because he always felt he had to be at the farm, helping his parents. After awhile it felt like life had passed him by, that he would never have a life of his own until it was too late.
He got all the extra attention, until the little moron came along - and then - in his eyes - watching all the attention and the extra tidbits going to this ugly little thing which toddled after him, hanging on to his clothes. The one who could do no wrong as he grew up, the one who never got any discipline no matter what the escapade; the one who couldn’t care less about school, who didn’t worry about Mom and Dad, who just went his own way. ...and for that, Mom and Dad loved him best.
The worst thing he could possibly call his brother, in his culture, was *idiot* and *moron*. His resentment festered.....
“What? You want me to go to a party, for that MORON?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. The prodigal youngest - the one who came along after the eldest had a grip on Mom and Dad’s love. The one who always had to follow after the older one, do what he was told. The one who was never allowed to do anything without his older brother. The one who wasn’t quite so smart, wouldn’t get out and work the fields, didn’t like to get dirty. The one who always seemed to have girls following him. Prodigal and profligate in his life, he spent all his time drinking in the local pub, or running around with any woman who would have him. Who just assumed everything would always work out. The one who was sick of that perfect older one, who Mom and Dad preferred because he was so responsible all the time. He always felt second-best, always felt like his parents were saying “Why can’t you be more like your brother? He knows what’s important.” He would never have a life at all on this backwater farm, plowing and working the fields, picking more rocks than crops, smelling like the pigs. No point in trying to impress Mom and Dad, they clearly loved the oldest one best, and probably never really wanted him anyway.
Nothing to do but take the money and run. Grab while you can, live in the moment, the future will somehow take care of itself. Get as far away as possible from that wuss who spends all his time sucking up to Mom and Dad, and live a real life. Out where things are interesting, where you never know what’s going to come next.
Living with the best of everything - good wine, excellent food, a comfortable place, lots of parties. Prodigal and profligate, the money slips through his fingers like sand. The more he has, the more he wants, the harder it is to have without becoming a criminal. Famine strikes; the money is gone, there is no more food or wine. He doesn’t feel any better than he did at home, in fact he feels worse. Working in someone else’s fields, even the husks from corn and beans look good to a hungry person. And nothing feeds the hunger of the soul.
“What? You want me to go to a PARTY for that moron?”
Brothers....one older, one younger. Siblings, tied by blood and family, but completely unlike each other. Parents, trying to recognise the individuals, treat each of them fairly - take stock of the needs of each, love them with all they have. Being accused of favouritism, of being boring, having no life, ignoring one and paying attention to the other. “You always loved HIM best!”
Father gradually growing older, finding it harder to move in the mornings with arthritis. Working the fields, tending the animals - growing enough to feed sheep, calves, and chickens to feed a family. Proud of the eldest who will carry on the farm; worried sick about the youngest who seems to have no sense of direction, knowing he needs to learn about the world, even if it’s the hard way.
Mother spending most of the day cooking for field labourers, making clothes, cleaning up - looking tired beyond her years. Trying gently to get her oldest son to ease up, and get the youngest to help more, to grow up.
Father, wisely, giving the young son his money and letting him go off recklessly abroad - hoping he learns, afraid of what could happen to him, wondering if he will ever see this wild child again.
Leaning out the window one day in an upstairs room he can see far down the road. A tiny speck in the distance makes him look harder. His child! His child has come home.....
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity and joy, running into the road, yelling to the labourers to go get the calf he has been fattening for market, the perfect calf which would bring in enough money to last a year. Prepare a celebration, the child has returned. Whatever happened, however it happened, doesn’t matter. Racing faster than he’s run in many a year, arthritis forgotten; arms thrown wide open to hug and hold and cry and rejoice. He looks into the sad and now knowing eyes of this dear child, and hears the words “I am not worthy to be considered your child. “ Hears himself saying “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. Of course you are worthy! I love you, you are my child. Welcome home!”
Prodigal and profligate in his generosity, the calf is killed, the best robes in the house brought out, the farm hands given the day off. The table is prepared and everyone is invited to come and eat, to celebrate the return of the one who lost his way and found it again. Prodigal and profligate in his love, shining out of his very pores, coming alive again because of this one lost child.
“What? You want ME to go to a PARTY for that MORON? I’ve worked and slaved here, always done whatever you asked, never took money, never even had a DATE because I was working this farm because I wanted you to LOVE me? Because you always loved him best when *I* was the one who was reliable.” Tears now, and an angry stamping of feet. “I’ve wasted the best years of my life here, and for what? So you can celebrate that the moron came home because he had nothing left? He’s an idiot, taking advantage of you again, and he’ll hurt you again.”
Tears in the eyes of parents. “But we’ve always loved you. Everything we have has always been yours, always. Everything is yours, don’t you know that? Your brother was lost...he didn’t realise what that meant. Now he does and he’s come back to us! His return is what’s important. Come and eat, you are hungry too, I know you are. You are as much a part of this family as he is. Come to the table, come to the celebration.”
Saturday, March 6, 2010
A Fig Tree? Lent 3 Year C Glen Ayr United Church Luke 13:1-9
About this time Jesus was told that Pilate had murdered some Galileans, as they were offering sacrifices at the Temple. “Do you think those Galileans were worse sinners than all the other people from Galilee?” Jesus asked. “Is that why they suffered? Not at all! And you will perish, too, unless you repent of your sins and turn to God. And what about the eighteen people who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them? Were they the worst sinners in Jerusalem? No, and I tell you again that unless you repent, you will perish, too.” Then Jesus told this story: “A man planted a fig tree in his garden and came again and again to see if there was any fruit on it, but he was always disappointed. Finally, he said to his gardener, ‘I’ve waited three years, and there hasn’t been a single fig! Cut it down. It’s just taking up space in the garden.’ “The gardener answered, ‘Sir, give it one more chance. Leave it another year, and I’ll give it special attention and plenty of fertilizer. If we get figs next year, fine. If not, then you can cut it down.’”
What do we know about fig trees? Not much, probably because we don’t see them a lot. Fig trees are quite common in areas of the world with a Mediterranean climate, which includes the southern US, California and Texas. They can be picked twice, and even three times in a year. Figs have been an important food crop for thousands of years, and are one of the very first plants cultivated by humans. In Gilgal, in the Jordan Valley just north of Jericho, no fewer than nine subfossil figs dating to about 9400–9200 BC - the Neolithic age - were found. This find predates the domestication of wheat, barley, and legumes.
So when Jesus talks about fig trees, as he does in various places in the Gospels, he is using a symbol which has been around as long as the Israelite people remember. He isn’t using some rare esoteric plant that hardly anyone would relate to, he is using literally the most common food source around.
But there’s another little piece in this scripture which needs to be noted. The translation I just read uses the word fertiliser, but the Greek word is kopria, which means literally “manure”. So the gardener says to the owner “Leave it with me for a year or so. I will prune it and give it lots of manure.”
So here we have a scripture in two parts - first, Jesus saying something totally contrary to the accepted religious belief. Remember, it was common cultural belief that people suffered because of sin. Some of the Galileans were murdered by Pilate, and the people who come to Jesus intimate that somehow they were responsible for their own deaths at the hands of Pilate. Jesus says that those people were no worse than any other Galileans. Neither were the eighteen who were crushed by the tower of Siloam. ...and, says Jesus, everyone sins. Everyone is less than perfect, and no one is any better than anyone else. You can almost see the eyebrows of the religious leaders going straight up into their hairlines.
Then he goes on to tell one of his stories about the realm of God, and what it is like. The second part of the scripture. ...then there are two parts to the story of the tree - the roots which need feeding, before the fruit can come.
Yesterday, at the coffee and conversation get together, we got slightly off into plants that don’t bloom. I have two orchids which have sat proudly putting out lots of nice green and healthy robust leaves; they were very muscular plants, but not a sign of a bloom. I got mad. I stuck them in the front window, fertilised, and told them if they didn’t bloom they were going out into the trash. Miraculously those two orchids are now putting forth spikes and preparing to bloom.
So here is a tree - something which has been around longer than anything else - something which represents everything the children of Israel are, and it puts out leaves and branches year after year - but no fruit. Jesus was a master at using ordinary commonplace everyday things as a vehicle for teaching something really important and profound.
So he has dismissed out of hand the idea that tragedy and sin are related. These things were not (and are not) God's doing. They are terrible tragedies, and God weeps at the senselessness of the acts. Were the people who died in the bombing of the trains in Spain worse than others? Were those who died in the world trade centre worse than others? No!! They died because of random acts of violence. None of these calamities was God's doing, none of them was a punishment. Jesus wants people to understand that suffering is random. But Jesus also is saying that we all have a need to return, to repent, and to do something with our lives before we too are gone.
To repent is to get ourselves back on track, to be in right relationship with God. Sin is being out of right relations with God. To repent is to reconnect with God, to stop doing the things that hurt us and others. God calls us to repent because if we don't, our souls perish. Just as the fig tree is offered a second chance to produce fruit, God offers us a chance to begin again, to live a life of abundance.
The owner of the fig tree wants to cut it down. It's taking up precious land, soil, and time. The gardener says "Give it one more year. I'll dig around it, put manure around it. Now, this makes sense, doesn’t it? Tree roots, like everything else, need oxygen in the soil, they need to breathe. I don't know about you, but I can identify with the fig tree. Every time I turn around, there is a second chance. But there’s the critical part, too. The roots have to be dug around, the soil loosened so the air can get in, good old stinky manure spread around to give nourishment. So it is with people. We have to dig down to our roots, let some air in, fertilise with study and reflection, taking out what we’ve always believed and giving it a good second look. Is this who we are? We have to remember, we aren’t in it alone. God helps us to grow, helping us garden our lives and bearing fruit.
Anna Murdock, who continues to offer plenty of food for thought to scripture discussions, tells a story about an elderly man in her church. His back yard was filled with fig trees. He and his wife spent the fruitful season making jams and cobblers, and bagging up fresh figs. They would go throughout the town, knocking on doors and giving little gifts of their overabundance. He not only understood about looking after trees, he understood about the soul, the roots, and how essential healthy roots are in the gardens of our souls.
Sources:
1. Anna Murdock, story on “Midrash”, Woodlake Books.
2. From the sermon “One More Year”, by Rev. Cynthia Huling Hummel
3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_fig
What do we know about fig trees? Not much, probably because we don’t see them a lot. Fig trees are quite common in areas of the world with a Mediterranean climate, which includes the southern US, California and Texas. They can be picked twice, and even three times in a year. Figs have been an important food crop for thousands of years, and are one of the very first plants cultivated by humans. In Gilgal, in the Jordan Valley just north of Jericho, no fewer than nine subfossil figs dating to about 9400–9200 BC - the Neolithic age - were found. This find predates the domestication of wheat, barley, and legumes.
So when Jesus talks about fig trees, as he does in various places in the Gospels, he is using a symbol which has been around as long as the Israelite people remember. He isn’t using some rare esoteric plant that hardly anyone would relate to, he is using literally the most common food source around.
But there’s another little piece in this scripture which needs to be noted. The translation I just read uses the word fertiliser, but the Greek word is kopria, which means literally “manure”. So the gardener says to the owner “Leave it with me for a year or so. I will prune it and give it lots of manure.”
So here we have a scripture in two parts - first, Jesus saying something totally contrary to the accepted religious belief. Remember, it was common cultural belief that people suffered because of sin. Some of the Galileans were murdered by Pilate, and the people who come to Jesus intimate that somehow they were responsible for their own deaths at the hands of Pilate. Jesus says that those people were no worse than any other Galileans. Neither were the eighteen who were crushed by the tower of Siloam. ...and, says Jesus, everyone sins. Everyone is less than perfect, and no one is any better than anyone else. You can almost see the eyebrows of the religious leaders going straight up into their hairlines.
Then he goes on to tell one of his stories about the realm of God, and what it is like. The second part of the scripture. ...then there are two parts to the story of the tree - the roots which need feeding, before the fruit can come.
Yesterday, at the coffee and conversation get together, we got slightly off into plants that don’t bloom. I have two orchids which have sat proudly putting out lots of nice green and healthy robust leaves; they were very muscular plants, but not a sign of a bloom. I got mad. I stuck them in the front window, fertilised, and told them if they didn’t bloom they were going out into the trash. Miraculously those two orchids are now putting forth spikes and preparing to bloom.
So here is a tree - something which has been around longer than anything else - something which represents everything the children of Israel are, and it puts out leaves and branches year after year - but no fruit. Jesus was a master at using ordinary commonplace everyday things as a vehicle for teaching something really important and profound.
So he has dismissed out of hand the idea that tragedy and sin are related. These things were not (and are not) God's doing. They are terrible tragedies, and God weeps at the senselessness of the acts. Were the people who died in the bombing of the trains in Spain worse than others? Were those who died in the world trade centre worse than others? No!! They died because of random acts of violence. None of these calamities was God's doing, none of them was a punishment. Jesus wants people to understand that suffering is random. But Jesus also is saying that we all have a need to return, to repent, and to do something with our lives before we too are gone.
To repent is to get ourselves back on track, to be in right relationship with God. Sin is being out of right relations with God. To repent is to reconnect with God, to stop doing the things that hurt us and others. God calls us to repent because if we don't, our souls perish. Just as the fig tree is offered a second chance to produce fruit, God offers us a chance to begin again, to live a life of abundance.
The owner of the fig tree wants to cut it down. It's taking up precious land, soil, and time. The gardener says "Give it one more year. I'll dig around it, put manure around it. Now, this makes sense, doesn’t it? Tree roots, like everything else, need oxygen in the soil, they need to breathe. I don't know about you, but I can identify with the fig tree. Every time I turn around, there is a second chance. But there’s the critical part, too. The roots have to be dug around, the soil loosened so the air can get in, good old stinky manure spread around to give nourishment. So it is with people. We have to dig down to our roots, let some air in, fertilise with study and reflection, taking out what we’ve always believed and giving it a good second look. Is this who we are? We have to remember, we aren’t in it alone. God helps us to grow, helping us garden our lives and bearing fruit.
Anna Murdock, who continues to offer plenty of food for thought to scripture discussions, tells a story about an elderly man in her church. His back yard was filled with fig trees. He and his wife spent the fruitful season making jams and cobblers, and bagging up fresh figs. They would go throughout the town, knocking on doors and giving little gifts of their overabundance. He not only understood about looking after trees, he understood about the soul, the roots, and how essential healthy roots are in the gardens of our souls.
Sources:
1. Anna Murdock, story on “Midrash”, Woodlake Books.
2. From the sermon “One More Year”, by Rev. Cynthia Huling Hummel
3. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_fig
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Foxes in the Henhouse? February 28, 2010 Second Sunday in Lent Glen Ayr United Church, Luke 13:31-35
Today in Jerusalem, part of a wall built by Herod the Great still stands. Herod had embarked on a huge project, to renovate the temple in Jerusalem. Less than 100 years later the temple was torn down by the Romans, and the only remaining piece was the section of wall. It is known to us as the Western Wall, where worshippers gather on Friday evening - the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath - for prayers. There is an incredible reverence attached to this wall.
On the place called Temple Mount, just beyond the wall, are two Muslim holy places built on the site where the temple stood. Muslims believe that Mohammad ascended into heaven and received the Koran on this mountain. It is one of their holiest sites.
In the Middle East today, there are people on both sides who would be willing to give up territory to stop the conflict. Unfortunately the one thing on which neither can agree is who controls Jerusalem. The city is so central to the faith of both groups, that neither wants to give up the control or the power. They are willing to resort to violence to retain that control. In my mind this is religion gone awry, religion confused by a need of people to be “on top”, religion which attaches identity to a place, and makes the place most important.
Jerusalem was the capital of Israel as a unified kingdom under David and Solomon. When the kingdom was divided, Jerusalem continued as the capital of the southern nation of Judah. David’s descendants ruled over Judah for over 400 years, until the Babylonians destroyed the city and deported the entire royal family. By the time Jesus came along, there was no Jewish state at all, and no descendant of David on the throne. The new capital city was Caesarea. Regardless, Jerusalem was still a holy place, the Jews had been freed from exile in Babylon and allowed to build a new temple - but in no way was it as incredible as that of Solomon. Then, about 20 years before Jesus’ birth, Herod the Great began his massive renovation of the temple which continued for thirty years after Jesus’death - in total over 80 years of work.
It is important to remember that the identity of the Jewish people was “God's Chosen”, and to them the temple was the place where God lived. More than anything else, the temple was central to Jewish identity, and still is.
Well, there’s your history lesson in a nutshell for today. It’s important, because it puts Jesus’ comments into context. Jesus calls Jerusalem the city that kills prophets. In Jesus’ view the importance attached to Jerusalem was used as an excuse to persecute and oppress, an excuse for power over and control of, rather than a place where people are liberated.
Times don’t change much do they? People don’t change much, obviously. We live in a world obsessed with power, status and control. It doesn't matter whether it is at the global level, national level or even the office of the church; power, status and control seem to be the real coin of the realm.
Jesus was no stranger to these games of power, status and control. Time and time again he spoke out against those religious leaders who wanted the seats at the best tables as opposed to being with people. He condemned those who paraded in their religious finery. He proclaimed repeatedly that the last shall be first and the first, last. I think what galled some of the religious leaders most was that Jesus was a Pharisaic Jew, and his words cut directly to them. Although temple renovation was going ahead and Jews were allowed to practice their faith, they also had to be careful. Herod was basically under the thumb of the occupying Romans and was sucking up to them more than looking after his own people. However, I also choose to read this passage as indicating that some of the Pharisees saw the truth of Jesus’ words, and knew Herod would not take Jesus’ words so well, so they tried to warn him.
There is a reality here. Nothing alarms people who have power more than being told that the people at the bottom will come out on top, and vice versa. Jesus understands the world of politics, and power - and when he is given a warning, he does what he always does - confronts the issue directly and with clarity.
Jesus has been going through the countryside, teaching in various towns - slowly going towards Jerusalem. In verses 29 and 30, he is teaching about what the realm of God will be like. He says “People will come from all over the world - from east, west, north and south - to take their places in God’s realm. Note this: some who may seem least important now will be the greatest then, and some who are the greatest now will be least important then.”
Then we pick up today’s text: “Some Pharisees said to him, “Get away from here if you want to live! Herod Antipas wants to kill you!” Jesus replied, “Go and tell that fox that I have no time for him, for I am busy casting out demons and healing people today and tomorrow; and the third day I will accomplish my purpose. Yes, today, tomorrow, and the next day I must proceed on my way; for it wouldn’t do for a prophet of God to be killed except in Jerusalem!
...and then he weeps as he speaks -
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones God’s messengers! How often I have wanted to gather your children together, as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn’t let me. Now, look, your house is abandoned, and it is too late.”
He knows the game of power that Herod and some of the leaders are playing, and he says that his own activities of proclaiming the realm of God where the last come first, will not stop, that his activities will take him to Jerusalem, to the centre of Roman power, and he will die.
Here is the vision. The henhouse is full of foxes, and Jesus the prophet comes along to say that the realm of God is a place where the very least will be first; where the powerful lose their status. The foxes will be turfed out of the henhouse.; and the powers of Caesar quake in their boots.
In 2010, things in Jerusalem have not changed much. Things in the world have not changed much. Herod Antipas and those around him wear many faces. The poor of Vancouver’s Lower East Side are covered up and pushed aside, not by the athletes but by organisers who are more concerned about power, control, and image. Money and power try to control economies and countries - and often those who try to remove oppression lose their lives for it. Those who try to be honest, and blow the whistle on dishonest business lose their livelihoods and get blamed. But Herod, the old fox in the henhouse, no matter what his name in 2010, is not as much in control as he thinks. God who lives beyond all powers and principalities, all control and oppression, continues to demonstrate the reality of a new realm, just when the powers think everything is going their way.
This week in Lent, perhaps it’s good to reflect on power, and those who speak truth to power, as Jesus did. Do we speak truth to power? Or do we prefer to just focus on keeping ourselves alive? Who are the foxes who distract us from what we believe is God’s purpose in the world?
Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor says "If you have ever loved someone you could not protect, then you understand the depth of Jesus' lament. All you can do is open your arms. You cannot make anyone walk into them. Meanwhile, this is the most vulnerable posture in the world --wings spread, breast exposed --but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand. ... Jesus won't be king of the jungle in this or any other story. What he will be is a mother hen, who stands between the chicks and those who mean to do them harm. She has no fangs, no claws, no rippling muscles. All she has is her willingness to shield her babies with her own body. If the fox wants them, he will have to kill her first; which he does, as it turns out. He slides up on her one night in the yard while all the babies are asleep. When her cry wakens them, they scatter.
She dies the next day where both foxes and chickens can see her -- wings spread, breast exposed -- without a single chick beneath her feathers. It breaks her heart . . . but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand."
Sources:
1. “The Foxes are Not in Control”, by Rev. David Shearman, Central Westside United Church, Owen Sound, ON.
2. “Sanctuary” by Rev. Richard Gehring, formerly Manhattan Mennonite Church, Manhattan, Kansas.
3. "Chickens and Foxes", by Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor, in Bread of Angels. Cowley Publications, 1997.
On the place called Temple Mount, just beyond the wall, are two Muslim holy places built on the site where the temple stood. Muslims believe that Mohammad ascended into heaven and received the Koran on this mountain. It is one of their holiest sites.
In the Middle East today, there are people on both sides who would be willing to give up territory to stop the conflict. Unfortunately the one thing on which neither can agree is who controls Jerusalem. The city is so central to the faith of both groups, that neither wants to give up the control or the power. They are willing to resort to violence to retain that control. In my mind this is religion gone awry, religion confused by a need of people to be “on top”, religion which attaches identity to a place, and makes the place most important.
Jerusalem was the capital of Israel as a unified kingdom under David and Solomon. When the kingdom was divided, Jerusalem continued as the capital of the southern nation of Judah. David’s descendants ruled over Judah for over 400 years, until the Babylonians destroyed the city and deported the entire royal family. By the time Jesus came along, there was no Jewish state at all, and no descendant of David on the throne. The new capital city was Caesarea. Regardless, Jerusalem was still a holy place, the Jews had been freed from exile in Babylon and allowed to build a new temple - but in no way was it as incredible as that of Solomon. Then, about 20 years before Jesus’ birth, Herod the Great began his massive renovation of the temple which continued for thirty years after Jesus’death - in total over 80 years of work.
It is important to remember that the identity of the Jewish people was “God's Chosen”, and to them the temple was the place where God lived. More than anything else, the temple was central to Jewish identity, and still is.
Well, there’s your history lesson in a nutshell for today. It’s important, because it puts Jesus’ comments into context. Jesus calls Jerusalem the city that kills prophets. In Jesus’ view the importance attached to Jerusalem was used as an excuse to persecute and oppress, an excuse for power over and control of, rather than a place where people are liberated.
Times don’t change much do they? People don’t change much, obviously. We live in a world obsessed with power, status and control. It doesn't matter whether it is at the global level, national level or even the office of the church; power, status and control seem to be the real coin of the realm.
Jesus was no stranger to these games of power, status and control. Time and time again he spoke out against those religious leaders who wanted the seats at the best tables as opposed to being with people. He condemned those who paraded in their religious finery. He proclaimed repeatedly that the last shall be first and the first, last. I think what galled some of the religious leaders most was that Jesus was a Pharisaic Jew, and his words cut directly to them. Although temple renovation was going ahead and Jews were allowed to practice their faith, they also had to be careful. Herod was basically under the thumb of the occupying Romans and was sucking up to them more than looking after his own people. However, I also choose to read this passage as indicating that some of the Pharisees saw the truth of Jesus’ words, and knew Herod would not take Jesus’ words so well, so they tried to warn him.
There is a reality here. Nothing alarms people who have power more than being told that the people at the bottom will come out on top, and vice versa. Jesus understands the world of politics, and power - and when he is given a warning, he does what he always does - confronts the issue directly and with clarity.
Jesus has been going through the countryside, teaching in various towns - slowly going towards Jerusalem. In verses 29 and 30, he is teaching about what the realm of God will be like. He says “People will come from all over the world - from east, west, north and south - to take their places in God’s realm. Note this: some who may seem least important now will be the greatest then, and some who are the greatest now will be least important then.”
Then we pick up today’s text: “Some Pharisees said to him, “Get away from here if you want to live! Herod Antipas wants to kill you!” Jesus replied, “Go and tell that fox that I have no time for him, for I am busy casting out demons and healing people today and tomorrow; and the third day I will accomplish my purpose. Yes, today, tomorrow, and the next day I must proceed on my way; for it wouldn’t do for a prophet of God to be killed except in Jerusalem!
...and then he weeps as he speaks -
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones God’s messengers! How often I have wanted to gather your children together, as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn’t let me. Now, look, your house is abandoned, and it is too late.”
He knows the game of power that Herod and some of the leaders are playing, and he says that his own activities of proclaiming the realm of God where the last come first, will not stop, that his activities will take him to Jerusalem, to the centre of Roman power, and he will die.
Here is the vision. The henhouse is full of foxes, and Jesus the prophet comes along to say that the realm of God is a place where the very least will be first; where the powerful lose their status. The foxes will be turfed out of the henhouse.; and the powers of Caesar quake in their boots.
In 2010, things in Jerusalem have not changed much. Things in the world have not changed much. Herod Antipas and those around him wear many faces. The poor of Vancouver’s Lower East Side are covered up and pushed aside, not by the athletes but by organisers who are more concerned about power, control, and image. Money and power try to control economies and countries - and often those who try to remove oppression lose their lives for it. Those who try to be honest, and blow the whistle on dishonest business lose their livelihoods and get blamed. But Herod, the old fox in the henhouse, no matter what his name in 2010, is not as much in control as he thinks. God who lives beyond all powers and principalities, all control and oppression, continues to demonstrate the reality of a new realm, just when the powers think everything is going their way.
This week in Lent, perhaps it’s good to reflect on power, and those who speak truth to power, as Jesus did. Do we speak truth to power? Or do we prefer to just focus on keeping ourselves alive? Who are the foxes who distract us from what we believe is God’s purpose in the world?
Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor says "If you have ever loved someone you could not protect, then you understand the depth of Jesus' lament. All you can do is open your arms. You cannot make anyone walk into them. Meanwhile, this is the most vulnerable posture in the world --wings spread, breast exposed --but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand. ... Jesus won't be king of the jungle in this or any other story. What he will be is a mother hen, who stands between the chicks and those who mean to do them harm. She has no fangs, no claws, no rippling muscles. All she has is her willingness to shield her babies with her own body. If the fox wants them, he will have to kill her first; which he does, as it turns out. He slides up on her one night in the yard while all the babies are asleep. When her cry wakens them, they scatter.
She dies the next day where both foxes and chickens can see her -- wings spread, breast exposed -- without a single chick beneath her feathers. It breaks her heart . . . but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand."
Sources:
1. “The Foxes are Not in Control”, by Rev. David Shearman, Central Westside United Church, Owen Sound, ON.
2. “Sanctuary” by Rev. Richard Gehring, formerly Manhattan Mennonite Church, Manhattan, Kansas.
3. "Chickens and Foxes", by Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor, in Bread of Angels. Cowley Publications, 1997.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
“Out in the Wilderness” Luke 4:1-13 February 21, 2010 First Sunday in Lent Glen Ayr United Church
Then Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan River. He was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where he was tempted by the devil for forty days. Jesus ate nothing all that time and became very hungry.
Then the devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become a loaf of bread.”
But Jesus told him, “No! The Scriptures say, ‘People do not live by bread alone.’” Then the devil revealed to him all the kingdoms of the world in one moment. “I will give you the glory of these kingdoms and authority over them,” the devil said, “because they are mine to give to anyone I please. I will give it all to you if you will worship me.” Jesus replied, “The Scriptures say, ‘You must worship and serve only God.’” Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, to the highest point of the Temple, and said, “If you are the Son of God, jump off! For the Scriptures say, ‘He will order his angels to protect and guard you. And they will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.’” Jesus responded, “The Scriptures also say, ‘You must not test God.’” When the devil had finished tempting Jesus, he left him until the next opportunity came.
******************************************************************
Toad baked some cookies. "These cookies smell very good," said Toad. He ate one. "And they taste even better," he said.
Toad ran to Frog's house. "Frog, Frog," cried Toad, "taste these cookies that I have made."
Frog ate one of the cookies, "These are the best cookies I have ever eaten!" said Frog.
Frog and Toad ate many cookies, one after another. "You know, Toad," said Frog, with his mouth full, "I think we should stop eating. We will soon be sick."
"You are right," said Toad. "Let us eat one last cookie, and then we will stop." Frog and Toad ate one last cookie. There were many cookies left in the bowl.
"Frog," said Toad, "let us eat one very last cookie, and then we will stop." Frog and Toad ate one very last cookie.
"We must stop eating!" cried Toad as he ate another.
"Yes," said Frog, reaching for a cookie, "we need willpower."
"What is willpower?" asked Toad.
"Willpower is trying hard not to do something you really want to do," said Frog.
"You mean like trying hard not to eat all these cookies?" asked Toad.
"Right," said Frog.
Frog put the cookies in a box. "There," he said. "Now we will not eat any more cookies."
"But we can open the box," said Toad.
"That is true," said Frog.
Frog tied some string around the box. "There," he said. "Now we will not eat any more cookies."
"But we can cut the string and open the box." said Toad.
"That is true," said Frog. Frog got a ladder. He put the box up on a high shelf.
"There," said Frog. "Now we will not eat any more cookies."
"But we can climb the ladder and take the box down from the shelf and cut the string and open the box," said Toad.
"That is true," said Frog.
Frog climbed the ladder and took the box down from the shelf. He cut the string and opened the box. Frog took the box outside. He shouted in a loud voice. "Hey, birds, here are cookies!" Birds came from everywhere. They picked up all the cookies in their beaks and flew away.
"Now we have no more cookies to eat," said Toad sadly. "Not even one."
"Yes," said Frog, "but we have lots and lots of willpower."
"You may keep it all, Frog," said Toad. "I am going home now to bake a cake."
******************************************************************
It’s always interesting to look at how each of the Gospels treats particular stories. Matthew and Luke tell us of the testing of Jesus; Mark gives it a couple of sentences, and John doesn’t even think it’s worth a mention.
It’s also interesting that in Hebrew, the word Satan means “the opposer”. Luke gives us a whole story; one of the interesting things about *this* version is that the “opposer” is quite literate in understanding of scripture. He knows exactly how to test Jesus, and in this wilderness where there is hunger for many things, knows what things would be hardest to resist. Of course, Jesus - even though he is tired and famished - and not quite all there - knows the answers. He knows how to say “No”.
For me, there are a few key things in this story.
It takes place in “the wilderness”, whatever that means. Is it a literal wilderness - and by that I mean, a desert? Or is it a place where there are no people - probably not hard to find. Or is it a journey inside the self - a place of unknowns, where Jesus really has to face himself, and is tested.
The Spirit led him, so we can assume he went relatively willingly; Luke implies he was filled with and inspired by, the Holy Spirit.
He didn’t take anything with him other than the clothes on his back. He was there forty days and nights, or almost six weeks. Now, forty is a good Biblical number, so let’s just assume he was in his wilderness for a very long time.
Now, if he literally went into a remote place, we can assume he was skinny, filthy, stinky, and pretty darned hungry.
So let’s try to put some of this together a little more. Jesus is inspired by the Spirit to go off by himself, somewhere away from people and food, to spend time with himself in silence. He knows that he has human failings, like everyone else; but he is also trained in the faith of the Israelite people, and after his baptism he is fairly sure he has a call to ministry. The one who opposes him tries everything - offering food, knowing he would be hungry; offering power, recognising his abilities. Jesus is able to say no, despite his hunger and despite recognising that he could have great power if he chose; he also knows what he would have to give up in return.
In the cycle of the Christian year, beginning with Ash Wednesday and ending on Easter Sunday, Christians have observed the period of “Lent” as a kind of wilderness experience. In some periods in the church, sacrifice and physical punishment of the self took place. But in general Lent has not been about “giving up” or “punishing” ourselves. The word Lent itself is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words lencten, meaning "Spring," and lenctentid, which literally means not only "Springtide" but also was the word for "March," the month in which the majority of Lent falls. Lent is to be forty days, not including Sundays.
Since the earliest times of the Church, there is evidence of some kind of Lenten preparation for Easter. Irenaeus, who died in 203 CE, wrote to Pope Victor I, commenting on the celebration of Easter and the differences between practices in the East and the West: "The dispute is not only about the day, but also about the actual character of the fast. Some think that they ought to fast for one day, some for two, others for still more; some make their 'day' last 40 hours on end. Such variation in the observance did not originate in our own day, but very much earlier, in the time of our forefathers" meaning the time of the disciples. Pope Leo, who died in 461 CE, preached that the faithful must "fulfill with their fasts the Apostolic institution of the 40 days," again noting the apostolic origins of Lent. The intent was that it was to be a time of prayer and fasting - as Jesus did.
The period of Lent and the emphasis on prayer and fasting is also a reference to the growth of the human soul, as if a plant. Gardeners know that plants have to be pruned, fertilised, mulched and watered. In the growth of the human soul, care has to be taken to ensure that it will grow and become green.
Winter can be seen as a wilderness time. Everything appears to die, and it’s only in the spring when the sun and rains come back, that the growth cycle starts. It may be that in order for our souls to grow, a little time spent with less rather than more, a little time cutting back on something really critical - might just be good for us. I don’t mean something frivolous like not watching one favourite TV show, or giving up cookies and baking cake instead, like Frog and Toad. I am talking about removing the things which distract us - perhaps we might say the things which oppose the growth of our souls.
This forty days of Lent is a gift to us for our wise use. It isn’t just a part of the church year with no meaning. Jesus went into a wilderness - whatever that meant - to learn about himself. Had he given in to any one of those very real human failings, the growth of his soul would have been stunted. We have a short forty days - just under six weeks - to learn again what is really important in life, and what our lives can be like without all the distractions we stuff into them. We do it one day at a time. We go, like Jesus, into a place of silence and prayer. We breathe, have a little water, and allow God to do some pruning and mulching, down there where the roots don’t really show.
The question is, when we get ourselves severed from the distractions, can we stand the silence? Silence can be pretty loud sometimes, can’t it? The question also is, can we stand ourselves when we look in there? What are we like in the wilderness? We have to ask ourselves what devils, what opposers are there in our lives? What opposers have our number? Do we really take spiritual time seriously? Or is there so much we just “have” to have in our life, that there is no time for a trip to the wilderness?
Sources:
1. “Frog and Toad” can be found at http://www.sermonillustrations.com/a-z/t/temptation.htm
Ray & Anne Ortlund, Renewal, Navpress, 1989, p. 73-74.
2. History of Lent, by Rev. William Saunders. Arlington Catholic Herald.
Then the devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become a loaf of bread.”
But Jesus told him, “No! The Scriptures say, ‘People do not live by bread alone.’” Then the devil revealed to him all the kingdoms of the world in one moment. “I will give you the glory of these kingdoms and authority over them,” the devil said, “because they are mine to give to anyone I please. I will give it all to you if you will worship me.” Jesus replied, “The Scriptures say, ‘You must worship and serve only God.’” Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, to the highest point of the Temple, and said, “If you are the Son of God, jump off! For the Scriptures say, ‘He will order his angels to protect and guard you. And they will hold you up with their hands so you won’t even hurt your foot on a stone.’” Jesus responded, “The Scriptures also say, ‘You must not test God.’” When the devil had finished tempting Jesus, he left him until the next opportunity came.
******************************************************************
Toad baked some cookies. "These cookies smell very good," said Toad. He ate one. "And they taste even better," he said.
Toad ran to Frog's house. "Frog, Frog," cried Toad, "taste these cookies that I have made."
Frog ate one of the cookies, "These are the best cookies I have ever eaten!" said Frog.
Frog and Toad ate many cookies, one after another. "You know, Toad," said Frog, with his mouth full, "I think we should stop eating. We will soon be sick."
"You are right," said Toad. "Let us eat one last cookie, and then we will stop." Frog and Toad ate one last cookie. There were many cookies left in the bowl.
"Frog," said Toad, "let us eat one very last cookie, and then we will stop." Frog and Toad ate one very last cookie.
"We must stop eating!" cried Toad as he ate another.
"Yes," said Frog, reaching for a cookie, "we need willpower."
"What is willpower?" asked Toad.
"Willpower is trying hard not to do something you really want to do," said Frog.
"You mean like trying hard not to eat all these cookies?" asked Toad.
"Right," said Frog.
Frog put the cookies in a box. "There," he said. "Now we will not eat any more cookies."
"But we can open the box," said Toad.
"That is true," said Frog.
Frog tied some string around the box. "There," he said. "Now we will not eat any more cookies."
"But we can cut the string and open the box." said Toad.
"That is true," said Frog. Frog got a ladder. He put the box up on a high shelf.
"There," said Frog. "Now we will not eat any more cookies."
"But we can climb the ladder and take the box down from the shelf and cut the string and open the box," said Toad.
"That is true," said Frog.
Frog climbed the ladder and took the box down from the shelf. He cut the string and opened the box. Frog took the box outside. He shouted in a loud voice. "Hey, birds, here are cookies!" Birds came from everywhere. They picked up all the cookies in their beaks and flew away.
"Now we have no more cookies to eat," said Toad sadly. "Not even one."
"Yes," said Frog, "but we have lots and lots of willpower."
"You may keep it all, Frog," said Toad. "I am going home now to bake a cake."
******************************************************************
It’s always interesting to look at how each of the Gospels treats particular stories. Matthew and Luke tell us of the testing of Jesus; Mark gives it a couple of sentences, and John doesn’t even think it’s worth a mention.
It’s also interesting that in Hebrew, the word Satan means “the opposer”. Luke gives us a whole story; one of the interesting things about *this* version is that the “opposer” is quite literate in understanding of scripture. He knows exactly how to test Jesus, and in this wilderness where there is hunger for many things, knows what things would be hardest to resist. Of course, Jesus - even though he is tired and famished - and not quite all there - knows the answers. He knows how to say “No”.
For me, there are a few key things in this story.
It takes place in “the wilderness”, whatever that means. Is it a literal wilderness - and by that I mean, a desert? Or is it a place where there are no people - probably not hard to find. Or is it a journey inside the self - a place of unknowns, where Jesus really has to face himself, and is tested.
The Spirit led him, so we can assume he went relatively willingly; Luke implies he was filled with and inspired by, the Holy Spirit.
He didn’t take anything with him other than the clothes on his back. He was there forty days and nights, or almost six weeks. Now, forty is a good Biblical number, so let’s just assume he was in his wilderness for a very long time.
Now, if he literally went into a remote place, we can assume he was skinny, filthy, stinky, and pretty darned hungry.
So let’s try to put some of this together a little more. Jesus is inspired by the Spirit to go off by himself, somewhere away from people and food, to spend time with himself in silence. He knows that he has human failings, like everyone else; but he is also trained in the faith of the Israelite people, and after his baptism he is fairly sure he has a call to ministry. The one who opposes him tries everything - offering food, knowing he would be hungry; offering power, recognising his abilities. Jesus is able to say no, despite his hunger and despite recognising that he could have great power if he chose; he also knows what he would have to give up in return.
In the cycle of the Christian year, beginning with Ash Wednesday and ending on Easter Sunday, Christians have observed the period of “Lent” as a kind of wilderness experience. In some periods in the church, sacrifice and physical punishment of the self took place. But in general Lent has not been about “giving up” or “punishing” ourselves. The word Lent itself is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words lencten, meaning "Spring," and lenctentid, which literally means not only "Springtide" but also was the word for "March," the month in which the majority of Lent falls. Lent is to be forty days, not including Sundays.
Since the earliest times of the Church, there is evidence of some kind of Lenten preparation for Easter. Irenaeus, who died in 203 CE, wrote to Pope Victor I, commenting on the celebration of Easter and the differences between practices in the East and the West: "The dispute is not only about the day, but also about the actual character of the fast. Some think that they ought to fast for one day, some for two, others for still more; some make their 'day' last 40 hours on end. Such variation in the observance did not originate in our own day, but very much earlier, in the time of our forefathers" meaning the time of the disciples. Pope Leo, who died in 461 CE, preached that the faithful must "fulfill with their fasts the Apostolic institution of the 40 days," again noting the apostolic origins of Lent. The intent was that it was to be a time of prayer and fasting - as Jesus did.
The period of Lent and the emphasis on prayer and fasting is also a reference to the growth of the human soul, as if a plant. Gardeners know that plants have to be pruned, fertilised, mulched and watered. In the growth of the human soul, care has to be taken to ensure that it will grow and become green.
Winter can be seen as a wilderness time. Everything appears to die, and it’s only in the spring when the sun and rains come back, that the growth cycle starts. It may be that in order for our souls to grow, a little time spent with less rather than more, a little time cutting back on something really critical - might just be good for us. I don’t mean something frivolous like not watching one favourite TV show, or giving up cookies and baking cake instead, like Frog and Toad. I am talking about removing the things which distract us - perhaps we might say the things which oppose the growth of our souls.
This forty days of Lent is a gift to us for our wise use. It isn’t just a part of the church year with no meaning. Jesus went into a wilderness - whatever that meant - to learn about himself. Had he given in to any one of those very real human failings, the growth of his soul would have been stunted. We have a short forty days - just under six weeks - to learn again what is really important in life, and what our lives can be like without all the distractions we stuff into them. We do it one day at a time. We go, like Jesus, into a place of silence and prayer. We breathe, have a little water, and allow God to do some pruning and mulching, down there where the roots don’t really show.
The question is, when we get ourselves severed from the distractions, can we stand the silence? Silence can be pretty loud sometimes, can’t it? The question also is, can we stand ourselves when we look in there? What are we like in the wilderness? We have to ask ourselves what devils, what opposers are there in our lives? What opposers have our number? Do we really take spiritual time seriously? Or is there so much we just “have” to have in our life, that there is no time for a trip to the wilderness?
Sources:
1. “Frog and Toad” can be found at http://www.sermonillustrations.com/a-z/t/temptation.htm
Ray & Anne Ortlund, Renewal, Navpress, 1989, p. 73-74.
2. History of Lent, by Rev. William Saunders. Arlington Catholic Herald.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
“Coming Down from the Light” February 14, 2010 Transfiguration Sunday Exodus 34:29-35, Luke 9:28-43
The long nights and the gray days
weary my body and bone
and I am lost in the last of winter.
The hungry blackbirds pick at the stalks
of another year’s growing,
mere skeletons in a ravaged field.
The old frozen snow is black, filthy stuff -
a remnant of longing and despair
from the white days of winter’s brightness.
If I did not know better,
I would be bleak and barren as the world.
But I have seen the glory -
seen the early green, the bulging bud,
the sun streaming through the seams
of the awakening maples.
I have seen the glory
of a world transfigured by Spring.
And so I squint through remembering eyes
at these wearying winter days,
daring them to do their worst, and say
“Just you wait. Just you wait.”
Moses goes up a mountain to speak to God, and returns with his face shining like the sun. He covers his face with a veil after that, except when he is in God’s presence - at those times he goes before God completely as himself.
Jesus takes three of the disciples up Mount Hermon - he is doing a bit of a mini-retreat - just needing some time to reflect, pray, gather himself. As usual, the three end up almost nodding off, but just as they are about to sleep, Jesus’ appearance changes - his face and clothes begin to glow.
In both cases, Moses and Jesus have a transcendent experience which changes them right at the very heart of their spiritual core - and the experience is so profound it shines out of them.
My colleague, Anna Murdock, refers to the ‘thin places’ of the world. Anna writes “I have a dear friend who calls such a time a “heaven-touching-earth moment.” I refer to this as a God-moment. There are no words to give name adequately to such a time when the Divine Veil has been lifted in one’s presence. The radiance, the glory, God’s Presence and our deep desire to put a time such as this into immediate words all cause some stammering on our part - even confusion as to what has taken place.” Anna goes on to say “I feel as if I have the word “PETER” written across my forehead, as my heart wants to blurt out words that will prove themselves to be a jumbled-up mess. It is then that a holy finger presses against our lips and we hear “Shhhh - this is my sonm, my chosen. Listen to him.” and the Divine Veil is lifted if only for a moment.
What is a thin place? To discern the difference between an ordinary place and a thin place, one must use a spiritual perspective. In simple terms a ‘thin place’ is a place where the veil between this world and the Other world is thin, the Other world is more near. This meaning assumes the perceiver senses the existence of a world beyond what we know through our five senses.
Truth abides in thin places; naked, raw, hard to face truth. Yet the comfort, safety and strength to face that truth also abides there. Thin places captivate our imagination, yet diminish our existence. We become very small, yet we gain connection and become part of something larger than we can perceive. The human spirit is awakened and will grow if the body and mind allow it. Simply put, a thin place is a place where one feels that mysterious power.
In his Spiritual Message to the World in 1931, Mahatma Gandhi said, “There is an indefinable, mysterious power that pervades everything. I feel it, though I do not see it. It is this unseen power that makes itself felt and yet defies all proof, because it is so unlike all that I perceive through my senses. It transcends the senses”
So Jesus and his three closest friends Peter, James and John up the highest mountain in the area. As they stop near the summit to catch their breath, Jesus’ face radiates light; his clothes became glistening white. Altitude sickness, all three of them? Could this have been what the Israelites had seen when Moses brought the Ten Commandments down from Sinai and his face shone so that he had to cover it?
The disciples had seen this glorious event in dumbstruck silence. Peter wanted to remain in the rarified atmosphere of this mountain-top experience and stop the clock. He had seen Paree; he didn't want to return to the farm. When he found his voice, he said to Jesus, "Master, it's a good thing that we are here; let us make three booths, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. Let's stay right here, Jesus. We've seen how glorious life can be. Let's preserve this glorious moment and not worry about going back from this light."
Jesus, you will note, didn’t even begin to try to answer. He had no words himself, and probably Peter’s stammering sounded like gibberish to him. He had a transfiguring and transforming experience which showed him what life could be, a glimpse of the incredible majesty and power of God.
And then - KLUNK!
All four of them stumble down from the mountain, still hyper-ventilating from the mountain-top experience. I am quite sure that Jesus was just as dumbstruck as the other three. It’s one thing to have faith, to believe that there is a God and to be committed to a life of prayer and ministry. It’s quite another thing to come face to face with that radiant glory, and walk away in any state other than tongue-tied.
Now, I’m interjecting a comment here - about lectionaries. If I had followed the lectionary, only the first part of this text - the transfiguration part - would have been included. But the following piece is critical to the whole story, because it is real life.
Moses, having been to one of those thin places and encountering the radiant presence of God, then has to come back down and try to explain to the Israelites. How mundane, to have to return from communing with God to explaining to a “stubborn and stiff-necked people” what his perception of God’s intent was.
So, we find Jesus and the disciples still pinching themselves, the three walking along with their eyes bugging out, Jesus probably wanting just to hold on to some quiet and reflective time; they get to the bottom of the mountain again and find a crowd waiting, and a man with an epileptic son, asking Jesus to help. The man says he asked the other disciples to heal his son, but they could not. And Jesus says the most human thing which I think ever came out his mouth. He says something like “Gawd, how long do I have to put up with this? Bring the boy to me.” Can you hear the utter exasperation in his voice? After such an experience, isn’t this the last thing one would want to deal with?
Remember, he’s just been to the mountaintop, had a transcendent spiritual experience, he is still mentally and spiritually back there. How mundane it must have seemed. How small compared to the grandeur of the previous moment. I can see him asking himself “Is this all there is? Is this what it’s about?” Was this experience destined to become, like so many religious experiences, only a dimly-remembered high moment in a never-ending sea of need?
Some of us may have had such an experience: a time when the universe makes sense, a glimpse of something far beyond the mundane of many todays - a time when we had no doubts, and found ourselves a part of the universe and could see with surety the next world.
Rev. Thomas Hall asks “why did this event become a treasured memory of the Church? What's the point of it? This experience doesn’t ever happen at my church-except maybe with the help of pyrotechnics and strobe lights. How do we relate to it?
He answers his own question. “This became an indelible memory because it could never be repeated. Some Christians go to the Bible stories to attempt to replicate what they read. Unfortunately, in the process, the Scriptures are turned into rigid formulae that now dictate our experiences. That's one reason we have so many versions of the Christian faith--we're trying to reduce the stories into rules, truths, formulae, and doctrines. And when we think we've got the truth we become intolerant of others who have discovered a different way to understand the same truth. Even our gospel writers place different interpretations on the Transfiguration experience. Mark sees it as a mountain top experience, Matthew as a vision, Luke as a prayer meeting. So let's be honest this morning and let this memory stand on its own without trying to squeeze it into our personal experiences.”
So we let the experience of transfiguration stand as it is - one brief moment of clarity and revelation - a stepping into a thin place for a moment, where two worlds touch; we catch a glimpse of radiant and transcendent glory. Then we come back to earth, to the people around us who hurt and need healing, to the ordinary and everyday, things which look drab and mundane. The trick is to look at those ordinary, everyday things which appear drab by comparison, remove the veil from our own eyes, and see the glory there as well.
Sometimes on the rarest nights
comes the vision calm and clear,
gleaming with unearthly lights
on our path of doubt and fear.
Winds from that far land are blown,
whispering with secret breath--
hope that plays a tune alone,
love that conquers pain and death.
Sources:
1. Poem “Late Winter”, by Rev. Tim Haut, Deep River Pastoral Charge, 2002.
2. Anna Murdock, from "Shhhhh....Listen!" Luke 9:28-36 Ponderings for Transfiguration Sunday 2010
3. A description of thin places, www.thinplaces.net
4. Sermon “A Mountaintop Experience”, by Dr. David Rogne, retired pastor United Methodist Church USA
5. Sermon “Prayer Mountain” by Rev. Thomas Hall, Mayflower UCC, Billings, MT.
6. “Land of Might-Have-Been”, song by Jeremy Northam, from the movie Gosford Park 2001.
weary my body and bone
and I am lost in the last of winter.
The hungry blackbirds pick at the stalks
of another year’s growing,
mere skeletons in a ravaged field.
The old frozen snow is black, filthy stuff -
a remnant of longing and despair
from the white days of winter’s brightness.
If I did not know better,
I would be bleak and barren as the world.
But I have seen the glory -
seen the early green, the bulging bud,
the sun streaming through the seams
of the awakening maples.
I have seen the glory
of a world transfigured by Spring.
And so I squint through remembering eyes
at these wearying winter days,
daring them to do their worst, and say
“Just you wait. Just you wait.”
Moses goes up a mountain to speak to God, and returns with his face shining like the sun. He covers his face with a veil after that, except when he is in God’s presence - at those times he goes before God completely as himself.
Jesus takes three of the disciples up Mount Hermon - he is doing a bit of a mini-retreat - just needing some time to reflect, pray, gather himself. As usual, the three end up almost nodding off, but just as they are about to sleep, Jesus’ appearance changes - his face and clothes begin to glow.
In both cases, Moses and Jesus have a transcendent experience which changes them right at the very heart of their spiritual core - and the experience is so profound it shines out of them.
My colleague, Anna Murdock, refers to the ‘thin places’ of the world. Anna writes “I have a dear friend who calls such a time a “heaven-touching-earth moment.” I refer to this as a God-moment. There are no words to give name adequately to such a time when the Divine Veil has been lifted in one’s presence. The radiance, the glory, God’s Presence and our deep desire to put a time such as this into immediate words all cause some stammering on our part - even confusion as to what has taken place.” Anna goes on to say “I feel as if I have the word “PETER” written across my forehead, as my heart wants to blurt out words that will prove themselves to be a jumbled-up mess. It is then that a holy finger presses against our lips and we hear “Shhhh - this is my sonm, my chosen. Listen to him.” and the Divine Veil is lifted if only for a moment.
What is a thin place? To discern the difference between an ordinary place and a thin place, one must use a spiritual perspective. In simple terms a ‘thin place’ is a place where the veil between this world and the Other world is thin, the Other world is more near. This meaning assumes the perceiver senses the existence of a world beyond what we know through our five senses.
Truth abides in thin places; naked, raw, hard to face truth. Yet the comfort, safety and strength to face that truth also abides there. Thin places captivate our imagination, yet diminish our existence. We become very small, yet we gain connection and become part of something larger than we can perceive. The human spirit is awakened and will grow if the body and mind allow it. Simply put, a thin place is a place where one feels that mysterious power.
In his Spiritual Message to the World in 1931, Mahatma Gandhi said, “There is an indefinable, mysterious power that pervades everything. I feel it, though I do not see it. It is this unseen power that makes itself felt and yet defies all proof, because it is so unlike all that I perceive through my senses. It transcends the senses”
So Jesus and his three closest friends Peter, James and John up the highest mountain in the area. As they stop near the summit to catch their breath, Jesus’ face radiates light; his clothes became glistening white. Altitude sickness, all three of them? Could this have been what the Israelites had seen when Moses brought the Ten Commandments down from Sinai and his face shone so that he had to cover it?
The disciples had seen this glorious event in dumbstruck silence. Peter wanted to remain in the rarified atmosphere of this mountain-top experience and stop the clock. He had seen Paree; he didn't want to return to the farm. When he found his voice, he said to Jesus, "Master, it's a good thing that we are here; let us make three booths, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah. Let's stay right here, Jesus. We've seen how glorious life can be. Let's preserve this glorious moment and not worry about going back from this light."
Jesus, you will note, didn’t even begin to try to answer. He had no words himself, and probably Peter’s stammering sounded like gibberish to him. He had a transfiguring and transforming experience which showed him what life could be, a glimpse of the incredible majesty and power of God.
And then - KLUNK!
All four of them stumble down from the mountain, still hyper-ventilating from the mountain-top experience. I am quite sure that Jesus was just as dumbstruck as the other three. It’s one thing to have faith, to believe that there is a God and to be committed to a life of prayer and ministry. It’s quite another thing to come face to face with that radiant glory, and walk away in any state other than tongue-tied.
Now, I’m interjecting a comment here - about lectionaries. If I had followed the lectionary, only the first part of this text - the transfiguration part - would have been included. But the following piece is critical to the whole story, because it is real life.
Moses, having been to one of those thin places and encountering the radiant presence of God, then has to come back down and try to explain to the Israelites. How mundane, to have to return from communing with God to explaining to a “stubborn and stiff-necked people” what his perception of God’s intent was.
So, we find Jesus and the disciples still pinching themselves, the three walking along with their eyes bugging out, Jesus probably wanting just to hold on to some quiet and reflective time; they get to the bottom of the mountain again and find a crowd waiting, and a man with an epileptic son, asking Jesus to help. The man says he asked the other disciples to heal his son, but they could not. And Jesus says the most human thing which I think ever came out his mouth. He says something like “Gawd, how long do I have to put up with this? Bring the boy to me.” Can you hear the utter exasperation in his voice? After such an experience, isn’t this the last thing one would want to deal with?
Remember, he’s just been to the mountaintop, had a transcendent spiritual experience, he is still mentally and spiritually back there. How mundane it must have seemed. How small compared to the grandeur of the previous moment. I can see him asking himself “Is this all there is? Is this what it’s about?” Was this experience destined to become, like so many religious experiences, only a dimly-remembered high moment in a never-ending sea of need?
Some of us may have had such an experience: a time when the universe makes sense, a glimpse of something far beyond the mundane of many todays - a time when we had no doubts, and found ourselves a part of the universe and could see with surety the next world.
Rev. Thomas Hall asks “why did this event become a treasured memory of the Church? What's the point of it? This experience doesn’t ever happen at my church-except maybe with the help of pyrotechnics and strobe lights. How do we relate to it?
He answers his own question. “This became an indelible memory because it could never be repeated. Some Christians go to the Bible stories to attempt to replicate what they read. Unfortunately, in the process, the Scriptures are turned into rigid formulae that now dictate our experiences. That's one reason we have so many versions of the Christian faith--we're trying to reduce the stories into rules, truths, formulae, and doctrines. And when we think we've got the truth we become intolerant of others who have discovered a different way to understand the same truth. Even our gospel writers place different interpretations on the Transfiguration experience. Mark sees it as a mountain top experience, Matthew as a vision, Luke as a prayer meeting. So let's be honest this morning and let this memory stand on its own without trying to squeeze it into our personal experiences.”
So we let the experience of transfiguration stand as it is - one brief moment of clarity and revelation - a stepping into a thin place for a moment, where two worlds touch; we catch a glimpse of radiant and transcendent glory. Then we come back to earth, to the people around us who hurt and need healing, to the ordinary and everyday, things which look drab and mundane. The trick is to look at those ordinary, everyday things which appear drab by comparison, remove the veil from our own eyes, and see the glory there as well.
Sometimes on the rarest nights
comes the vision calm and clear,
gleaming with unearthly lights
on our path of doubt and fear.
Winds from that far land are blown,
whispering with secret breath--
hope that plays a tune alone,
love that conquers pain and death.
Sources:
1. Poem “Late Winter”, by Rev. Tim Haut, Deep River Pastoral Charge, 2002.
2. Anna Murdock, from "Shhhhh....Listen!" Luke 9:28-36 Ponderings for Transfiguration Sunday 2010
3. A description of thin places, www.thinplaces.net
4. Sermon “A Mountaintop Experience”, by Dr. David Rogne, retired pastor United Methodist Church USA
5. Sermon “Prayer Mountain” by Rev. Thomas Hall, Mayflower UCC, Billings, MT.
6. “Land of Might-Have-Been”, song by Jeremy Northam, from the movie Gosford Park 2001.
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