Water Daily: September 2021

10-1-21 - Child's Eye View

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

There are exercises for training care-givers, to help them better understand the experience of given populations. People working with the sight-impaired don light-proof blindfolds and try to get around; people who serve the infirm are told to navigate spaces with canes or wheelchairs.

I don’t know if any such exercises exist to better understand the world as a child experiences it, but I wonder what we’d have to do to recover that way of seeing. Certainly we’d have to get several feet closer to the floor, and maybe be told to regard every object as a potential plaything, and be encouraged to ask every question that comes to mind.

As Jesus tells it, we need to be able to get back into our “child mind” if we want to be serious about our faith journey: “Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”

This comment may well have shocked the serious adults to whom he addressed it. His own disciples had been busy shooing away the children who were crowding around Jesus, and he told them to let the children come. But to go further and say we need to emulate them if we want to enter the kingdom of God? That’s a radical notion.

That means we need to embrace dependency instead of going it alone. It means we are able to believe in things that we cannot see – and even see them, as our faith vision develops. It means we come to expect joy and playfulness, and strengthen our capacity for wonder. It means we ask our questions when we’re curious, and cry when we're sad, and act silly when something tickles us, and sit down for stories that capture our fancy. And we share these good things with each other.

How much of that applies to your experience of church and Christian community? How might we adapt our circumstances to foster this way of being?

I’ve been talking about how we might perceive the Kingdom as children do. But Jesus didn’t say “perceive,” he said “receive.” We must become receptors if we are to truly accept God’s gifts, even God’s calls to action. When working and giving outweigh receiving, we find ourselves stuck outside the threshold of God-Life, yearning to get in.

That’s kind of where those children were who wanted to get close to Jesus. And here’s what he did: And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
If we come to Him like that, he will offer us no less.

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9-30-21 - Owners

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

The handlers were getting edgy. The candidate was on a tight schedule, with influential people to meet, speeches to give, a movement to advance. There was no time for kissing babies and picking up kids. Security risk, germ risk, not to mention the danger of being upstaged… “Keep the kids away!” they muttered into their walkie-talkies. But the candidate had other ideas:

People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.

This is how Jesus’ disciples might be depicted if we updated this story to today. (In fact, something like this has happened with Pope Francis... here is a similar moment, and another here). It does make for great copy – the high and exalted stooping to the lowly and insignificant.

But Jesus was up to something bigger than a great photo op. He didn’t only say to let the children come – he said that they, in fact, have the highest status of all: to them belongs the Kingdom of God. That makes them owners, these little ones who by law could own nothing, earn nothing, achieve nothing, who were completely dependent upon others. These are the owners of the Kingdom.

What does that say about other insignificant kinds of people? Is Jesus saying the Kingdom also belongs to the destitute, the diseased, the depressed, the disowned - and us, on our worst days? Or is there something peculiar to children that elevates them to this status? Is it in fact their very dependence that makes them so important?

Is Jesus inviting us to lay down all our products and projects so that our hands are open to receive the whole thing, the fullness of God-Life? Is that why he wants us to relinquish all the things we think we own, which keep us from being fully open to owning the whole Realm of God? Jesus told a little parable about that, and counseled a wealthy man…

It is one of Jesus’ most difficult challenges to us, this call to lay down something in order to receive everything. We spend our lives living into that work, so that when we come face to face with Love in its purest form, our hands are open and empty, ready to receive it.

Our children already know this; if we could only keep them from unlearning it as they grow up, they might lead us into the joy and unanxious wonder of God-Life.

9-29-21 - Law/Grace

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Want to see people get legalistic in a hurry? Bring up a “life-style” issue. It even happened around Jesus. In his remarks on marriage, divorce and adultery, he seems to emphasize the Law more strenuously than with many of his teachings. He says that Torah, the Law of Moses, provided for men to divorce their wives, but implies that this “out” was given only because of they were so incapable of love. Talking to his disciples in private, offers no such wiggle room. To which we might reply, “Yeah, well, he wasn’t married, was he?”

Nope, we don’t get to play that card. Jesus knew the human condition well enough, and no doubt had enough married friends to understand how challenging it is for two people to put their lives together for a lifetime. Yet he offers little grace in his teaching on divorce, he who was so forgiving of people who squandered their gifts in loose living, and even those who hoarded wealth and cheated others.

This is one reason it’s never a good idea to “proof text,” to find one passage of scripture to back up a position. Chances are another passage will contradict it or provide a broader context in which multiple interpretations can thrive. I think there’s a reason Jesus said these things to his disciples in private rather than to the general public – perhaps he was holding up for those who were leaders in his movement an ideal standard which he knew people less committed to God-Life might not manage.

That’s a big, wild guess, of course, if a comforting notion. I don’t know why Jesus said these things, and why he didn’t say them publicly. What I do know is that the Law is God-given – and can crush the life out of us if misused. The Law (at least in abstract) is God’s pure gift, given to impure human vessels who cannot live it fully. This puts us in rather a bind, as Paul wrote about so movingly in Romans 7 (read chapters 4-8...)

Realizing we cannot meet the demands of God's Law can inspire different responses:

We can give up, and toss it out altogether, living by our own instincts and reason.
We can bear down harder, trying to legislate and control what the heart doesn’t seem capable of doing willingly.
We can carry its standards in tension with the forgiveness of the loving and merciful God we’ve been taught to worship, and invite the transforming power of the Holy Spirit to help us live into it.

Gee, which one do you think I favor?

Lawlessness leads to highly subjective ethics, and often to licentiousness and heartache.
Legalism distorts God’s gift and focuses us on penalties, and then we lose sight of the Spirit and often find ourselves trying to control other people’s behavior more than our own.
Living in the light of God’s amazing grace leads us to freedom, fostering an environment of love and forgiveness in which people can find themselves, find God, and move toward wholeness. It is only in relationship with God that we are enabled to live the Law as God intended.

If the Law of the Lord is to revive the soul, as the Psalmist wrote, it must be leavened with Grace, described here by a modern-day writer of psalms. Where will you pitch your tent?

9-28-21 - Putting the Holy In Matrimony

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

When Jesus is asked whether or not divorce is permissible for the faithful, he goes to the Scriptures, quoting Genesis: “But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female. For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two but one flesh."

Sounds simple enough. It’s the ideal of what marriage is. Much more than a change of life status and condition, marriage in the Judeo-Christian view is the creation of a new person, if you will, an entity crafted from the union of the two partners entering into this covenant. It’s a beautiful ideal, and maddeningly difficult to live into, especially in a culture that understands marriage as the consummation of romantic love. And to the question of whether only two people with different genders can become “one flesh,” the bible is silent, as it is on abortion, medical ethics, labor laws, and so many other issues that vex us today.

What Jesus is not silent on is the sanctity of the union once made. He answers the Pharisees in a fairly general way – “…Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.” But Mark tells us that in private he has a different answer for his disciples: Then in the house the disciples asked him again about this matter. He said to them, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”

Harsh words. I wonder why Jesus didn’t define it so starkly in public – did he know it might drive people away, as it once did a parishioner of mine when this passage was read in church? And why does this statement allow no room for situations like abuse, infidelity or neglect that might warrant dissolving a marriage? And what do we make of our times, in which so many marriages suffer estrangement, unfaithfulness and often break down completely?

In the Episcopal wedding liturgy, the congregation is asked, after the two parties have declared their intent, whether they will do all in their power to support these two persons in their life in Christ. This is where we have a chance to enhance the “holy” in matrimony. Whether or not we are present when a couple made their vows, we can pray for them, talk with them, tangibly support their ongoing emotional and spiritual connection. And we can counter the cultural messages about marriage with the Christian narrative – that God has made a new creation out of two distinct persons in order that they reveal Love in the world. That new creation is fragile and vulnerable – it needs nurturing and protecting.

It is not up to each couple to save their marriage – it is up to their community to support and to love them, even when they fail to stay together. If we want to see marriage upheld as holy, let’s pray and support the couples we know, for the holy comes from God, through God's people.

9-27-21 - Culture Wars

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

We land smack dab in the middle of it this week: marriage and children. Jesus weighs in, not on marriage equality, which was not an issue in his day, but on divorce, a topic on which many “family values” warriors are silent, perhaps because divorce is so prevalent in our times, even among Christian evangelicals.

Why is he commenting on this topic at all? Some Pharisees came, and to test him they asked, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” He answered them, “What did Moses command you?” They said, “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her.” But Jesus said to them, “Because of your hardness of heart he wrote this commandment for you.”

Jesus did not bring this subject up on his own. His focus was always on how we might better understand God’s love and activity in our world, and how we are to treat the poor, the infirm, the elderly, the young, the alien, and those with whom we have conflict. Jesus seems little interested in laying down the law on marriage or any of the topics that claim so much time and energy in American Christianity.

But here come the Pharisees, trying to bait him again, this time on whether or not divorce is permissible. Jesus is, as always, cagey in his response. Rather than answer the question he points them back to the Law of Moses, “What did Moses command you?” They answer that the Law allows a man to divorce his wife. And Jesus replies that this “out” is provided to allow for “hardness of heart,” not because it is godly. (More tomorrow on what else he says …)

My question is: what does this have to do with the Good News? What does this have to do with “the kingdom of God has come among you,” “The Word became flesh and dwelt among you full of grace and truth?” It was then, and is now, a distraction from the fullness of Jesus’ message. Yes, how we live, and the honor with which we do and do not regard the people in our lives is definitely connected to that Good News of wholeness restored. Yet human behavior is not where we are to focus. When we do, we stop looking at Jesus and proclaiming him as Lord.

I try hard not to get too drawn into “culture war” debates. They so massively distort what the Christian enterprise is and is meant to be. They obscure the power of love and healing with which the Church has been entrusted, and trumpet legalism instead of love, law to the detriment of grace. All of revelation is important, but when the debate about these matters drowns out the Great Commandment to love God with heart, soul and mind – and your neighbor as yourself – we have a problem. As we agreed at bible study last week, morality without love is self-righteousness.

One of the religious organizations I follow has as its tagline: “Love your neighbor. No exceptions.” When somebody asks what you think about marriage, sexuality, or any other social issue of the day, you might just “pull a Jesus” and ask in return: How can we best love our neighbor on this question? I guarantee it’ll change the quality of the conversation and invite Jesus smack dab into the middle of it.

9-24-21 - Pass the Salt

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

What on earth did Jesus meant by this? “For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it?”

Since he’s just talked about the fires of hell as a consequence of sin, that may have something to do with it. Is he saying that each of us tastes sin’s consequences, both the immediate personal outcomes, and the separation from God that results? Yes, Jesus has freed us from the most dire and eternal consequences, but we may still feel the heat of those fires from time to time. Is that what it means to be salted with fire?

And what does that have to do with the qualities of salt? How do we maintain the saltiness of salt? (And how do we read this metaphor in an age and culture all too aware of the dangers of too much salt…)

It is all too inscrutable to me. But that last sentence strikes me as something we can connect with: “Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”

More than once Jesus commends “saltiness” in his followers and warns of the worthlessness of salt that has lost its flavor. Might we link "salt" with the power of the Holy Spirit at work in followers of Christ? Trying to live as a Christian without the active participation of the Spirit can make us dull and flavor-less, adding little to the world around us beyond vague talk of love and ordered worship in pretty buildings. Is Jesus condemning the Spirit-less religiosity he so often saw in the religious leaders of his time?

What does it mean to have salt in ourselves? It means, in part, that we feel the flow of God-Life in us; we know we’re part of an enterprise bigger than ourselves. It means we confront discouragement with prayer, and defeat with hope, sorrow with a joy borne not of circumstances, but of faith.

When do you feel the most “salty,” alive, full of flavor as a Christian? Is it in works of service or giving? In worship or prayer? When you’re reading the bible? Organizing ministries for others to live into? Talking about God’s involvement in your life? Pay attention to where you most come alive – chances are that’s where you have salt within yourself.

When we have salt within ourselves, it’s not so hard to be at peace with one another.

9-23-21 - The Great Surgeon

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

It is somewhat ironic to hear the man who healed the lame, the maimed and the blind suggest people put themselves in such states, but here it is, one of the toughest of all of Jesus’ tough teachings:

“If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.”

It is a challenge to find the Good News in this “Grand Guignol” of Jesus sayings. Let's take it as a violent wake-up call to be clear about our priorities, to be realistic about the consequences of sin – and to put God-Life first, no matter what. There is not much mercy or grace in this statement, yet in its stark clarity it offers a kind of tough love we might recognize in other spheres.

Think, for instance, what we might say to an addict one bender away from losing her family - or her life. In such light, this language doesn’t look so harsh. Or an oncologist telling a patient that his only hope is to cut out a tumor, even at the risk of compromising healthy tissue. We wouldn’t think twice. Often we fail to connect sin with such dire consequences in our lives – surely we have time to shape up, ask forgiveness; we can straighten up tomorrow. One more day of gossip or petty lies or gluttony won’t make that great a difference, right?

If we’re willing to take sin seriously without obsessing about it, there are many more gentle measures we can take before it becomes a cancer or a will-weakening addiction in our lives. We can adopt a practice of regular confession, not so we wallow in our sins, but to shine the light of truth upon ourselves and recognize the often unseen effects of sinful tendencies in us. We can practice forgiving others regularly, so that we don’t let resentment and judgment build up. We can cultivate compassion, which allows us to look past the damage we do or endure, and pray for the wounded person behind the actions.

Are there patterns, habits, even people in your life whom you would do well to cut off, cut out, so that you can live in greater freedom and purpose? Are there parts of yourself that need to be cut away? I was once way too dependent on someone, and in praying about it I got an image of this big, bloody, tuberous tumor in a chest cavity, attached by numerous blood vessels, which I had to let Jesus remove and heal. Yuck – and Alleluia.

We can entrust ourselves to the Great Physician, the Surgeon who knows how to cut cleanly, the Healer who knows how to apply balm to our wounds and restore us to wholeness.

9-22-21 - Stumbling Blocks

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Sunday’s gospel passage is really several different teachings put together – or it reads that way. How otherwise to account for the abrupt change in mood from Jesus’ conversation with his disciples about how to respond to people outside the faith community, to his stern warning against blocking children – and maybe also the poor and powerless – from believing in him:

“If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea.”

By “these little ones” he didn’t necessarily mean children. He may well have been referring to simple folk, plain, uneducated, unimportant in the eyes of society’s leaders. And who would dream of putting “stumbling blocks” in the way of such people? Not, we hope, his disciples, though more than once we see them trying to hush beggars or lepers calling out for Jesus.

He may have been targeting the religious leaders, Pharisees and scribes, whom he so often accused of laying burdens on people, making them feel they could never measure up to the demands of the law, ignoring the breadth of God’s mercy. Any insistence on the “right way” to believe, to act, to think, to worship can serve as a stumbling block to someone who has not been raised that way, or who has another way of celebrating the love of God.

Are we snared here? Do we impede people's spiritual progress toward Jesus by our insistence that they come into our churches and do things our way? Do we celebrate people’s belief in Christ wherever we find it, even if the packaging is different than ours? Do we make sure we are not creating barriers in the way we organize ourselves or worship? Are we out there creating easy on-ramps to faith by being open about our faith in Christ and the Good News?

There are people, children and adults, with a simple and natural faith in Jesus. I’m sure you can think of a few if you try. We need ask nothing of them but that they show us how to love our Lord so simply and so fully, for sometimes in our complexity we create stumbling blocks for ourselves.

9-21-21 - Cups of Water

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Many people who don't go to church love Pope Francis. He speaks the truth about what matters – financial inequities, environmental destruction, intolerance, war-mongering, all of it. Many people who don't go to church love the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, Michael Curry, who burst onto the worldwide scene when he preached at the wedding of Prince Harry to Meghan Markle. Since then he is often sought out by news shows to comment on current events – his unfailing ability to put love front and center, and the joy that shines through him even when he speaks of painful realities, have made him a media star.

It is gratifying to see Christian leaders generating such excitement from such a wide range of people. In their humility and authenticity and commitment to the Gospel that Jesus actually preached, Francis and Michael can do much to restore the tarnished image of Christianity. I see in their popularity among the “unchurched” a shade of what Jesus said to his disciples after they complained that someone outside their group was attempting to work miracles in his name:

“Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.”

Many churches feel increasingly isolated from their communities as efforts to attract people to worship services meet with so little success. What institutional religion is selling does not seem to be of great interest to many in today’s Western societies. Where churches can expand is by inviting people to join them in works of service. That is a most natural way to share faith, serving alongside people who are not part of our congregations, making space for them to bring “cups of water” to us and those with whom we work to address needs and change structures. From inviting people to help us serve meals in soup kitchens to promoting gun violence prevention, there are many access points that might appeal to the un- or de-churched.

What works of service or advocacy are you involved in? Who from beyond your congregation might you invite to join you? How might you lift up the gifts of such people, making them full partners in your work? How might you communicate that your commitment to this work is rooted in your relationship with Christ, that you work in his name?

Put another way: Who around us is offering us cups of water because we bear the name of Christ, affirming our work and our commitments? By all means, let’s take the water and drink it, and build on the friendship from there. We know a little something about the water of life and how to share it.

9-20-21 - The Interfaith Gospel?

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

I used to lead a large regional interfaith organization in Southwestern Connecticut. Now I live in Southern Maryland, and was asked by the President of my county's Board of Commissioners to help establish an interfaith commission here – that is about to get off the ground. God has a sense of humor, I guess – I was never much interested in interfaith work, being more focused on helping Christians become more connected to Christ, and much more aware of what he actually taught and did.

Yet I have discovered that people of other faith traditions often recognize the power of Jesus, and live according to the values of the Kingdom, even if they don’t acknowledge him as the Son of God. Evidently this is not a new phenomenon:

John said to Jesus, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” But Jesus said, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us.”

That’s a far cry from “whoever is not for us is against us,” which is the kind of rhetoric you hear from those who claim that “Christianity is under attack in this country." Jesus makes a radically open statement here – that those who honor him, even if they have not made the choice (or been offered the choice…) to follow him as Lord, are to be honored as allies and co-laborers.

I have a Muslim friend with a powerful ministry of healing prayer. That challenge me at first – I think of Christ as the one who heals. And maybe He is healing through the prayers of this very faithful, very humble, very devout Muslim. I have a Jewish friend who loves to worship Jesus. I have Sikh friends steeped in peaceful anti-violence work, and Baha’I friends who offer hospitality beyond measure. I know countless people who claim no faith or religious affiliation whatsoever doing amazing work to restore people and communities and generously give of their resources. In a time when highly visible Christians in our country vocally support hatred, racism, misogyny, discrimination, violence, xenophobia and a bias against the poor, we need to look beyond labels to words and actions.

I am not saying there is no distinction between religious traditions – I don’t subscribe to the “all religions are the same” view. As a committed follower of Christ, I believe he is Lord, Messiah, Redeemer, the Way, the Truth and the Life, and I seek to introduce people in my life to this Lord who is the source of peace, power, presence and purpose for me. Yet I also affirm the goodness and love present in many of the world’s religious traditions – and that perhaps God is bigger than the categories in which we try to contain him. Big enough even to work through people who don’t know Jesus as Lord, but work in his name.

Who do you know like that? How can you support their work? If people are to see something of value in the Way of following Christ, it’ll be because we park our judgmentalism and start celebrating love wherever we find it.

9-17-21 - Welcoming God

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

More than once, Jesus tells his disciples that how they treat the vulnerable directly affects their relationship to him. In Matthew 25, it’s those who are hungry, naked, imprisoned, sick or outsiders. In our passage this week, it is the child, the child who has nothing obvious to offer, who is raw potential.

What does it mean to welcome God in a child? It means to welcome joy and wonder, unpredictability, rule-breaking – or rule reinterpreting. It means to welcome the instinctual along with the intellectual, the emotional in concert with the organizational. It means to welcome the whole person, mind, body and spirit, just as he is, not yet fully formed but already representing the God in whose image she is made.

What does it mean to welcome God in the vulnerable and marginalized? It goes way beyond meeting their needs. That’s too low a bar for Christ-followers. It means engaging them as full persons, as equals, according them the same dignity as we would God, or anyone we consider important. It means seeking out their gifts and assets and making space for them to give to us. It means risking vulnerability ourselves by entering into relationship, not the uneven power relationship of giver to recipient, but a relationship of equals, strangers who might become friends.

The disciples thought God was best represented by the one who could be considered greatest among them, so they engaged in what we might crudely call a “pissing contest” to determine who that might be. Wrong, wrong, wrong, says Jesus. The one who might be considered greatest is the one who is willing to be the most vulnerable.

One of the best examples of that in our day is Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who said she saw Christ in the lepers and outcasts whom she nursed and loved. Lepers and outcasts come in all shapes and sizes – some even have sizable bank accounts. It isn’t for us to determine worthiness, just to commit to being about the ministry of welcoming God.

What would it feel like if we went through our days not looking for God so much as looking to see where we might welcome God into our lives? “Who will God show up in today?” is a question we might ask each morning. “In whom did I welcome God?” we could ask at the close of day.

Even asking that question will open us up. And then we are likely to be one through whom God is revealed to another. And then we’ll know what it’s like to be welcomed in Jesus’ name.

9-16-21 - To Welcome the Child

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

It’s a Kodak moment: Jesus picks up a small child to illustrate his point about humility and servanthood: He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

We find this moment sweet, because children are accorded high status in our culture. Not so much in Jesus’ time, when children were viewed as among the last – maybe ahead of slaves, but valued largely for the labor they would one day perform for the household. (Mark can’t be bothered to record this child’s gender, referring only to “it.”)

For Jesus to equate welcoming a child with welcoming him was a radical example, not a sentimental one. And he is more subversive still – for he implicitly links welcoming the child to welcoming God the Father. God represented by a powerless, status-less child? What kind of God is this?

Perhaps the kind of God who would send his son into human life as a helpless infant, at the mercy of forces political, historical and familial. The kind of God who demonstrated his power in vulnerability, who allowed that son to die the death of the “last," naked, nailed to a cross, as powerless as can be. This not the first time in the Jesus story that welcoming a child is equivalent to welcoming him. His parents, the shepherds, the magi – they all did it first.

In what ways are we called to welcome children in the name of Jesus? Certainly by according them dignity and respect in our worshiping communities, making room for their voices and wisdom (and artwork). We welcome them by spending time getting to know them as people, not adults-in-training, but already saints of God with gifts for the rest of us.

And we are called to welcome children in Jesus’ name outside our congregations too. We are called to place such value on children that we happily provide tax monies for their education, and support laws to keep them safe from harm. We come to regard every child in every country on this earth as precious and worthy of food, water, housing and education - and security.

More Kodak moments: The body of a small Syrian boy washed up on a beach, so still he could be sleeping. But he is dead, drowned, the victim of global conflicts and policies. A small girl held in a cage on America’s southern border, separated from her parents, alone and at the mercy of law enforcement officials not trained to deal with her. A young boy on a gritty street, standing over the body of his dead brother, killed in front of him in yet one more incidence of unfettered gun violence.

Jesus said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."

9-15-21 - Doormats or Doorways?

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

We all know people like this – and some of us have been people like this. People who jump up to fetch anything anyone might need, who are always asking, “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?,” who put aside their lives and careers to care for children or infirm parents, who show up at events even when they’re tired. As a culture, we’re ambivalent about such folks – sometimes we say, “What a saint!” and other times, “How codependent is she!”

Some of Jesus' teaching sounds like we are to be holy doormats, laying aside our own agendas, never seeking to be in charge, always serving. For instance, when he heard his disciples arguing about who was the greatest, He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”

Does the virtue of Christian humility demand that we sacrifice our dreams and passions? Or does being the servant of all rather require that we be true to who God made us to be? Think about it: we cannot empty ourselves if we are not full of ourselves.

To be “full of oneself” in our culture is to be conceited, self-promoting. But that way of being comes from a place of insecurity, a heart that is empty, a self that is not quite full. A healthy person knows who she or he is, faults and blind spots, strengths and gifts. Only when we truly own the fullness of who God made us to be can we empty ourselves for the sake of God’s mission. After all, Jesus did not pour himself out from stocks that were running low; he poured himself out from the fullness of his humanity and divinity.

If we want to excel as disciples of Jesus Christ, it is our calling to serve the world in his name. How does serving others sit with you? Is it comfortable? Challenging? Too familiar? Demeaning?

If it is your default position, make sure your giving is in balance with your being nourished by God and the community. If serving others is uncomfortable, practice. Go serve a meal at a shelter or soup kitchen. Take on a clerical task in your work life, even if you’re an executive.

First or last, we are never alone in our serving. We serve alongside the One who had everything and gave it all in service to an ungrateful world. He can show us how to be servants of all with dignity and grace, so that we become not doormats, but doorways into God's presence.

9-14-21 - Jockeying For Position

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Squabbling in the car on an endless road trip; that’s what I think of when I read this week’s gospel passage, and Jesus’ questioning of his disciples:

Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest.

There is something about traveling that increases tension – and when your leader has just announced that soon he will be arrested, tried and executed, that tension can go through the roof. Afraid to ask Jesus what he was talking about, his disciples instead turned on each other, talking about who was greater than the next. They appear to have been jockeying for position, little realizing that the more visible they were as leaders in Jesus’ community, the higher the risk.

Jockeying for position is something humans tend to do when we are insecure about where we are. Oh, there are some ruthlessly ambitious people who are always looking for an angle to get ahead, but most of us stay pretty content unless the ground starts to shift. Then it suddenly matters how we’re perceived and where we’re received.

As Christ-followers, we don’t have to do that. One of the huge gifts that come with membership in the household of God is freedom from having to position ourselves. In a community in which no one has more value than anyone else, no matter their level of accomplishment or productivity, we don’t have to compete with one another for attention or reward. If God already loves us the most, and is already as delighted with us as God could possibly be, why worry about being seen as worthy or getting ahead of other people?

Of course, many of us still do, because we’re human and it takes a long time for the knowledge of God’s unmerited and limitless grace to replace the messages of competition and progress we ingest from family, school and workplace. It doesn’t hurt to remind ourselves daily of our infinite worth in the eyes of the Infinite Being. Or to remind each other.

If Jesus’ disciples had grasped that sooner, they would have had a different experience of being with him. They got it eventually - and so, God willing, will we.

9-13-21 - Afraid To Ask

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

You know that awful feeling when you sense something is amiss, and you don’t know what it is, and that even asking about it might make it worse? Often we will do all we can to suppress that niggling worry, afraid to ask what’s actually going on. That’s how Jesus’ disciples felt as they traveled with him through Galilee and he continued to talk about the bitter treatment he was going to encounter.

They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.

It’s not that he was unclear – he says this at least three times as they journey on. But his words make no sense in light of their understanding that he is the Messiah, the Savior. The idea that their Jesus, so sought after by the rich and influential as well as the poor and marginalized, could be betrayed was unthinkable. And that he could be killed, he who held the power of God in his hands, who could command storms to be stilled and blind eyes to see? How could that be? And what is this he said about rising again? I suspect that made so little sense they hardly heard it. His words were so unsettling in every way, they were afraid to ask him to explain what he was talking about.

Even we, so long after the fact, left with a story we celebrate but can’t fully comprehend, let alone find Good News in, can find it hard to ask God to explain it. We might fear finding ourselves adrift in a sea of doubt, or losing our faith entirely. So we hold it at arm’s length, celebrating the high points, acknowledging the cross and empty tomb, but not wandering too close.

I believe Jesus yearns for us to wander close, just as I suspect he wished his followers would have asked him directly what he meant. Asking God to help make sense of what makes no sense is central to a living faith. It is how we deepen our relationship with God.

What are your biggest questions about the Christian faith and story? Have you asked those in prayer? Said, “Jesus, why did you have to die? Why would a sacrifice be necessary for a God of love?” and listen for an answer. A thought might pop into your head, or over the next few weeks you might find yourself encountering a response. We can do the same with questions about our own lives and this heart-breaking, beautiful world.

A friend has a phrase, almost a mantra, she repeats often, “Be open, be curious.” Freedom comes as we surface the hard questions and open ourselves to exploring the answers. We draw closer to the God of mystery in the asking. In the end, that may be the only answer we really need.

9-10-21 - Worded

You can listen to this reflection here.

The apostle James, whoever he may have been (tradition attributes the New Testament treatise to James, Jesus’ brother by blood, acknowledged as the leader of “church HQ” in Jerusalem) was a harsh critic but a superb diagnostician of the human condition. In the section of his epistle we will hear this Sunday, he talks about the amazing power in what is one of our smallest muscles, the tongue.

So also the tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits. How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire. The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell. For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison.

He is not wrong – our tongues are often our most unruly and ungovernable faculty. Who hasn’t spoken words they wished they could take back? Who hasn’t unleashed unhappy dramas by words uttered in haste or in anger or in self-pity or aggression? Words can incite wars, divorce, addiction.

As Christians, we claim that a Word incited creation. Sure, this language reflects the influence of Greek philosophy on the writer of John’s Gospel, but John’s use of the word “Logos” conveys an important mystery about God: that all creation is God-breathed, the material expression of the thought of God conveyed in the Word of God. We can say that God “worded” creation into being.

And then there is this intriguing word Logizomai, used in the New Testament to speak of our having been justified, made righteous in Christ. This word, which means “reckoned,” “considered,” “regarded as,” also has in its root “logos,” or thought/word. Through Christ we are reckoned as righteous, not by our own merits, but by his. We have been “worded” holy by God, and we accept this reckoning by faith.

God’s Word created us, and God’s Word has saved us. How might the way we use our words reflect our status as saints made in God’s image and redeemed by God’s Word? Learning to tame our tongues, to listen more than we speak, is as difficult as thinking before we speak. There is such a fast connection between thought and speech, “taming” may be too strong a term. But if we can learn to put a breath or two between thought and word we might we frame our words in the positive rather than the negative. We can train ourselves to choose our words to bless. As James writes about the tongue, "With it we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and cursing."

Even chastisement can be offered with words of blessing, affirming the goodness of God’s creation and inviting a person into behavior that reflects their true selves. Few things build up a person like words of affirmation for who they are, apart from what they do.

Let’s start to notice, after we speak, the tenor of our words. Did we build up or take down? Bless or curse? We can practice on ourselves – as we speak more generously to ourselves, we will find ourselves blessing others more.

9-9-21 - Thinking Like God

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

When Jesus tells his followers the horrors that are to befall the “Son of Man,” Peter takes him aside and admonishes him. “Don’t be talking like that! How can anything bad happen to you? I’ve just said I believe you’re the Messiah!”

And Jesus in turn rebukes Peter, quite harshly, telling him:

“You are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Jesus was asking a lot of Peter. Yet that neatly describes the task of discipleship: learning to think like God. Paul writes that those who would follow Jesus “Have the mind of Christ.” This makes sense – if we are united with Christ in baptism, if he takes up residence in through the presence of the Holy Spirit, then we have his mind as well, not replacing our own, but informing, even transforming ours.

Our minds and capacity for thought are among God’s greatest gifts to us, and also the seat of our strongest resistance to God. Funny how that is… Before we can set our mind on the things of God we have to become aware of the distinction between our own thoughts and God’s thoughts. Whenever we become aware that we are thinking out of our own reality – say, when anxiety or anger are leading the way, or we're convinced faith is irrational, or when we’re set on a course that we know is other than the way God would work in us – we can ask God to show us situations or people as God sees them. Often a broader perspective opens immediately.

This week, try to notice when your thoughts are purely human, and when they seem tinged with the holy. This is a spiritual practice we can cultivate; as we become conscious, gradually we learn to think more like God. As Paul exhorts us in Romans 12:2: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.”

It is a delicate balance to prize the gift of human nature and yet allow God’s life to grow in us and uproot everything that is not of God. Perhaps this is best summed up in the adage, “God loves us just the way we are – and far too much to leave us that way.”

9-8-21- Suffering

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Does God want us to suffer? There is a strand in the Christian tradition that looks at the suffering Jesus underwent – which he predicted – and suggests that it is in suffering that we draw closest to our Lord. This is not how Peter saw things:

Then Jesus began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.

Just before this, Peter has identified Jesus as the Messiah, the Anointed One of God long foretold, who would come to redeem the people of Israel – redeem, as in buy back a pawned item so it can be restored to its true purpose. It was assumed that the Messiah would bring to an end the suffering and humiliation of God’s chosen people. What good is a Messiah who’s going to suffer and die?

Jesus is firm:

But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."

Does Jesus, invoking Satan, see in Peter’s words a temptation, a temptation to veer from the mission he is living out, a temptation to doubt his discernment of what is ahead for him? In Jesus’ case, suffering was part of his mission; redeeming humanity would involve a humiliating and horrible death.

That is not necessarily true for us. The ways in which God might invite us to make God-Life known in the world may not include suffering in any obvious way. We may be called to write or feed or proclaim or organize and never be persecuted for our faith. But there will be pain, if we’re open to letting our hearts be broken by God’s love for this world. In that sense, every mission involves suffering.

God does not inflict suffering upon us, though our God of free will does allow it to happen. Our God who is Love will always be with us in it, and our God who is Life can bring transformation through it. Sometimes I wonder how that message falls on the ears of those in the throes of pain and suffering. Am I convincing when I proclaim that God is with us in our suffering, even as God often allows it to unfold in our lives, and that God can work redemption through it? I may doubt myself, but every time I ask a person whom I visit in a pastoral capacity if they feel the presence of God with them, the answer is usually an unequivocal yes.

It is through the presence of Christ with us that we gain the Life that overcomes death, the Life we can share with others, no matter what our condition. God does not visit suffering upon us so we can draw near to Christ. Yet I believe with all my heart that Christ draws near to us as we suffer, and helps break us open so new life can emerge from the dark earth.

The Wednesday Bible Study resumes tonight with the Letter of James: September 8, 7-8 pm EDT on Zoom. Link is here. Feel free to join in any time you can.

9-7-21 - The One and Only

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

A healthy sense of self-worth does not rest on what other people think of us. Jesus did not act or speak like he cared what other people said about him. Yet even a secure public figure will check his polls every now and then. So we find Jesus asking his disciples,

"Who do people say that I am?"

They answer readily; someone as powerful and unusual as Jesus would surely generate debate, even an assumption that he carried the spirit of a luminary from the distant or recent past: And they answered him, "John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets."

This is like entertainment writers who compare up and coming stars to those of old. “She’s the new Meryl Streep,” He’s the new Springsteen,” as though the only way to apprehend someone is to categorize them in relation to someone else. Jesus was frequently asked if he was John the Baptist returned to life. To ask that question was to miss the reality of the man standing right in front of them.

Jesus thought his closer followers might have a different perspective.

He asked, "But who do you say that I am?"

How do you answer that question? It can be as hard for us to see Jesus for who he intrinsically is, apart from what we’ve heard about him through church, history, familial and cultural assumptions, as it was for people in his day to see him apart from the great prophets of old and their own expectations in a time of national powerlessness. The only way we can truly answer that question is to seek to know Jesus as he is revealed in the Gospels, as we see his power at work through his church, and as we experience him personally in prayer.

Which also means that, if we’re active in study, action and prayer, our answer will evolve. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and for ever – but our discernment of who he is not fixed, not until that day when we see no longer “through a glass, dimly,” but face to face. In the meantime, we can read through the gospels for clues about who this Jesus guy is. We can pray to be aware of him in worship and the ministries of those who gather around his Word and Life. And we can invite him to make himself known to us in our listening prayer times and seek actual conversation with him in our imaginations, as the Holy Spirit leads us.

Peter's answer reflected Israel’s history, the promise of future redemption, and the knowledge of Jesus Peter gained in relationship with him:

Peter answered him, "You are the Messiah." In naming him as the promised One of God, Peter also claimed Jesus as one-of-kind, not the “new” anyone, but new creation.

So we too, made in the image of God as unique persons, can get to know Jesus, the Lord who was, and is and is to come - and so discover the new creations we are in Him.

The Wednesday Bible Study resumes this week with the Letter of James: September 8, 7-8 pm EDT on Zoom. Link is here. Feel free to join in any time you can.

9-6-21 - Back To the Real World?

You can listen to this reflection here.

If you’re having some trouble transitioning into the fall schedule from the slower rhythms of summer, Sunday’s gospel reading should hurry the process along. Jesus tells his followers that they have signed on for tough duty:

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?”

I don’t know if summertime is akin to “gaining the whole world,” but I enjoy it as a time of lower responsibility, slower engagement with tasks and intentions, loosening up on self-denial. Maybe you’re one of those marvelous saints who went on an incredible mission trip this summer, but I fear I got so good at living the good life on my creek, I won’t remember where I left my cross to take it up again.

Is that what the “program year” is about, taking up our cross? In some measure, yes. We dial down the lazy, and quicken the pace of our days. We reengage the world more fully. We recommit ourselves to discerning what the Holy Spirit is up to around us, and join in as we are led to participate in the mission of God to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ.

None of that may involve putting our physical lives at risk, but it does entail putting God’s work and the world's needs ahead of our own comfort - while maintaining some healthy balance. I am recommitting myself to a sabbath day once a week, a full day with no "shoulds" that allows me to recharge and return to productivity with more energy.

Today, one last holiday, we might spend some time in the presence of God and ask where we’re being directed to share our energies and gifts and resources this season. Any ideas percolating in you?

Even as we look ahead, we are still called to live in the moment, only perhaps to indwell it more fully. We let our lives be filled with the Spirit’s energy and live for the sake of the gospel rather than for ourselves. We dwell in the Realm of God – which is the most real world there can possibly be.

9-3-21 - Be Opened!

You can listen to this reflection here.

This week we explore a story of how Jesus healed a man who could neither hear nor speak: They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha’, that is, ‘Be opened.’ And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.

The story has power on its most basic level, but for some time I have been more alive to an allegorical interpretation of this tale. For me, the man who is deaf and mute can also represent the church of our day, which can be deaf to the promptings of the Spirit and impeded in communicating the Good News about Jesus to our surrounding communities.

How does it alter our understanding of this story if we put our churches in the place of the man? Let’s look at the nature of this healing. Where sometimes Jesus heals with a word, not even in the same physical location as the one healed, in this case he is intensely personal and material. He uses his own saliva, placed on the man's tongue, and puts his fingers in his ears. Beyond the "ick" factor, magnified in the age of pandemic, we see here an incredible intimacy. Perhaps our churches, and those who work so hard to sustain them, have forsaken intimacy with Christ for the burden of keeping his church lumbering along. That has ever been a bad trade!

We need to come close to Jesus again, close enough to touch his wounds, and allow him close enough to touch our ears and our tongues. We need to take to heart his command, "Be opened!," lower the barriers our traditions and customs – and jargon – put in the way of truly welcoming newcomers and seekers, and recover the impulse toward faithful faith-sharing that is in our DNA as followers of Christ.

Where do you feel your spiritual hearing might be stopped up? In what ways do you feel impeded in talking about your life in God? Today as a prayer experiment, read this story again and put yourself in the place of the man healed. Let the story unfold in your imagination, rich in sensory detail: what do you hear, smell, see? Does Jesus say or do anything different with you? Anything specific?

If it wasn't impossible to pronounce, "Ephphatha!" would be a great name for a church. I pray we will live into the heart of this command, and truly, in every possible way, "Be opened."

9-2-21 - A Different Healing

You can listen to this reflection here.

This week’s gospel passage contains two great healing stories – the first, about the Syro-Phoenician woman and her daughter, and a second, about Jesus healing a man who is both deaf and mute.

They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha’, that is, ‘Be opened.’ And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.

This healing is unique in several ways. First, Jesus healed the man in private. He doesn’t usually do that; in fact, some quite intimate healings happen in full view of a crowd. Perhaps the reason Jesus takes the man aside is related to the other distinctive feature of this healing – Jesus is unusually hands-on, even invasive. Jesus’ spiritual power is so great he can command a healing from afar. He need only speak healing and people are made whole. Why does he put his fingers in this man’s ears and touch his tongue with his own spittle before speaking a word of healing?

We can’t know the answer to that question, but it invites us to imagine. There is something powerful about Jesus using his physical life to bring healing to another – God does not eschew the material, fleshly world, but uses it for the purpose of redemption. That story is writ large in Jesus’ incarnation, of course, but we find it told in small ways throughout the gospels. The God come in human flesh uses his bodily existence to reveal the spiritual power of God. How amazing is that?!

And this God-Man coming so close to someone who is suffering, willing to put his fingers in another’s ears, and to touch his tongue with his own spit – that shows a God who wants to come close to us, who does not shy away from our infirmities but gives of himself to heal us. What wounds are you trying to hide from God, afraid he doesn’t want to know about them, or can't help? Can we invite Jesus that close?

There is another unique element to this healing – Jesus’ looking up to heaven and sighing, and then speaking the command to the man’s ears and voice: “Be opened.” A similar sequence is reported when Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead – maybe the sighing bespeaks an inner effort to transmit this greater reality of God-Life into what we think of as reality. And he speaks the healing; he pronounces it into being, the way God “spoke” the world into being – “in the beginning was the Word.”

We too are invited to speak into being God’s transforming word. That is active prayer, prayer of faith that takes God up on God’s promises of spiritual authority over the material world. Paul writes in Romans 4:17 about, “the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not.” Calling into being things that are not is what we are about. We can’t dictate God’s action, but we can direct God’s power and love into people and situations in need of transformation, as Jesus did with that deaf and mute man.

Prayer is bringing spiritual power to bear on physical situations. We can do that, right?