This is my favorite Advent sermon. It's a little long for a blog, but please indulge me.
John 1: 6- 8;19- 28
I know he shouldn’t have been, but my brother Roy was my favorite brother. It’s not like I had a lot to choose from, there was only one other, but I chose anyway. Roy is seventeen years older than I am and the other brother, Alfred is fifteen years older. That might have had something to do with it. Given their ages when I was first old enough to have a clue that I had brothers, Roy would have been a young adult, just graduated from high school and working. And Alfred would have been a self absorbed senior in high school. This is probably why they treated me differently, but whatever the reason, it was different enough that I was aware of it. And so, I had a favorite.
Roy had a job as a graphic artist and went to work every day in a clean white dress shirt. At dinner, he was still wearing it and I insisted that Bubba, which was what I called him when I was small, sit next to me at the table. I liked to reach out and touch him. Now think about that a minute. I’m two, feeding myself, and he’s got on a white dress shirt. But he didn’t care, because I was, in his words, his “little man.” In the family picture album, there are pictures of me with him, but never with Alfred. Beginning to get the idea? See why he was my favorite?
When I was barely a year old, Pearl Harbor happened, and by the time I was a little over two WWII was in full rip and Roy was in the Army, in Europe and in harm’s way. My Mom and Dad used a map of Europe to track troop movements they heard from the radio or read in the paper. It helped them feel connected to him in some way. When I was curious about this, they explained to me what a map was and I asked if Bubba had a map. They weren’t sure, but they thought he might. I thought he needed one, so I drew him one which they sent to him. I learned years later that he posted that map in the headquarters company he was assigned to so everybody could see it.
With his being gone, you might expect things would change in the seating around the dinner table. But I wouldn’t hear of it. Bubba had to have his chair—even if we had guests—and it had to be next to mine. It’s not that nobody else paid attention to me or loved me. I had plenty of that. I had a bunch of girl cousins who were my brothers’ ages and they loved to spend time with me. And, of course, I was especially precious to Mom and Dad, because a year or so after Roy left for the military, so did Alfred. I was it now, and with two brothers in danger, you could easily see how I might get lots of attention. No, it wasn’t that I wasn’t loved, it was that I missed this special man who loved spending time with me. I scribbled on paper and called them letters and Mom faithfully mailed them. And in his letters home, he always had something to say to me.
Then one day, we got a telegram. He was coming home! He didn’t know when exactly, but he was on his way. I woke up every morning wanting to know if Bubba was home yet. I went to bed every night asking if it would be tomorrow. The waiting was dreadful, but it was also full of excitement. Any moment, Bubba might be home! I’ve told you this story because I see a connection in it with the story in our Gospel. The people of Israel listening to John must have felt what I felt knowing Bubba was coming and coming any minute. Like me, they were filled with terrible excitement and hope. God, who had loved them, and yet who had felt so far away when they were in exile in Egypt and later in Babylon, was sending a long awaited one with power to restore things to the way they were. The Psalmist wrote about that dark time when God was so far away by saying, in part,
By the rivers of Babylon—
there we sat down and there we wept…
On the willows there we hung our harps…
How could we sing the Lord’s song…?
And now, not only were they back in Israel where they could sing the Lord’s song, but someone was coming to restore things to the way they were meant to be. They rushed to be baptized to prepare for this extraordinary moment which would shortly be upon them. They and I waited with heightened expectation for different things, but expectantly just the same.
One day, as we waited, Mom and I did what we did almost every week. We boarded a trolley and rode downtown to look around and get a bit of lunch at a lunch counter. After an afternoon of adventure, we climbed aboard another trolley and made our way back to the neighborhood, and after a short walk from the trolley stop, she let us into the empty and still house. And there on the bed in the front bedroom was Bubba, still in his Army overcoat, sound asleep.
It wasn’t at all how I imagined it to be. I thought there might be a parade or a band. Or maybe we’d go to the train station to meet him in the midst of the billowing steam and clank and clatter of steel on steel. All the family had to be there, too. I mean, this was a special time and I needed special things to be going on. But there he was, sound asleep, the house quiet and still. Israel, too must have expected something with a lot more flash and dazzle than what they got. Jesus had no army, no horsemen, no chariots. How could he deliver Israel from their oppressors? This couldn’t be what they had waited for with so much excitement; after all: a peasant showed up when they expected a warrior king. A peasant who begin his work by being baptized by the same John who was announcing him as the be all and end all. Something seemed very wrong with this picture.
But things are often not what they seem. Even though Bubba hadn’t arrived as I expected, when I saw him there on the bed, I was on top of him before he knew what hit him. And you know what he said as he hugged me close, “Hey, little man. I’ve missed you! I’m so glad to see you!” Better than any band or parade or chugging, smoking, clanging train! Better than I could have hoped or imagined. Bubba was home and he was thrilled to see me. It was an unforgettable and extraordinary moment!
And though something seemed wrong with the picture when Jesus arrived, it turned out that it was very right too. Unforgettable. Extraordinary. This story about my brother reminds me that Jesus still shows up just like my brother did—the realization of my expectation but not the way I would have planned. But there’s something else the story helps me with. Being in that expectant frame of mind, but open to all possibilities, is important, not just in Advent, but all the time. It may just be the case, that if you’re always expectant, Jesus may come more often than you can imagine and in ways that will thrill and delight you. It’s at least something to think about as we again prepare to celebrate his first coming.
Peace,
Jerry+
Friday, December 12, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
Advent 2
Advent is my favorite season, and not just because it ends in Christmas. It's because it's about new beginnings in a way no other season is for me, not even Lent. Here are some thoughts about it.
Isaiah proclaimed that God would send a messenger--a messenger who cries out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” John’s appearance and announcement centuries later is enough for Mark to be sure that messenger has arrived. These few verses from Mark are filled with expectation! And expectation is so much of what Advent is about.
As I think about Advents past, it seems to me most of us have the expectation part of Advent down pat. Our entire culture has really gotten on board with that part. The expectation of gifts, of a Christmas card from a friend, of a huge holiday meal and a round of parties; the expectation of beautiful trees covered with lights and angels, of family visits, and beautiful worship experiences, these are quintessential Advent expectations. That some of these are viewed with a sense of dread doesn’t overshadow the excitement of others of them for us.
But, John’s mission was not only to announce the coming Messiah, but to call people to prepare their hearts for his arrival. We keep Advent season as our time of preparation. But, have you wondered what does the preparation entail? In John’s theology, a necessary part of that preparation for our encounter with Christ is repentance.
What is the repentance John says is necessary preparation? Our problem with repentance is that it may be very misunderstood. Repentance doesn’t mean penitence as in “godly sorrow for sin.” Repentance is not remorse; it’s not admitting mistakes, nor is it self condemnation. Repentance is an act of will that produces a complete change of mind, a complete change of will, an altered purpose in life.
Once there was a learned and pious man who went to see a Zen teacher. He said to the teacher, “teach me what I need to know to have a meaningful life. I have studied sacred scripture. I have visited the greatest teachers. I have traveled the world looking. But, I haven’t found the answer to a meaningful life. Teach me, please.” The Zen teacher said nothing, but began serving tea. He began to pour tea into his visitor’s cup and kept pouring until it overflowed. Even then, he continued pouring until it ran all over the table and flowed off on the floor. Still he poured. The visitor couldn’t restrain himself and said, “Stop! It’s full. No more will go in!” The Zen teacher then said, “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations, full of yourself. How can I teach you anything unless you are empty?”
During our Advent work, if we look deeply, we may find like the learned and pious man, we’re already full. Full of the busyness of the season. Full of the distractions commanding so much of our attention. Full of ourselves. If so, maybe we need to repent in the sense that we need to want to do things in a new way and in the sense that we begin to do things a new way.
Each of us knows we are not, at least in some ways, the person or the Christian we might be. Perhaps the beginning of repentance is to ask, “What holds me down; what holds me back from being the person God longs for me to be?” Maybe it is our love affair with the material and transient. Maybe it is baggage from our past we’ve not unpacked. Maybe we are consumed with our selves in the most selfish sense. Maybe it is thinking we have no need for repentance. If repentance is a change of mind, we have to ask “what changes in my thoughts and attitudes are called for?” If repentance is a change of will, we have to ask, “how can I make God’s will my will?” If repentance is an altered purpose, we have to ask, “for what holy purpose, large or small, have I been called?”
Advent gives us the occasion to struggle with these questions. Honest self examination is never easy or fun. Most of us would just as soon skip it if we can. I know I would. But Advent calls us to a discipline of self examination. Whatever it is that we are full of that will keep Christ from pouring in calls out to be discovered and emptied.
Peace,
Jerry+
Isaiah proclaimed that God would send a messenger--a messenger who cries out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” John’s appearance and announcement centuries later is enough for Mark to be sure that messenger has arrived. These few verses from Mark are filled with expectation! And expectation is so much of what Advent is about.
As I think about Advents past, it seems to me most of us have the expectation part of Advent down pat. Our entire culture has really gotten on board with that part. The expectation of gifts, of a Christmas card from a friend, of a huge holiday meal and a round of parties; the expectation of beautiful trees covered with lights and angels, of family visits, and beautiful worship experiences, these are quintessential Advent expectations. That some of these are viewed with a sense of dread doesn’t overshadow the excitement of others of them for us.
But, John’s mission was not only to announce the coming Messiah, but to call people to prepare their hearts for his arrival. We keep Advent season as our time of preparation. But, have you wondered what does the preparation entail? In John’s theology, a necessary part of that preparation for our encounter with Christ is repentance.
What is the repentance John says is necessary preparation? Our problem with repentance is that it may be very misunderstood. Repentance doesn’t mean penitence as in “godly sorrow for sin.” Repentance is not remorse; it’s not admitting mistakes, nor is it self condemnation. Repentance is an act of will that produces a complete change of mind, a complete change of will, an altered purpose in life.
Once there was a learned and pious man who went to see a Zen teacher. He said to the teacher, “teach me what I need to know to have a meaningful life. I have studied sacred scripture. I have visited the greatest teachers. I have traveled the world looking. But, I haven’t found the answer to a meaningful life. Teach me, please.” The Zen teacher said nothing, but began serving tea. He began to pour tea into his visitor’s cup and kept pouring until it overflowed. Even then, he continued pouring until it ran all over the table and flowed off on the floor. Still he poured. The visitor couldn’t restrain himself and said, “Stop! It’s full. No more will go in!” The Zen teacher then said, “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations, full of yourself. How can I teach you anything unless you are empty?”
During our Advent work, if we look deeply, we may find like the learned and pious man, we’re already full. Full of the busyness of the season. Full of the distractions commanding so much of our attention. Full of ourselves. If so, maybe we need to repent in the sense that we need to want to do things in a new way and in the sense that we begin to do things a new way.
Each of us knows we are not, at least in some ways, the person or the Christian we might be. Perhaps the beginning of repentance is to ask, “What holds me down; what holds me back from being the person God longs for me to be?” Maybe it is our love affair with the material and transient. Maybe it is baggage from our past we’ve not unpacked. Maybe we are consumed with our selves in the most selfish sense. Maybe it is thinking we have no need for repentance. If repentance is a change of mind, we have to ask “what changes in my thoughts and attitudes are called for?” If repentance is a change of will, we have to ask, “how can I make God’s will my will?” If repentance is an altered purpose, we have to ask, “for what holy purpose, large or small, have I been called?”
Advent gives us the occasion to struggle with these questions. Honest self examination is never easy or fun. Most of us would just as soon skip it if we can. I know I would. But Advent calls us to a discipline of self examination. Whatever it is that we are full of that will keep Christ from pouring in calls out to be discovered and emptied.
Peace,
Jerry+
Friday, November 28, 2008
First Sunday in Advent
Today's post is a sermon I preached for clergy colleagues of mine. Perhaps it speaks to all of us as well.
Today’s Gospel reading is, in a very real sense, a wake up call. “But in those days, after suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.” Or put another way, “Wake up! There is going to be a catastrophic advent one day.”
Ever since Jesus ascended, people have been talking about the days they live in as “the last days.” And I don’t know how many times, even in modern history, some charismatic leader has convinced great crowds of people that he had it all figured out, right down to the year and the day. Many have been convinced to give away all they had and gather on a mountain top to wait for the trumpets to sound.
It’s not so hard to understand focusing on Christ’s return when you think about it. After all, in this same reading, Jesus says ominously, “Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.” Early Christians lived with the clear expectation that, literally, at any moment, Christ would return and the redeemed would be caught up into heaven in what has been called the Rapture. It must have been very confusing to them as years passed, then generations, and still Christ hadn’t returned.
In today’s Gospel, the wake up call is clear in Jesus’ words. He says, “watch—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”
I read something in preparation for this sermon that struck me and bears directly on what it means for us to “keep awake”. It said, of all the –isms of the world, the worst may be som-nam-bul-ism: sleepwalking-- failure to be awake and paying attention when we should be. If our sleepwalking is spiritual in nature, maybe this is the Advent message: keep awake.
We may sleepwalk through our days and suddenly wake up to notice that evil in the world has the upper hand. It’s hard to hear about another murder/robbery or another act of terrorism, without thinking the world has become truly a bad place. Keep awake, says Jesus.
Sleepwalking can result in slowly allowing our purpose in life to shrink to the mundane without even noticing. Once we may have believed we were called to something noble or that we could make a difference. But over time we may lose our passion, our sense of mission. I know in my own case, the idealism of my twenties has suffered from my nodding off. Like my head slumping over onto my chest and startling me awake, there’s been more than once when I realized my idealism had gone to sleep. Keep awake, says Jesus.
Sleepwalking mists over our eyes, so we never notice that our principles are being eroded. Without even meaning to, we put away our moral compass and do things we know are wrong. One small thing here, one there, one tiny one now, one then. We make these accommodations so slowly, we hardly notice when these exceptional behaviors become our normal behavior. Keep awake, says Jesus.
Sleepwalking can come upon us so slowly, we are never aware we’ve changed. It’s like a frog in hot water. It’s said, if you dump a frog in a pan of hot water, it will immediately jump out. But if you put that same frog in a pan of water and slowly increase the heat, it will stay there until it’s boiled alive. (Not that I ever tried that, but I’ve heard it’s true.)
Human life is fragile. The end of live always seem to occur before we’re ready. We’ve all heard stories about a husband and wife or parent and child who quarreled just before one was tragically killed in an accident. If we were awake, we would always take the time to make up, to say, “I love you.” Or thinking we have plenty of time to phone or write or visit a friend, we learn the friend died of a massive heart attack. If only we were awake to the transience of life we would make time to be compassionate, supportive and involved.
When I was in a college fraternity, at the end of a meeting, after all the usual business was conducted, there was always a time called “For the Good of the Order.” This agenda item was there to allow us to share those things which needed or might need our collective attention so the fraternal atmosphere could be maintained or enhanced. It was a time when significant soul searching went on as we focused our attention on the state of our corporate relational and spiritual health.
I think that’s a kind of watchfulness Jesus might be calling us all to—watching for the good of our soul. Religious orders have practiced a time of examining one’s conscience, of examining one’s actions during the day just past. The purpose was to look at how your life lived that day reflected or neglected the principles on which the Christian life is to be built. The idea behind this time of examination was simple: being a faithful Christian doesn’t just happen like mushrooms or dandelions popping up on the lawn. It requires care, attention and cultivation just as a beautiful garden does. It requires that we stay awake, that we watch, that we live examined lives so we can be constantly renewed for the day ahead.
“Keep awake,” Jesus says. Advent is a good time for checking to see if we’ve slipped into slumber. But, it is even a better time for awakening to the Lord’s constant desire to be present with us. “Keep awake” is our call to experience him today, in this moment, and for all time.
Peace,
Jerry+
Today’s Gospel reading is, in a very real sense, a wake up call. “But in those days, after suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.” Or put another way, “Wake up! There is going to be a catastrophic advent one day.”
Ever since Jesus ascended, people have been talking about the days they live in as “the last days.” And I don’t know how many times, even in modern history, some charismatic leader has convinced great crowds of people that he had it all figured out, right down to the year and the day. Many have been convinced to give away all they had and gather on a mountain top to wait for the trumpets to sound.
It’s not so hard to understand focusing on Christ’s return when you think about it. After all, in this same reading, Jesus says ominously, “Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.” Early Christians lived with the clear expectation that, literally, at any moment, Christ would return and the redeemed would be caught up into heaven in what has been called the Rapture. It must have been very confusing to them as years passed, then generations, and still Christ hadn’t returned.
In today’s Gospel, the wake up call is clear in Jesus’ words. He says, “watch—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”
I read something in preparation for this sermon that struck me and bears directly on what it means for us to “keep awake”. It said, of all the –isms of the world, the worst may be som-nam-bul-ism: sleepwalking-- failure to be awake and paying attention when we should be. If our sleepwalking is spiritual in nature, maybe this is the Advent message: keep awake.
We may sleepwalk through our days and suddenly wake up to notice that evil in the world has the upper hand. It’s hard to hear about another murder/robbery or another act of terrorism, without thinking the world has become truly a bad place. Keep awake, says Jesus.
Sleepwalking can result in slowly allowing our purpose in life to shrink to the mundane without even noticing. Once we may have believed we were called to something noble or that we could make a difference. But over time we may lose our passion, our sense of mission. I know in my own case, the idealism of my twenties has suffered from my nodding off. Like my head slumping over onto my chest and startling me awake, there’s been more than once when I realized my idealism had gone to sleep. Keep awake, says Jesus.
Sleepwalking mists over our eyes, so we never notice that our principles are being eroded. Without even meaning to, we put away our moral compass and do things we know are wrong. One small thing here, one there, one tiny one now, one then. We make these accommodations so slowly, we hardly notice when these exceptional behaviors become our normal behavior. Keep awake, says Jesus.
Sleepwalking can come upon us so slowly, we are never aware we’ve changed. It’s like a frog in hot water. It’s said, if you dump a frog in a pan of hot water, it will immediately jump out. But if you put that same frog in a pan of water and slowly increase the heat, it will stay there until it’s boiled alive. (Not that I ever tried that, but I’ve heard it’s true.)
Human life is fragile. The end of live always seem to occur before we’re ready. We’ve all heard stories about a husband and wife or parent and child who quarreled just before one was tragically killed in an accident. If we were awake, we would always take the time to make up, to say, “I love you.” Or thinking we have plenty of time to phone or write or visit a friend, we learn the friend died of a massive heart attack. If only we were awake to the transience of life we would make time to be compassionate, supportive and involved.
When I was in a college fraternity, at the end of a meeting, after all the usual business was conducted, there was always a time called “For the Good of the Order.” This agenda item was there to allow us to share those things which needed or might need our collective attention so the fraternal atmosphere could be maintained or enhanced. It was a time when significant soul searching went on as we focused our attention on the state of our corporate relational and spiritual health.
I think that’s a kind of watchfulness Jesus might be calling us all to—watching for the good of our soul. Religious orders have practiced a time of examining one’s conscience, of examining one’s actions during the day just past. The purpose was to look at how your life lived that day reflected or neglected the principles on which the Christian life is to be built. The idea behind this time of examination was simple: being a faithful Christian doesn’t just happen like mushrooms or dandelions popping up on the lawn. It requires care, attention and cultivation just as a beautiful garden does. It requires that we stay awake, that we watch, that we live examined lives so we can be constantly renewed for the day ahead.
“Keep awake,” Jesus says. Advent is a good time for checking to see if we’ve slipped into slumber. But, it is even a better time for awakening to the Lord’s constant desire to be present with us. “Keep awake” is our call to experience him today, in this moment, and for all time.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Hate Reigns
Back in the mid-70s, I was a campus minister at the University of Tennessee Martin. Through the miracle of technology, a group of the students who were there the same time I was, have stayed in touch with each other and included me on their Yahoo group. There I learned that recently a student art exhibit had created a great deal of furor on campus and beyond. And now, this morning, I read about it in the local newspaper.
It seems that the student created art work from torn pages of the Bible and from torn bits of the Constitution and flag. I can well image the motivation of a college student to do such a thing. And I’m not expressing my opinion about the work. But this morning, the Yahoo users group email included one from the wife, Jenn, of the chair of the Visual Arts Department where the work was done. Jenn was very involved in the ministry when I was there—she was even the choir director the last couple of years.
Jenn reported that her husband had received hate mail and even threats of harm from people who don’t care for the student’s display. Needless to say, Jenn is afraid for her husband—and probably herself as well.
But there was another email from a member of the group, Jerry. Jerry was, back in the day, very outspoken about many issues and had a column in the campus newspaper in which he could express his views. Here’s a little of what he said in his note:
[There were] letters to the editor, suggesting that I should leave town, or that I would burn in hell for what I wrote, or how un-American I was. I remember there were phone calls and letters to the moderator and the Dean of Students, I think even [the Chancellor] got a couple asking that I be removed from the staff. The funny part was most people didn't have a clue what I looked like. I was just a name to them and a symbol, nothing more. Something they didn't understand and were afraid of. One of the reasons I started hanging out at the [the Interfaith Center] was that even after folks there found out my last name, they took me for what I was and respected my right to express myself and choose my own road to the Infinite even though we had many hours of debate, discussion and listening along the way.
I couldn’t be prouder to have been a part of such a place and to minister with such a group of students who would love Jerry even as they disagreed with him. But the letters from Jenn and Jerry also brought a wave of sadness over me. I was reminded of too many times that Christians couldn’t love and disagree, but felt they must hate, harm, even kill if they disagreed. Not just throughout history, but it seems even in this time of ours. Tolerance and forgiveness are not commodities in great supply among Christians, it seems.
Do your part today and tomorrow and into the future to reverse this terrible trend. Love as Jesus loved—even his enemies and even those who put him to death.
Peace,
Jerry+
It seems that the student created art work from torn pages of the Bible and from torn bits of the Constitution and flag. I can well image the motivation of a college student to do such a thing. And I’m not expressing my opinion about the work. But this morning, the Yahoo users group email included one from the wife, Jenn, of the chair of the Visual Arts Department where the work was done. Jenn was very involved in the ministry when I was there—she was even the choir director the last couple of years.
Jenn reported that her husband had received hate mail and even threats of harm from people who don’t care for the student’s display. Needless to say, Jenn is afraid for her husband—and probably herself as well.
But there was another email from a member of the group, Jerry. Jerry was, back in the day, very outspoken about many issues and had a column in the campus newspaper in which he could express his views. Here’s a little of what he said in his note:
[There were] letters to the editor, suggesting that I should leave town, or that I would burn in hell for what I wrote, or how un-American I was. I remember there were phone calls and letters to the moderator and the Dean of Students, I think even [the Chancellor] got a couple asking that I be removed from the staff. The funny part was most people didn't have a clue what I looked like. I was just a name to them and a symbol, nothing more. Something they didn't understand and were afraid of. One of the reasons I started hanging out at the [the Interfaith Center] was that even after folks there found out my last name, they took me for what I was and respected my right to express myself and choose my own road to the Infinite even though we had many hours of debate, discussion and listening along the way.
I couldn’t be prouder to have been a part of such a place and to minister with such a group of students who would love Jerry even as they disagreed with him. But the letters from Jenn and Jerry also brought a wave of sadness over me. I was reminded of too many times that Christians couldn’t love and disagree, but felt they must hate, harm, even kill if they disagreed. Not just throughout history, but it seems even in this time of ours. Tolerance and forgiveness are not commodities in great supply among Christians, it seems.
Do your part today and tomorrow and into the future to reverse this terrible trend. Love as Jesus loved—even his enemies and even those who put him to death.
Peace,
Jerry+
Friday, November 14, 2008
Restored Souls
A friend recently gave my wife a little book written by Max Lucado, titled Safe in the Shepherd’s Arms. It is a series of short reflections on the 23rd Psalm. In it Max writes,
…Life is a jungle. Not a jungle of trees and beasts. Would that it were that simple. Would that our jungles could be cut with a machete or our adversaries trapped in a cage. But our jungles are comprised of the thicker thickets of failing health, broken hearts, and empty wallets. Our forests are framed with hospital walls and divorce courts. We don’t hear the screeching of birds of the roaring of lions, but we do hear the complaints of neighbors and the demands of bosses. Our predators are our creditors, and the brush that surrounds us is the rush that exhausts us. It’s a jungle out there. And for some, even for many, hope is in short supply.
Yep. I think he nailed it. And jungles such as these can be overwhelmingly fearful places to be—places where hope can be in short supply. But, as Max points out, God can restore hope in the same way God can restore souls. He goes on to write,
Whether you are a lamb lost on a craggy ledge or a city slicker alone in a deep jungle, everything changes when [the Shepherd] appears. Your loneliness diminishes…your despair decrease because you have vision. Your confusion begins to life because you have direction. Please note: You haven’t left the jungle. The trees still eclipse the sky, and the thorns still cut the skin. Animals lurk and rodents scurry. The jungle is still a jungle. It hasn’t changed, but you have. You have hope.
The Shepherd can appear in many guises. A friend who slips you a little book to bolster your spirit. Another who drops you a card with a warm and loving note. Still another who sends a card that makes you erupt in laughter when laughter seems such a forgotten experience. A hug. A whispered, “It’s going to be OK. Don’t know what it’s going to look like, but it’s going to be OK.” The phone call that concludes with, “I’m praying for you.” These are the urban jungle’s machetes that hack away the strangling vines and help point the way toward a sense of hope.
It’s a jungle out there. But, it’s not one you in which you are alone and lost.
Peace,
Jerry+
…Life is a jungle. Not a jungle of trees and beasts. Would that it were that simple. Would that our jungles could be cut with a machete or our adversaries trapped in a cage. But our jungles are comprised of the thicker thickets of failing health, broken hearts, and empty wallets. Our forests are framed with hospital walls and divorce courts. We don’t hear the screeching of birds of the roaring of lions, but we do hear the complaints of neighbors and the demands of bosses. Our predators are our creditors, and the brush that surrounds us is the rush that exhausts us. It’s a jungle out there. And for some, even for many, hope is in short supply.
Yep. I think he nailed it. And jungles such as these can be overwhelmingly fearful places to be—places where hope can be in short supply. But, as Max points out, God can restore hope in the same way God can restore souls. He goes on to write,
Whether you are a lamb lost on a craggy ledge or a city slicker alone in a deep jungle, everything changes when [the Shepherd] appears. Your loneliness diminishes…your despair decrease because you have vision. Your confusion begins to life because you have direction. Please note: You haven’t left the jungle. The trees still eclipse the sky, and the thorns still cut the skin. Animals lurk and rodents scurry. The jungle is still a jungle. It hasn’t changed, but you have. You have hope.
The Shepherd can appear in many guises. A friend who slips you a little book to bolster your spirit. Another who drops you a card with a warm and loving note. Still another who sends a card that makes you erupt in laughter when laughter seems such a forgotten experience. A hug. A whispered, “It’s going to be OK. Don’t know what it’s going to look like, but it’s going to be OK.” The phone call that concludes with, “I’m praying for you.” These are the urban jungle’s machetes that hack away the strangling vines and help point the way toward a sense of hope.
It’s a jungle out there. But, it’s not one you in which you are alone and lost.
Peace,
Jerry+
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Feast Day
Today is my birthday, but it is also the feast day of William Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury, who died in 1944.
Temple's admirers have called him "a philosopher, theologian, social teacher, educational reformer, and the leader of the ecumenical movement of his generation," "the most significant Anglican churchman of the twentieth century," "the most renowned Primate in the Church of England since the English Reformation," "Anglican's most creative and comprehensive contribution to the theological enterprise of the West.”
Pretty impressive company.
One of his most important accomplishments was his vigorous involvement in movements for Christian co-operation and unity, in missions, in the British Council of Churches, in the World Council of Churches, in the Church of South India (a merger of Anglican, Congregationalist, Methodist, and Presbyterian churches into a single church, with provisions for safeguarding what each group thought essential).
Temple was initially refused ordination by his bishop because of his less than orthodox views on the Virgin Mary and Jesus’ resurrection. But the then Archbishop of Canterbury thought he saw something important in Temple and ordained him anyway. I guess he was right. Oh, incidentally, Temple eventually came around to the orthodox view, but clearly his greatest contributions had little or nothing to do with his orthodoxy. Hmmm. Could this be something the Church needs to pay more attention to?
Peace,
Jerry+
Temple's admirers have called him "a philosopher, theologian, social teacher, educational reformer, and the leader of the ecumenical movement of his generation," "the most significant Anglican churchman of the twentieth century," "the most renowned Primate in the Church of England since the English Reformation," "Anglican's most creative and comprehensive contribution to the theological enterprise of the West.”
Pretty impressive company.
One of his most important accomplishments was his vigorous involvement in movements for Christian co-operation and unity, in missions, in the British Council of Churches, in the World Council of Churches, in the Church of South India (a merger of Anglican, Congregationalist, Methodist, and Presbyterian churches into a single church, with provisions for safeguarding what each group thought essential).
Temple was initially refused ordination by his bishop because of his less than orthodox views on the Virgin Mary and Jesus’ resurrection. But the then Archbishop of Canterbury thought he saw something important in Temple and ordained him anyway. I guess he was right. Oh, incidentally, Temple eventually came around to the orthodox view, but clearly his greatest contributions had little or nothing to do with his orthodoxy. Hmmm. Could this be something the Church needs to pay more attention to?
Peace,
Jerry+
Saturday, November 1, 2008
All Saints
Today is All Saints’ Day in much of Christendom. Most churches that observe it will do so tomorrow since we tend not to do weekday feast days.
Venerating those who have died for the faith began very early in Christianity, almost as soon as the Jesus Movement started. During the Roman persecutions of the late first and throughout the second century, many chose death rather than renounce their faith. Pretty quickly, the places of their birth or their martyrdom began to be venerated along with them and then churches began to be built on or near those spots. After the Peace of the Church in 313, martyrdom virtually disappeared, but the definition of saints changed a bit and the identification of saints continued .
The Gospel for All Saints is the Matthew list of the Beatitudes. And not accidentally. The Sermon on the Mount, of which they are a part, has been called the summary of Jesus’ teaching and the Beatitudes the summary of the summary. They are not prescriptive, however. That is, they are not the new law which all must obey. They are descriptive. They represent the reality for those who live according to these precepts. Not that it would hurt us to consider them prescriptive! But we wouldn’t be any better at living them than in living the Golden Rule, so maybe it’s just as well we don’t set them out as the desired ideal.
One more thing. During the persecutions, very many more people caved in than stood firm. One of the first controversies of the Imperial Church was how to treat the lapsed—and this was not the first time the issue had arisen. The context this time was “if a clergyman lapsed and then returned to the faith, were the sacramental acts, such as baptism, that he had performed or would perform, valid?” The bottom line, which by no means pleased everybody was, “yes.” The grace resides in God not the “actor.” Damn good thing don’t you think.
Peace
Jerry+
Venerating those who have died for the faith began very early in Christianity, almost as soon as the Jesus Movement started. During the Roman persecutions of the late first and throughout the second century, many chose death rather than renounce their faith. Pretty quickly, the places of their birth or their martyrdom began to be venerated along with them and then churches began to be built on or near those spots. After the Peace of the Church in 313, martyrdom virtually disappeared, but the definition of saints changed a bit and the identification of saints continued .
The Gospel for All Saints is the Matthew list of the Beatitudes. And not accidentally. The Sermon on the Mount, of which they are a part, has been called the summary of Jesus’ teaching and the Beatitudes the summary of the summary. They are not prescriptive, however. That is, they are not the new law which all must obey. They are descriptive. They represent the reality for those who live according to these precepts. Not that it would hurt us to consider them prescriptive! But we wouldn’t be any better at living them than in living the Golden Rule, so maybe it’s just as well we don’t set them out as the desired ideal.
One more thing. During the persecutions, very many more people caved in than stood firm. One of the first controversies of the Imperial Church was how to treat the lapsed—and this was not the first time the issue had arisen. The context this time was “if a clergyman lapsed and then returned to the faith, were the sacramental acts, such as baptism, that he had performed or would perform, valid?” The bottom line, which by no means pleased everybody was, “yes.” The grace resides in God not the “actor.” Damn good thing don’t you think.
Peace
Jerry+
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