Water Daily: November 2021

12-1-21 - Clearing the Way

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

In the church we tend to refer to John as “the Baptist,” perhaps causing some to wonder why he's not "John the Episcopalian." Some bible translations call him “John the Baptizer.” Luke identified him not by his vocation but by his parentage, “son of Zechariah.”
…the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

The “baptism” John offered bore little relation to the rite of Christian initiation we know as baptism. He was not baptizing people into the name of Christ – he was offering a ritual cleansing to symbolize the spiritual cleansing of repentance and forgiveness. And why would anyone need a “baptism of repentance?” To clear the way in their hearts for Jesus, for the message he would bring and the reconciliation to God he would enable.

John was the advance man, and his mission was articulated even before his conception, when his father received a visit from the Angel Gabriel telling him that he and his aged wife Elizabeth, long childless, were to have a son:

…the angel said to him, ‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.’ (Luke 1:13-17)

To make ready a people prepared for the Lord – that is the mission which John lived and died to fulfill. His approach to that task was to call people to repent – to repent for personal sins and shortcomings as well as complicity in societal sins and injustices.

I’m sometimes asked why we confess our sins in church – doesn’t that convey a message of “not-good-enough-ness?” But I keep it in the liturgy for the same reason that John was in the repentance business: If we want to welcome God, we need to be real about ourselves. We need to make room in the clutter of our hearts and lives. In fact, I like to put the confession part of our worship closer to the beginning, so that we can clear the decks and make space for the Spirit before we engage the Word and share the Meal.

We are to share John’s mission to "make ready a people prepared for the Lord." We don’t need to point out to people their sins or sinfulness; we need only be clear and humble about our own, in a graceful way, speaking freely of our need for forgiveness and God’s abundant mercy. So we will invite people to bring their whole selves into an encounter with God, and let them know that everything can be transformed.

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11-30-21 - Incoming!

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here. Scroll down for news about an Advent "Spa for the Spirit" December 11.

When I was newly ordained, I was part of a diocesan Ordinands Training Program, which met monthly. Once, when we were meeting at diocesan offices, we were surprised by a sign indicating our meeting room which read, “Ordnance Training here.” We agreed that it wasn’t far from the truth.

This is what comes to mind when I read these words: “…the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.” I think of cries in battle, “Incoming!,” warning soldiers to get out of the way of enemy shells. Is this what it felt like to John when the Word of God came to him in the wilderness? Because what God asked of John prepared the ground for the coming of Christ – and also set him up for imprisonment and an untimely and brutal death in Herod’s prison.

In the bible, the wilderness is a place where people often hear the word of God. It still is – not always right away, but eventually, when we leave behind the clutter of our lives and spend time in wilder, less programmed spaces, we become more open to the urging of the Spirit. It can involve quite a wait; the word of God comes on God’s timetable, which is frustrating for those of us accustomed to making things happen. And sometimes it unfolds in increments instead of all at once. But when the word of God comes to us with a mission, it can be explosive, demanding that we rearrange our lives and priorities, even our relationships.

John had a very big part to play in the unfolding of God’s mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ. God invites you and me to participate in that mission as well – and we need to make ourselves available to receiving that word. If you want the word of God to come to you, tell God that in prayer. Say, “I’m open. I’m listening. And I'm willing to have my life rearranged.”

Maybe this Advent we can find some wilderness time, in short bits or for a proper retreat (join me online on December 11th for a few hours…), and see how the Spirit is inviting us to participate in reshaping this world.

Advent Spa for the Spirit - Saturday, December 11

Taking the Advent theme of awakening, we'll explore how we can wake to the still voice in our own spirits, to the lives of others, and to the Life of God all around us.

We'll gather on Zoom at 9 and be done around noon. You can register here - more information and the link will be sent. Please invite others who may like to come.

11-29-21 - Specificity

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here. Scroll down for news about an Advent "Spa for the Spirit" December 11.

I’m so happy to be back in the Land of Luke in our Sunday gospel readings. I appreciate Luke’s emphases on healing, justice, the work of the Holy Spirit; on Jesus’ compassion and friendships with women and people marginalized by disease, ethnicity, poverty, wealth or sin. And maybe it’s the medical training (if indeed the author of this Gospel and Acts is Luke the physician mentioned in the latter work…), but Luke is often the most precise in his reportage, telling the story as fully and accurately as possible.

So it is that, before he tells us about John the Baptist appearing in the wilderness, he gives us the who, what, when and where:

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.

Luke gives us the lay of the land, the context, exactly when this story took place, the locations that were germane, key political figures and religious leaders. He even tells us whose son John was, and where the word of God came to him.

This is more than attention to than historical detail. Luke reminds us that this great story of God’s intervention in Gods own creation wasn’t just a general tale – it was specific. It happened to real people in real places, facing real challenges and circumstances. The Good News is always infinite and universal – and as specific as a unique person born to a particular family in a particular place and community. The power of Jesus’ story is for all people in all times and places. But Jesus was rooted in a specific time and place.

So are you. So am I. The infinite and universal Love of God has also shown up in your particular person and circumstances, family, networks, preoccupations and prejudices. You first encountered the Gospel in a particular setting and person and community, just as Christ-in-you is the best way that people around you will get to know God.

Where was it that you first encountered the Living God? When? Who was in authority, and who was important in your life? What was happening in the world around you? Take some time to recall the circumstances in which the revelation of God’s love first became real to you.

That’s your story within the Great Story. We can only effectively tell the Great Story if we begin with how God showed up for us - and that story is always specific.

Advent Spa for the Spirit - Saturday, December 11

Taking the Advent theme of awakening, we'll explore how we can wake to the still voice in our own spirits, to the lives of others, and to the Life of God all around us.
We'll gather on Zoom at 9 and be done around noon. You can register here - more information and the link will be sent. Please invite others who may like to come.

11-26-21 - Alert!

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here. Scroll down for news about an Advent "Spa for the Spirit" December 11.

Jesus certainly paints a frightening picture of the end times in the portion of Luke’s gospel we hear next Sunday. Perhaps his mood was colored by what was coming next for him – betrayal, arrest, trial, torture and execution, suffering the full range of human capacity for cruelty. But the apocalypse he foretells is one all of his followers would face. Whether that prophecy was realized in persecutions wrought by the Romans, or whether it is a cosmic cataclysm still to come, he urge them to stay alert and prayerful:

"Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”

The end of the world has come many a time upon people and families and communities and nations. It comes in natural disasters and in man-made horrors like war and famine. Haitian, Sudanese and Syrian people have been enduring it for far too long, to name just a few. Is there a final “end” for which we are to be ready at all times?

The early Christians thought so. They took Jesus’ words at face value and thought his return would be imminent. This assumption led some to religious rigor, and others to licentiousness – if the world is going to end any minute, why bother with rules? As weeks turned to years and then to decades, Christians realized they needed to focus on living in the now, releasing the power and joy that are our inheritance as beloved of God. So Paul, writing to the church in Thessalonika (in a passage appointed for Sunday), says:

"May the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints."

This is another way to prepare ourselves to “stand before the Son of Man” – to learn to love more wholly, to train our hearts in the ways of holiness, to practice repentance and forgiveness, and excel at showing love and hospitality when it is challenging to do so.

We don’t have to wait for the end of the world to stand before Jesus, though one day, we’re told, this present reality will end and we will face him as judge. If we turn our hearts toward that relationship in the here and now, the “then and later” will become something to anticipate, not to fear, no matter how traumatically it occurs.

Practice in your prayer today. Stand before Jesus and say, “Make me ready. Make me ready for your life in and around me.” I believe he will answer that prayer in amazing and wondrous ways.

Advent Spa for the Spirit - Saturday, December 11

Taking the Advent theme of awakening, we'll explore how we can wake to the still voice in our own spirits, to the lives of others, and to the Life of God all around us.

We'll gather on Zoom at 9 and be done around noon. You can register here - more information and the link will be sent. Please invite others who may like to come.

11-25-21 - Gratitude and Joy

You can listen to this reflection here.

I once asked a wise person how to cultivate joy. And he said, “Joy grows out of gratitude." So I’ve made an effort to foster an attitude of gratitude, as they say, to lead with thankfulness for what is, before I focus on what’s missing. Here are a few Thanksgiving Day thankfulnesses:

I am so grateful for this Water Daily community of readers, listeners, thinkers, commentators and pray-ers. I don’t know exactly how many or who reads or hears this on any given day, but some readers drop a note often enough to give me a sense that this is a conversation, even if I’m doing most of the talking.

And I am grateful for the opportunity to write (or often, nine years in, re-write) this thing every day. Some days, I know exactly what I’m supposed to say and it comes flowing forth. The best days are when I didn’t know, and the Holy Spirit surprises me. Unsurprisingly, those are often the best posts and receive the most feedback. No matter what the process, it gives me a chance to engage with the gospel text for Sunday, and allows creativity to flow from parts of my consciousness that don’t always get the air time they should.

And I am grateful that these words help some preachers to connect with the passage in fresh ways, and some congregants to better appreciate the sermons they hear on Sunday. God is so all over this whole process, it makes me smile just to think of the space we’re giving the Spirit to play!

I wish the Americans among us a blessed and restful and delicious Thanksgiving weekend with loved ones; and all of you a time of grateful enjoyment of your own sweet self, and the Spirit of God.

Here is a thankfulness poem for today:

That Passes All Understanding

Denise Levertov

An awe so quiet
I don't know when it began.

A gratitude
had begun
to sing in me.

Was there
some moment
dividing
song from no song?

When does dewfall begin?

When does night
fold its arms over our hearts
to cherish them?

When is daybreak?

From Oblique Prayers, New Directions, New York, 1984, p. 85

11-24-21 - En Garde!

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here. Scroll down for news about an Advent "Spa for the Spirit" December 11.

En garde! That’s about the sum total of what I know about the sport – or is it the art? – of fencing. "En garde!" is what I think of when I read Jesus’ warning to his disciples:

“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, like a trap.”

If ever there were an apt warning for the day before Thanksgiving, this is it. Don’t be caught unawares… the turkey needs brining, the silver needs polishing, the oil needs changing, or was that the baby? Yep. Stress, thy name is the Day Before Thanksgiving. Whether you’re hosting or traveling, there seems to be a to-do list – especially if you have two x chromosomes… And yet, here is Jesus: “Do not let your hearts be weighed down by dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.” (Save those for Thanksgiving Day!)

This, of course, is an instruction for life, not just for a Wednesday in November. It invites us to live in a state of preparedness such as we develop during times of crisis, like, perhaps, the kind we’ve been enduring globally for the past few years. How might we cultivate a state of "en garde-ed-ness" without kicking up those nasty, free-radical stress chemicals? How can we be at peace, serene, and also alert?

The stylized movements of fencing may have something to teach us. “En garde” is the instruction given when two players face off; it begins the match (bout? I’ve already spent more time on fencing terms than I meant to.) It invites the combatants to assume a defensive posture, but one that distributes their balance in such a way that they can thrust and parry, light on their feet.

As followers of Christ, we are to be alert and on our guard against the trials that test our faith and the temptations sent our way by the enemy. Yet we are to hold that defense lightly, remembering that it is not we who do battle, but Christ who fights for us, with us. Our posture of readiness and balance allows us to pivot nimbly to whatever comes at us, and to yield to God’s power coming through us.

Balance implies an equilibrium between rest and movement, thought and action, receiving and giving. What if we made it our spiritual goal this Advent to find this balance, to be on guard but without fear, ready at all times to fight for justice and faithfulness with love and mercy, wielding “l’epee d’Esprit,” the sword of the Spirit, in the name of peace?

When do you feel most relaxed? Think about how might you cultivate that feeling more of the time, even during stress. How better to prepare for the advent of the Prince of Peace.

If you’re stressed out today, try it now. En garde!
Now relax.

Advent Spa for the Spirit - Saturday, December 11

Taking the Advent theme of awakening, we'll explore how we can wake to the still voice in our own spirits, to the lives of others, and to the Life of God all around us.
We'll gather on Zoom at 9 and be done around noon. You can register here - more information and the link will be sent. Please invite others who may like to come.

11-23-21 - Reading the Leaves

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here. Scroll down for news about an Advent "Spa for the Spirit" December 11.

Living in a four-season climate offers an ever-unfolding lesson in cycles of life, birth and faith, death and resurrection. Autumn took its time in my southern Maryland setting; only now are the leaves turning and beginning to drop, but watching the cycle again teaches me about letting things fall away, letting things die. When the cold winds come, and the barren landscape hides all the life teeming below ground, I am reminded that there is more than meets the eye. And when things thaw in springtime, that life becomes manifest above the surface, “first the blade, then the ear and then, in time, the full corn.” (Mark 4:28), teaching me yet again about the indomitability of growth.

Jesus was a student of the seasons too: Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.”

The “things” Jesus’ followers were to look for were astral signs, turbulence in the seas, and human distress. Hmmm… there is pretty much always something to see if you’re looking in those places. And there is always reason to think the signs we see are indications of an unfolding cataclysm. Famines, floods, earthquakes, terrorists… aren’t we really in for it now? Maybe – but I always like to remember that things looked a lot worse in the 14thcentury.

What if we looked for more subtle signs that the realm of God is near? Outbreaks of generosity, life-affirming discourse, spiritual revival, an increase in the numbers of people worldwide claiming the name of Christ and living in continuity with his life and the values of that kingdom he proclaimed? Now there’s a sign I’d love to see.

I’ve always been puzzled by this passage, because Jesus had already proclaimed that the Kingdom of God had drawn near, was in fact made real and present in himself. His miracles were simply demonstrations of that Kingdom life, and his stories and teachings were explanations of Kingdom values. Yes, there will be a cosmic ending, but if we spend our time reading the tea leaves for when that is coming, we will miss all the signs of God-Life around us now. We might even be diverted from being a sign of God-Life for someone else.

Advent invites us to be watchful and aware, to seek the Christ who came, who is present with us now through his Holy Spirit, who will come again at the end of the ages. Let’s not be so busy looking for signs we miss Jesus right in front of us.

11-22-21 - Climate Change

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

Scroll down for news about an Advent "Spa for the Spirit" December 11.

We’re talking about the end of the world; must be Advent. The end of the world, Jesus suggests, will not sneak up on us, tiptoeing in quietly:

“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken."

Nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves; sounds like the latest warnings from the U.N. Climate Change Conference – and environmental scientists for decades. For those who track the melting of ice caps and the rising of seas, the increasing ferocity of storms and fragility of food production, also sound the alarm about the conflicts the resultant scarcity will unleash among humans. What are we doing to each other, and to the planet we call home, with its wondrous diversity of creatures and abundant food supply?

Will the end of this world, when it comes, be man-made or God-ordained? Are we to work to save God’s creation or hasten its implosion? I’m still betting on the former – I don’t believe God has invited us to help destroy the earth, but to build God’s reign in the here and now, bringing about a just and merciful creation built on the promises of God. In that sense, we are all to be about the business of climate change. And by that I mean more than environmental ministry.

The people who follow Jesus as Lord are charged with fostering a climate of godliness, of humility, of generosity, justice-seeking, peace-making, love-giving. Not only are we to live this way – we are to create a climate in which others can experience transformation and live this way too. That is the pattern we see in the community of sinner-saints who surrounded Jesus and later his apostles.

What marks the emotional climate in your community? On your social media feed? In your local media? Is it a climate of suspicion and division, or honest inquiry and supportive assistance? Is it a climate of violence in word and deed, or generous debate? Does it celebrate death or nurture life?

And then this: how are you being called to change that climate? Where does God want you to show up? What does God want you to say? Who does God want you to love, to challenge, to break down, to build up?

We are responsible for the climates in which we live, in more ways than one. As well as working to undo the ravages we’ve wrought on this earth and its creatures, I pray we can truly be climate changers in the spiritual sense, creators of emotional, political and spiritual climates in which children can thrive and all those who are wounded can be loved back into wholeness. Even us.

Advent Spa for the Spirit - Saturday, December 11

Taking the Advent theme of awakening, we'll explore how we can wake to the still voice in our own spirits, to the lives of others, and to the Life of God all around us. We'll gather on Zoom at 9 and be done around noon.

You can register here - more information and the link will be sent. Please invite others who may like to come.

11-19-21 - Belong To the Truth

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

It is a surreal scene, this genial interrogation by the Roman governor of an occupied territory, of an itinerant holy man with no visible support – whose very life hangs on the outcome of this interview. These two do a conversational dance, Jesus never answering a question directly, making no effort to defend himself or to set up a scenario in which his life might be spared. When asked directly, “So you are a king?” Jesus only says, “That’s what you say,” and that his purpose in being born was to testify to the truth. And then he says enigmatically, “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.”

This strikes me as a funny way to put things – I don’t think of people "belonging" to the truth, but rather having the truth, possessing the truth, grasping the truth, denying the truth. What Jesus suggests is that the Truth is much bigger than we are; we can no more possess it than we could contain the ocean or corral the stars in the night sky.

This truth that encompasses us, Jesus suggests, is an objective reality – which prompts Pilate to pose his famously early post-modern question (left off our lectionary this week…) “What is truth?” I don’t think that’s a question on many people’s lips these days. There is your truth, my truth, the media’s truth, doctored distortions of history masquerading as truth. How can anyone know the Truth, much less get lost in its vastness?

Those who follow Christ are given a clue – he said he was the Truth, the Way, the Life. One way we enter into the Truth is by coming to know Jesus as he was, and is, and is to come. The time we invest in growing our relationship with this Lord who calls us friend brings us deeper and deeper into the ultimate reality of things – the Truth.

And he offered another clue: “Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” I see many Christ followers reacting out of deeply human responses these days, throwing off little evidence that they are listening to that Prince of Peace who commanded us to love our neighbors, tend the wounds of the outcast, lead with humility and not with combative fear.

How do we listen to Jesus' voice? We study his word. We tune ourselves to receive his voice in prayer. We follow his commands and teachings. We listen to other followers of Christ. We pay attention to where his Spirit is bringing life to dead places around us, and join him there. As we listen, we will hear, and we will know the Truth, and come to belong to this Truth big enough to set us free.

11-18-21 - Testifying To the Truth

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

It is human nature to want to categorize people, put them into definable boxes and label them. Pilate was trying to get a handle on who Jesus was when he asked him, “So you are a king?” Jesus answered, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.”

I wish it could be said of kings generally that they were born to testify to the truth; kings like that are the exception rather than the rule. And perhaps testifying to the truth is incompatible with the demands of political power. I don’t mean that political leaders have to be liars, but they do need to have a strategic relationship with the truth, speaking the right things to the right people at the right times, and knowing when not to speak at all.

And what is the truth to which Jesus testified? The truth about God – that power belongs to God (Psalm 62:11). The truth about justice – that God alone is qualified to judge the human heart. (James 4:12) The truth about love – that God operates in an economy of love, a love so deep and vast it is dangerous to the merely human spirit.

Those who call themselves followers of Christ are also born to testify to the truth – and for us the Truth is personal, the Truth is Jesus. We are living in days when many who claim to follow Christ are allowing fear and bigotry to draw them away from the very clear teachings of Jesus, from faith in the goodness of God. Closing our hearts to those who look, think, act, love, vote, and live differently than we do is never a valid choice for Christians. We don't have to agree or always condone, but we are not entitled to condemn or close our hearts. If ever there was a time to testify to this truth in our national discourse, it is now.

Jesus could never have been a political leader; his allegiance to the truth made him too threatening to the powers that be. We need to stand up to leaders and to fellow Christians when they turn their back on the truth. We need to stand with those who have the courage to speak for justice. We are called to be bearers of this dangerous love of God – maybe because it is inevitably diluted in us, and therefore able to be tolerated by mere human beings.

Every day, let us be bearers of Christ's truth. Let us be bearers of Christ, testifying to who he is in our lives. Let us testify to overwhelming Love.

11-17-21 - E.T., Phone Home

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

A persistent allegory of the Christ story relates it to aliens on this planet. Artists as disparate as C.S. Lewis and Steven Spielberg have explored incarnation through science fiction. It is not such a stretch to regard Jesus the Christ as an alien life form, masquerading as a human being (though orthodox Christian doctrine would deem that a heresy…). In a way, Jesus set up such speculation. Replying to Pilate’s question, “What have you done?,” Jesus answered,

“My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jewish leaders. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

Of course, our theology teaches that Jesus was not an “alien”; he was fully human even as he was fully God. But time and again he spoke of the realm of God as a place distinct from this realm of this world – contiguous with it, even infusing it, but a different address entirely.

And the values of that realm, as he taught them and demonstrated them in what looked like miracles – but in fact just revealed how the energy of that realm works – are quite distinct from man-made, purely human patterns of thinking and being. Jesus said as much to Pilate: were he operating by the principles of this world, he’d have whipped up his followers to do battle. But he wasn’t from here, and his response would reflect the principles of God-Life.

As followers of Christ we’re not “from here” either, not once we’ve accepted citizenship in the realm of God. Oh, we may carry a dual passport, but Home is not this earth or this life. Home is a full, unmediated, unadulterated experience of the presence of God. It’s a place we may visit in our earthly lives, but mostly it’s a reality we are ever moving toward.

The writer to the Hebrews said this of the great heroes of faith, “All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland." (Hebrews 11:13-14)

It is a spiritual balancing act to truly love and accept the gifts of this life, and not to get so cozy we forget where we ultimately belong. When we are able to maintain this balance, though, we are able to love more wholly, less dependently.

What, or who, do you find yourself clinging to in this world? How might you move into greater relationship with your heavenly father/mother in that other realm to which you claim allegiance?

We can start with the gift of prayer. E.T., phone home!

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11-16-21 - What Have You Done?

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

Some phrases can stop me in my tracks and put me right into a defensive mode. “I’d like to talk to you,” is one. Another is “What have you done?” I’m always sure I’m in trouble.

In his trial before Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of the occupied territory of what we now call Israel and Palestine, Jesus is already in trouble. He has been betrayed by a close friend, beaten by the High Priest’s guard, and heard the religious authorities call for his execution. This interview with Pilate is one stop on his way to crucifixion.

Pilate is aware of Jesus’ reputation as a holy man, a miracle-worker. And he knows too well the intrigues and plots fomented in the temple courts by men with a little authority, on a short Roman leash. He is not eager to be a pawn in the latest Jewish squabble. He says to Jesus, “Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?”

It is an article of faith for Christians that Jesus was without sin; tempted as we are, yet never succumbing. So how did Jesus experience that question? Did any shame arise in him? Did he live with that part of the human condition too?

I can’t know what Jesus felt, but I can imagine what he could have said: “What have I done? I have proclaimed the nearness of God. I have declared freedom to captives, whether in bondage to disease, sin or poverty. I have healed the sick and cleansed lepers and given sight to the blind, even life to the dead. I have taught that the ways of God run counter to the natural inclinations of the human heart. In God’s realm, we love enemies and do good to those who hate us. We do not seek revenge; we offer forgiveness. I have said, 'Love the Lord your God and your neighbor as yourself.'” No wonder they wanted him dead.

This imaginary recitation reminds me that “What have you done?” can cut both ways. Yes, it might invite a litany of confession and repentance. It can also inspire us to take an inventory of all that we have done to bring healing and wholeness to the world around us, all the ways we have blessed those whom we’ve encountered. I suggest we start such a inventory today, a list of all that is holy and blessed in your resume.

One day, we’re told, we will stand before a Judge, one who loves us, and who already knows what we’ve done, for ill and for good. Let’s be ready to have both sides of that conversation.

11-15-21 - Powerlessness

You can listen to this reflection here.

Oh friends, if we wanted to hide from the pain of the world in the embrace of our religious texts, we would be sorely disappointed, especially this week. For we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a political fight with religious undercurrents – sound familiar? Within a day of the interview at the center of this Sunday’s gospel story, a man revered by thousands will be dead, brutally killed at the hands of the secular ruler, under urging from the man’s own religious leaders. His followers will have scattered, hiding in terror of being arrested themselves.

We can’t get away from blood, power and violence in our Christian story. That intersection is exactly where God’s incarnate Son landed as his mission in this world culminated in his humiliation and execution. But the governor who ordered his death did not want to see him die. He questioned his prisoner closely, hoping to find a loophole that would allow him to save Jesus. Jesus did not make it easy:

Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me.”

This week we wrap up our liturgical year before resetting the clock on the first Sunday of Advent. On this final Sunday in “ordinary time,” we celebrate Christ as King. But the only images the Gospels give us of Christ as king show him as a helpless child, honored by magi; humbled, riding on a donkey; powerless, under arrest and trial; or nailed to a cross. Vulnerable, humble and powerless – is that what kingship looks like for Christ-followers?

I cannot but think of the seventeen missionaries kidnapped in Haiti nearly a month ago, or the many incidences of brutality some Christians around the world suffer for their faith. Persecution is not unique to Christians, of course – in fact, worldwide, Christians have it better than members of other religious traditions, and in our country people of Muslim, Sikh and Hindu traditions are more apt to be targeted. Yet risk and sacrifice are part of the package if we desire to follow the One who went to the Cross for us. Vulnerability and humility and service can look an awful lot like powerlessness.

The Way of Jesus was to prevail through humility and powerlessness in the temporal realm. The power he exerted was spiritual – a force so strong it could raise the dead, but not discernible to those who refused to see it.

Can we be bold enough to wield that power, given to us through his Holy Spirit? Can we dare to stand against hatred with love, against violence with generosity? That’s what Jesus did – he stood calm in the face of the man who had the power to end his life, and spoke nothing but truth. He walked into death itself and rendered it impotent. That’s how you respond to evil.

God, give us the grace to comfort, to seek justice, to forgive – and to wield love in the power of Christ.

11-12-21 - Releasing What Is Most Precious

You can listen to this reflection here.

Earlier this week we reflected on birthing and hope. These themes are prominent in a story from the Hebrew Bible appointed for Sunday, the beautiful story of Hannah and her longing for a baby. In this multi-layered account we find acute observations of marital dynamics, rivalry between women, and the often failed communication between loving partners. But chiefly we see a women desperate for the one thing that would validate her in that time and culture – bearing a child into the world.

Hannah is the favorite wife of Elkanah, but she is infertile – the way the writer of her story understands that is, “the Lord had closed her womb.” Elkanah’s other wife is very fecund – and mean.

On the day when Elkanah sacrificed, he would give portions to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters; but to Hannah he gave a double portion, because he loved her, though the Lord had closed her womb. Her rival used to provoke her severely, to irritate her, because the Lord had closed her womb. So it went on year by year; as often as she went up to the house of the Lord, she used to provoke her. Therefore Hannah wept and would not eat. Her husband Elkanah said to her, “Hannah, why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?”

There is something touching, if appallingly out of touch, about Elkanah’s belief that his love should alleviate Hannah’s heartbreak at her childlessness. And there is much that is familiar in the bitter interactions between Hannah and Penninah. What stands out for me is the picture of a family locked into bitter patterns “year by year,” and a woman sliding deeper and deeper into depression.

And then she decides to take action. Her action is prayer. Her action is offering to return to God the gift she craves if only God will grant it in the first place.

She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord, and wept bitterly. She made this vow: “O Lord of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death.

Though I don’t encourage bargaining with God, and wonder if Hannah wanted a child more to remove her shame than for love, I see in her prayer the basis for our life as stewards of God’s gifts: they are not ours to keep. Everything we have is on loan to us, to use, to enjoy, to nurture for growth, but not to keep as our own. That includes our children and spouses as well as our material goods and resources.

Hannah was willing to offer the male child she would bear to be raised in God’s temple, setting him apart for an ascetic life of service – he becomes the great prophet Samuel. God did not ask that sacrifice of Hannah, and he does not ask it of us. Yet God does want us to be willing to release our gifts into her service, be they people or resources. As you reflect on what is most precious to you today, where and how might you release that gift to bless the community around you?

11-11-21 - Neither Shall They Learn War Anymore

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

When Jesus tells his followers that the dawn of God’s New Age will be accompanied by upheaval and cataclysm, he includes armed conflict among the signs to look for: “When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom…”

Conflict seems to be a fact of life, or at least intrinsic to human nature. Almost as soon as there were two humans they began to disagree. As people developed the capacity to make weapons, conflicts became armed ones. As people developed the capacity to enslave or conscript one another, armed conflicts became a business with armies and navies, and eventually even the skies became a battlefield. And as people developed the capacity to philosophize and rationalize, armed conflict was often framed as noble and good, a necessary evil to achieve freedom and prosperity. The human cost of that freedom and prosperity was conveniently omitted from the narrative.

Is it churlish to raise such issues on Veterans Day, a day we set apart to honor and celebrate the sacrifices and courage of those women and men who serve on our behalf? I hope not. I am deeply grateful for those who serve and have served, and to those who paid the ultimate price in death or dismemberment. I ache for the many veterans in our midst who remain haunted by the trauma they’ve experienced and sometimes have perpetrated, and am deeply concerned about the paucity of mental health support being given them. I honor our veterans even as I look for a day when we won’t have any, because the human race has figured out better ways to work out conflict.

That seems about the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever written. Not even Jesus seemed to foresee such a day this side of the fulfillment of God’s Kingdom. As long as “nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom…” we will need armed forces to defend us and sometimes the defenseless in other lands. And as long as we have armed forces, we will have veterans to be honored and supported.

Yet it doesn’t have to be either/or. God’s realm is a both/ and place, and that same Jesus who predicted conflict was also called the Prince of Peace. We can support our veterans while putting our energies into expanding the many effective peacebuilding and conflict-resolution initiatives in our world. We can champion restorative justice initiatives which seek to break cycles of vengeance that fuel so many conflicts. We can teach our children better ways to achieve their goals. We can honor our active duty service members while calling out bad actors who prey on the vulnerable, both within their ranks and in the populations in which they serve.

And we can proclaim the Good News we will one day know in full, that Life of God in which all are housed, all are fed, no one is in want or need, and therefore no one needs to be in conflict. The prophet Micah painted that dream:

God shall judge between many peoples, and shall arbitrate between strong nations far away; they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more; but they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid; for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken.

Jesus suggested that nations rising up against each other are part of the birthpangs to realizing that vision of peace. Perhaps they are. But they’re not the only ones. We can show other signs of God’s in-breaking realm of peace by living as though it were already fully here.

11-10-21 - Birthpangs

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

Our origin story tells us that pain in childbirth is a consequence of human disobedience (Genesis 3:16). Whatever the reason, rare is the birth that occurs without pain or mess. It seems this is also true on a cosmic level, as Jesus describes the end of all familiar things:

“Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs."

We might look at the state of our world and see these signs – they are all there. But they are always there, in every age. Nation is ever rising against nation; the earth is ever heaving, and famines persist, preventable as they are, had we the will to evenly distribute the food produced globally. And unfortunately, people bearing the name of Christ and misrepresenting his power and message are also common.

So, why bother with these cryptic words of Jesus? They reveal how he interprets such suffering – that it is an inevitable element in the birth of the new age, the new age God is bringing into being, the new age of grace Jesus came to usher in, the new age we are to be revealing in our lives and words and actions. Paul wrote to the church in Rome:

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us…We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. Who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

As followers of Jesus, we are called to proclaim hope no matter what the circumstances; hope in the midst of fear and pain and cruelty and suffering; hope in the face of death and destruction of all we hold sacred. Thanks be to God, we don’t live at this precipice most of the time, but we need ever be honing our capacity for hope. That is what the spiritual practices of worship and prayer, study and justice lead us to, hope amid all that we cannot see.

One of the most astonishing claims of our gospels and creeds is that the Son of God himself came into this world through the birth pangs of a young Galilean woman, not in a sanitized hospital room but in the bacteria-filled muck of a stable. You don’t get messier than that. But with that birth, the world turned upside down, and as that baby grew into a man, he proclaimed and demonstrated what this upside down world of God-Life looked like. And he invites us into it.

Hope is where we dwell, midwives to the Realm of God that is being birthed, its head crowning, about to take its first breath and let loose a cry to awaken the dead.

11-9-21 - When?

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

The first question most people ask upon hearing that something bad is going to happen – a diagnosis, a job termination, an adverse economic development – is “when?” “How long do I have?” “When did the affair start?” “When is that meteor supposed to hit?” Jesus’ disciples had the same response after he told them that this mighty temple they were admiring would be reduced to rubble: When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?”

Time is among the things we can least control in this world; it marches inexorably onward, never back. We hope knowing the timing of things will give us control over them, but it is an illusory sense of power. “Forewarned is for-armed” might be useful in the face of an attack, but rarely allows us to alter the circumstances, even if we feel better thinking we understand the timing.

Christ followers are invited into a funny relationship with time. We live within it, bound by its “rules,” while we worship a God who is beyond it, a Lord who is “the same yesterday, today and forever. “ (Hebrews 13:8). The Greek word for earthly time is “kronos,” and for God’s time is “kairos.” We live in both times at once. While we count our minutes and hours and days, living in a kind of bondage to our watches and calendars, we also exist in the eternal present of God-Life, where all things are possible, where we are invited to live in total trust despite our not-knowing.

Part of our spiritual work is to become more comfortable in kairos time while dwelling in kronos. Worship in particular is meant to be a space in which we step into eternal time, not watching the clock, just being. When we’re fully absorbed in an activity that consumes our creativity, what experts call “flow,” we can also experience that timelessness. And we can cultivate that practice – stopping and stepping into prayer or meditation throughout the day, not checking the time when out for a walk or talking with someone, giving our full attention to being present in now.

The disciples wanted signs so they could be ready. In fact, we’re never ready for the end of the world, though it comes in small ways throughout our lives. When we are seized by an anxious “when?” in any area of our life, we can develop the ability to turn it over to God right in that moment. "Come, Lord Jesus, bring me into your time. Help me trust."

And we can always be ready to experience the presence and peace and power of God’s Spirit, which are already ours by faith, yesterday, today and forever.

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11-8-21 - Built To Last

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

Don’t go sightseeing with Jesus – as a tour guide, he’d be a bit of a downer. When his disciples, coming out of the great Jerusalem temple, marveled at the size and solidity of its construction, Jesus told them not to get too attached:

As Jesus came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

What a grand edifice the Jerusalem Temple must have been, rivaling Greek and Roman architecture, as impressive as the great cathedrals of the European Middle Ages or the magnificent temples of the Cambodian jungle. And this was more than a great complex – this was where the holiness of God was said to dwell on earth, the permanent home built by Solomon to replace the tents of meeting and shrines that dotted the Samarian and Judean countryside. It had been standing for some 500 years by the time Jesus and his followers met in its courts, and still it inspired awe.

What must the disciples have thought hearing Jesus’ words. A structure like this, destroyed? Imagine Washington’s National Cathedral crumbled to dust. In 70 BCE, some forty years after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, his words came to pass, as the Romans destroyed the great temple and desecrated its grounds. But I don’t think Jesus was predicting the future. He was redirecting their gaze to the spiritual movements underlying visible ones.

Great buildings invite us to marvel at the human vision and ingenuity and determination (and often exploitation) which brought them into being. They command our focus, even as they make space for the holy. Jesus was inviting his followers, and us, not to mistake the temporal for the eternal. He urged them, and us, to marvel at the spiritual reality coming into being, the new order being birthed out of the old. The human power that brought about the grandeur of the Jerusalem temple is nothing compared to the power of God to create, and again restore that creation to wholeness.

Human structures, whether buildings, governing systems, nations or movements, will always be vulnerable to destruction. Even the Church, and certainly churches, will pass away. The only thing truly built to last is the new creation we become and are becoming in Christ.

Our flesh may be as frail and impermanent as a crumbled cathedral. Our spirit, united to God’s Spirit, will live forever, a place for God to dwell, bringing new life into view, until the end of time.

To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Next Sunday’s readings are here. Water Daily is now a podcast!Subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.

11-5-21 - People Watching

You can listen to this reflection here.

Jesus was a busy guy – always traveling, teaching, healing, disputing, miracle-working. Yet he took the time to people watch, to observe human behavior and let that inspire his teaching. We see that in this week’s gospel story: He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny.

From watching these actions, noticing the differences between people, he drew a lesson that he could impart to his followers. Jesus grew up in a system that highly prized sacred writings, that pored over and discussed and interpreted and reinterpreted them. But he was not bound to the learning he could glean from a book or a scroll – he made every encounter a classroom, observing what drew people closer to God and what kept them away.

What he observed that day in the temple was the radical trust of this widow who had no resources to her name, yet put the little she did have, two small copper coins, into play for God’s work. He knew she’d provided a teachable moment, that her example of faithfulness and holiness could be shared. If he hadn’t taken the time to watch that day, he might have missed it. But Jesus did watch, and he listened – how else would he have known the ins and outs of sheep-herding, vine-tending, bread-baking and business management that he used as teaching devices in his stories?

I confess I spend very little time observing other people. In part it’s because I live in the country, more apt to observe herons and deer than other humans. But it’s also because I don’t take public transportation to get to work, or walk city streets. Mostly it’s because I keep my nose in my work far too much. What am I missing? How can I train myself to simply observe what people are doing? Is there something about the way my neighbor mows his lawn, or the fishermen on a friend’s dock that could speak to me of God?

We claim that human beings are made in the image of God – that should make them very interesting subjects for observation, most particularly when they don’t know they’re being observed. Where might you find some time and subjects for fruitful people watching? We could watch with a prayer-line open, asking God, “Show me what you’re seeing in what that person is doing. What do you want me to see?”

God has provided us a wealth of information and insight, thousands of examples both good and bad for how to live and how to trust. Jesus saw an old woman take a leap of faith, though her feet never left the ground. What might you and I see?