Water Daily: November 2023

12-1-23 - Living Awake

You can listen to this reflection here.

“Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.’”

In Sunday's gospel passage, Jesus invites us to an alert, wakeful life, always ready to respond to his entry into our lives. I think of people trying to sell their homes, who have to keep them neat for the visit of a prospective buyer at any time. Imagine how clean our kitchens would be if we always had to keep them de-cluttered! Imagine if our minds and hearts maintained such discipline.

Or couples expecting a baby to arrive – they don’t know exactly when that moment will come. They stay ready, bags packed, gas in the car, cell phone charged, ready for new life to break in. That is Advent. That is Advent living, for all the time. And it is not easy.

Waiting for God to show up – cataclysmically, at the end of the ages, or here and now, in the midst of our mess – can also feel like that. Though we might look back on events and say that God’s timing was just right, in the moment it can feel like we’re waiting forever. How can we both live in the moment, and in anticipation of what God is inviting us into?

One way to be more content in both our waiting and our anticipation is simply to be present. Now. Focus on where you are in this moment, not the next, not the one that just passed. Now. Where is the joy now? Even when we know the ending to a book we’re reading, we still want to read our way there. Advent life is living in the “now” as if the “then” has already come. In the Realm of God, it has. In this world, it’s still unfolding.

In this season of getting ready to celebrate Christ’s entry into our world, we might examine how ready we feel for a radical change of status. Dark forces afoot in our world can fill us with anxiety at such a prospect – and Jesus’ imagery of stars falling and a darkened sun doesn’t help. But try to imagine a delightful change, and ask the same question: how ready am I? What would I want to do or have done? How might I want to develop my relationship with God in order to be ready? Just asking those questions can create openings for the Holy Spirit to guide us.

Eternity is a forever of Now. Learning to wait with anticipation while fully content will serve us well in this life and in the life to come. It creates in us a capaciousness and a serenity in which others can seek shelter. It creates space in which the Holy Spirit can dwell and bless others. When we live with intention, choosing to choose the light, we become bearers of it, no matter how dark the sun gets.

To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.

CANCELED: ADVENT RETREAT MORNING "SPA FOR THE SPIRIT"

11-30-23 - Are We There Yet?

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

Some of us may have endured long car rides during Thanksgiving week; if your passengers included small children, you may have heard these words, in less than dulcet tones: “Are we there yet?”

Jesus’ followers had a similar question for him. If he was indeed the promised Messiah, shouldn't he get around to ringing down the curtain on the bad old days? Things were not good – the Romans on their backs, their own tax collectors squeezing them for every penny, not to mention the temple taxes. Life was hard and often cruel. When was Jesus going to deliver them from all this suffering?

These questions did not go away after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension. His followers were all the more convinced he was indeed the Messiah. So how long did the world have to wait? When would he return to usher in the New Age?

But as to the “when,” not even Jesus knew: “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”

Jesus drew an analogy to the natural world:

“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates.”

“These things” were the crises in the political and natural realms he’d discussed just previous to this conversation (Mark 13:1-23), earthquakes, famines, wars. As we witness all these things in our times, it is tempting to read apocalyptic interpretations into world events. But I am more interested in is the other signs that “he is near, at the very gates,” signs that appear because we invoke Jesus’ name, his love, his power. As followers of Christ, we are called to be like those fig trees when summer approaches, to let our branches become tender – both vulnerable, and conductive of new life. Every time we feed the hungry, console the desolate, confront the powers, heal the broken, we put forth leaves that tell the world that God is on the move, death has been conquered, everything is about to change.

What “leaves” are appearing on your branches these days? Give thanks for God’s life coming through you today. And what buds are about to leaf out? Pray those into fullness.

As much as we are called to be branches in full leaf, we are also called to point out leaves on other branches, to proclaim the inbreaking reign of God every single time we see evidence of grace. That’s how the world will know what signs to look for. Let us be God’s fig trees, in season, and in out, so everyone will know that Christ is near. O come, O come Emmanuel!

CANCELED: SATURDAY - ADVENT RETREAT MORNING "SPA FOR THE SPIRIT" No registrants. We will try again in Lent.

11-29-23 - Election or Selection?

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

It’s been a challenging few weeks in Gospel-lectionary Land for people who believe in universal salvation, the doctrine that all are saved by Christ’s redeeming work, whether or not they believe or want to be included. Last Sunday it was Jesus’ vision of the final judgment, with the righteous sorted from the damned. This week we hear about the end times, and this troubling verse: “Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.”

Just what, or who, is meant by “his elect?” Can anyone join that party, or do you have to be invited or, worse, elected? For us the word “election” implies a democratic process, but theologians of old used that word to connote God’s choosing us for salvation. It’s more selection than election, and in some passages Jesus suggests it is not automatic, giving rise to the doctrine of predestination, the belief that some are chosen for salvation - or not.

There is some comfort in the notion that there is nothing we can do to secure eternal salvation – that is grace, which is pure gift. But most folks like to be able to control their destinies, to earn their way. And what if some get the gift and some do not? What if “winning the lottery” on earth, by where we are born, and in what color skin, and with what accompanying resources and privileges, means we are shut out of the heavenly courts? What about faith and belief? Some passages imply this is the key, the one response required from us to what God freely offers.

It is human nature to look at a phrase like “his elect” and immediately wonder about the opposite – who loses. But nothing in that word implies a limit – everyone might be God’s “elect.” If the love of God is as merciful and all-encompassing as Jesus implies in some of his teaching, then we might imagine that those being gathered from the four winds includes most if not all of humanity. It's one reason we are to make the love and power of Jesus known in our lives.

It is not given to us to know who is or is not “elect.” Christians who presume to judge that for others are usurping a role reserved strictly for God. Jesus told us only to love one another as God has loved us – with mercy and compassion and truthfulness and healing. That should keep us busy enough not to have time to worry about who’s “in” and who’s “out,” even ourselves.

One of my parishioners once told me of her 4-year-old grand-niece, who had spoken about her recent baptism at Show & Tell. Asked by a teacher what baptism meant, the girl said, “It means that even when you’re not perfect, God forgives you.” Bingo!

Instead of worrying about whether or not we’re included, let’s set about being the kind of Christian community in which that girl, and all her peers, grow into adulthood holding that perfect knowledge. A church that knows that in its guts can transform the world in Amazing Grace.

SATURDAY - ADVENT RETREAT MORNING "SPA FOR THE SPIRIT" (online) December 2, 9-12:30. Register here; information and Zoom link will be sent prior to the event.

11-28-23 - On the Clouds

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

Rolling dark clouds are a staple of sci-fi movies, and they don’t generally presage a good time. When clouds start moving rapidly in a glowering sky, you know Someone or Something is coming, with or without benign intentions.

This is what I envision when I read the words attributed to Jesus in the gospel passage with which we begin the season of Advent: “Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.”

Jesus does not say when this event will take place, but he pictures a cataclysmic End that launches the great Beginning that will have no end. Anyone paying attention will have noticed that a return implies a departure; they thought he was going to finish his business then and there, but he sets up a later and much, much bigger event.

In Christopher Nolan’s film Interstellar, intrepid scientists travel through space seeking a hospitable planet to colonize, since human behavior has rendered our earth toxic to human life. In Nolan’s vision, salvation comes from humankind cracking the cosmic secrets of space-time-gravity to access a new habitat. Our Christian vision of salvation has a similar theme – but its movement is from the cosmic to the earthly. For us it is God, the author of the mysteries of the universe, who transcended them to come into our dying world, to plant a seed of healing among us. Christ’s redemption includes the restoration of the universe – and what we might call a re-colonization, as the “elect” are gathered from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

These apocalyptic images remind us where our Christ story ultimately ends – not in the manger, not on the cross, not even with the empty tomb, but with the New Heavens and a New Earth. When we pray, “Thy Kingdom come,” that is what we are inviting into being, that eternal reality that we can occupy here and now, in glimpses and bursts.

Today pray very slowly through the Lord’s Prayer, and pause to reflect on that phrase, “Thy Kingdom come.” How does that petition open up the other phrases in the prayer Jesus taught his followers to pray? What does it open up in you?

The great Advent hymn Lo, he comes with clouds descending captures the cosmic grandeur of what lies before us. God’s future is both now and yet to come. We live in it, and we live into it.

SATURDAY - ADVENT RETREAT MORNING "SPA FOR THE SPIRIT" (online) December 2, 9-12:30. Register here; information and Zoom link will be sent prior to the event.

11-27-23 - Rattling the Powers

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

Most years, the first Sunday of Advent falls during Thanksgiving weekend, leading to a mash-up of metaphors and motifs to go with our mashed yams and turkey. This year’s calendar gives us a full week to prepare for Advent, that paradoxical season of darkness and foreboding, expectation and hope. Our gospel reading starts us off in the shadows, with Jesus’ perplexing discourse about cataclysmic suffering soon to befall his followers. But is he talking about Roman persecution, or the end of the world?

“But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”

Jesus sounds most like Israel's prophets here, foretelling gloom and doom. In what comes before this passage, he’s been discussing the onset of a crisis in human terms. Here the warning signs are cosmic, with a darkened sun, a weakened moon, falling stars. And what does it mean to say that “the powers in the heavens will be shaken?”

“The heavens” is bible-speak for the spiritual realm where entities both good and evil operate. Jesus' mission was about spiritual warfare. Indeed, in much of his ministry he was doing battle with forces of evil, reclaiming and freeing people from bondage to sin and death. That work he supremely accomplished on the cross, and he invites us to help bring it to completion in the fullness of time. When Christ is on the move, then and now, it rattles “the powers in the heavens.” In light of the victory he has already won, still unfolding in our view, that’s good news.

Every time we carry out an apostolic ministry, we rattle the powers of heaven. Every time we challenge untruth or injustice or misused power – even when it emanates from others who claim to be Christian – we rattle the powers of heaven. Every time we defend the vulnerable from bullies, personal or corporate, we rattle the powers of heaven. Every time we invoke the power of God to forgive, heal and restore the broken, we rattle the powers of heaven. Sometimes it gets us in trouble, but Jesus promises to be with us.

What "powers in the heavens" are you feeling called to rattle? Political powers, emotional powers, corporate powers, social powers, cosmic powers? Name a realm and ask Jesus what action he is preparing for you to take. Pray to be filled with the Holy Spirit, and you can be sure you are fighting with God, serving God’s purposes.

“The world is about to turn,” goes the chorus to Canticle of the Turning, a hymn setting of the Song of Mary. We can help to bring about that turning in our time.

SAVE THE DATE: Advent Spa for the Spirit (online) Saturday, December 2, 9-12:30. Register here; information and Zoom link will be sent prior to the event.

11-24-23 - Can You See Me Now?

You can listen to this reflection here.

In this Sunday's gospel reading, Jesus says that when we give to people in need, we give to him. He says people in need are “his family.” So… what does that make us?

When we try to wrap our minds around this vision Jesus lays out, it can be easy to get into “us” and “them” thinking. If we are to care for the hungry, the naked, the incarcerated, the stranger, the thirsty, the sick, then we must be okay. They are “the needy,” we are “the givers.” We can forget how often we are on the receiving end of someone else’s giving… sometimes the very people we think we are caring for. Tax breaks for the well-off are funded in part by taxes faithfully paid by undocumented laborers in line for food.

Some years ago, my congregation in Stamford had a thriving ministry among people who were homeless in the city’s south end. It started with a monthly healing service, which turned into a weekly bible study at the shelter, and then spilled onto the streets as we reached out to those who wouldn’t come in. A few parishioners made sandwiches and brought soup and offered them out to a group that hung out on the sidewalk, partying. And then they said, “Anybody want a prayer?” Every hand went up. Even the biggest, toughest guys wanted prayer. So they prayed.

The next time, after offering prayer, the leader said, “I’ve got a cold. Would you pray for me?” She was engulfed in the group as everyone came and laid hands on her and prayed for her. And then they went back to drinking and cussing!

Who was the giver? Who was the givee? We became one community out there on the sidewalk, with Christ discernible in all of us. Jesus invites us to find him in people to whom we offer love. Remember that others have found him in us.

Can you think of a time when someone regarded you with eyes of love, maybe when you didn’t feel you deserved it? Did you know Jesus was looking at you?

Can you think of a time you found yourself able to love someone unlovable, or care for someone in extreme need when you didn’t particularly feel like it? Did you feel Jesus loving through you? I want to develop the spiritual practice of remembering in such encounters, “This is a child of God,” to start by honoring God’s creation in front of me. I’m praying for the grace to make that my first response.

Let’s pray today to be given the faith vision to see Jesus in unlikely people. And ask for the Holy Spirit to make Christ visible in us, and for the grace to become more transparent.

I’m reminded of those mobile phone ads that had the guy going all over the country saying, “Can you hear me now?” to demonstrate the breadth of the cell network. I think Jesus is saying to us, “Can you see me now? Look, now I’m in this person, now I’m in that one.” And also in you, and in me, in a "cell network" that has no end.

SAVE THE DATE: Advent Spa for the Spirit (online) Saturday, December 2, 9-12:30. Register here; information and Zoom link will be sent prior to the event.

11-23-23 - Jesus' Family

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

Many in America will gather with family today. Will we have a foretaste of heaven or hell? Jesus draws a sharp distinction between those two realms in this vision of the End. Behind Door#1 is an inheritance of infinite and eternal value: "Then the king will say to those at his right hand, 'Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.'”

Behind Door #2? Damnation: "Then he will say to those at his left hand, “You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.”

Jesus so wants to emphasize this teaching that he repeats the whole narrative of “hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick, in prison,” in almost the same words – but the second time he indicts people for what they did not do: “…for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, (etc.)
...Then they also will answer, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?” Then he will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.”

It’s a low bar, to have to serve only “one” of the least. Maybe the folks in the "cursed" line couldn’t even do that, and are left to the consequences of their self-gratifying narcissism and cruel neglect of those with whom they shared this planet. Let’s hope there aren’t too many in that line.

The folks on the right are perhaps continuing a relationship with Jesus they embarked upon in their earthly life. In taking care of the “least of these” members of what Jesus calls his family, they have become part of the family themselves and thus inheritors of the Realm of God.

This parable is about more than “doing good,” or “charity,” or taking care of the “less fortunate.” It goes deeper – the blessed are those who not only serve but identify with the stranger, the sick, the incarcerated, the hungry, the naked, the thirsty. indeed are willing to see them as family. They don’t see themselves as “other” or “better.” Maybe they help because they don’t believe they are any better, just more fortunate. Or they offer care because, like Mother Teresa with the lepers of Calcutta, they actually experience Christ’s presence in the ones in need.

Do you ever have the experience of helping someone and feeling you’re connected to Jesus in that moment? Or feel related to people in extreme need? When I have prayed with people in in homeless shelters, occasionally a moment of camaraderie breaks through my sense of being different from them. Then I feel like I'm their sister, not a "helper."

How might we become more open to people who seem so different from us – living hand to mouth, unable to stay sober, manipulating their way through life? If Jesus says those people are his family, and we’re his family, how might we share Thanksgiving with them?

SAVE THE DATE: Advent Spa for the Spirit (online) Saturday, December 3, 9-12:30. Register here; information and Zoom link will be sent prior to the event.

To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for All Saints Sunday.Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.

11-22-23 - Blessed Are the Unsuccessful

You can listen to this reflection here.

In this week’s gospel story, Jesus speaks of what will be “when the Son of Man comes in his glory.” I assume this means the end of the world as we know it – after all, when Jesus returns in glory and ushers in the reign of God’s perfect peace and justice, we’re kind of done. Roll up the sidewalks and repair to those heavenly mansions prepared for us, to enjoy an eternity of love at a never-ending banquet.

But according to this vision not everyone will be there – the “cursed” will be sorted out, the “blessed” invited in. And what is the criteria for this sorting? How we treat the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the outsider, the sick, the imprisoned; in other words, the marginalized: “Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”

Jesus anticipates that the blessed will be baffled – “When did we see you hungry and feed you?” He says the king will answer: “Truly, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

We know that by “me” Jesus means himself – he, who called himself the "Son of Man” is the king in the story, and the marginalized are his family. This give us two big clues about how we might find ourselves on the right side in glory:
1. We will give ourselves to those who are not successful in worldly terms; being hungry, thirsty, unclothed, sick, or imprisoned are not markers of worldly success, right? And
2. We will give ourselves to Jesus, who said we’d find him in exactly those people.

The world looks for Jesus in fancy churches and gilded mosaics – and where has he always been found? In a stable amidst the straw; on the road, nowhere to lay his head; at dinner with toughs and low-lifes – and, finally, in a god-forsaken killing ground, the “Place of the Skull.” The only time we see Jesus in palaces is when he’s being interrogated in Herod and Pilate’s kangaroo courts.

This is the beauty of our salvation story: this unfathomable lowering of God himself into human form; the mystery that the One who IS outside of time and space consented to be bound in those dimensions, to live and die at the mercy of the very people he came to save, forgive, heal, redeem, set free. We see the Anointed One disguising his royalty in the rags of beggars and harlots, lepers and prisoners. And, as Martin Luther noted, we are the beneficiaries of this Great Exchange, as we trade in our rags for his royal robes.

Where do you usually look for Jesus? I often seek him in my prayer imagination, as that’s how he’s been most real to me. I forgot to look for him among the "unsuccessful." Do you know anyone you’d categorize as “unsuccessful” by the world’s measures? Have you seen Christ in that person? Is Jesus inviting you to look for him in a particular person or sort of person? What happens when you pray for that person today? What happens when you ask Jesus to reveal himself in that person or persons?

When we seek to love Jesus in an “unsuccessful" person we show them love too. They don’t know it’s Jesus we’re loving – they just know someone is seeing them, honoring them, feeding, tending to them. And gradually, as we keep it up, they become stronger and transformed into the very image of a “successful person.” Just like you and me, right?

SAVE THE DATE: Advent Spa for the Spirit (online) Saturday, December 3, 9-12:30.

11-21-23 - The Great Sorting

You can listen to this reflection here.

Should we blame Jesus for the age-old bias against left-handers? In this week’s Gospel reading, he spins a vision of the Son of Man seated in glory, with all the nations gathered before him, sorting people like livestock. The blessed go to his right hand, the cursed to his left: “All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left.”

Why do goats stand in for the cursed? Why must any be cursed? For that matter, why must the judgment involve separating the sheep from the goats? (Or, for Episcopalians, the chic from the gauche… ba-dum-bum…) Why must there be a judgment at all? And need we fear it?

How literally should we take Jesus’ words here? Though this is not a parable in the same way as Jesus’ other stories, he does use symbolic language to convey a spiritual truth. He wants his followers to know that our choices in this life have consequences – and that we will be judged in large measure by how we do or do not care for the most vulnerable among us. Put another way, How well did you love your neighbor?

Many church-goers I encounter are profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of a Final Judgment. I am too. We don’t know what will be. We only know that in the gospel accounts handed down to us, Jesus referred to such an event occurring at the “end of the age.” He was right in line with the testimony of Israel’s prophets, all of whom refer at some point or another to the Judgment or the Day of Wrath or the “Great and Terrible Day of the Lord.” Christian preachers who try to “scare folks into heaven” come by that approach honestly – our scriptures are full of dire warnings.

I prefer to “love people into heaven," and I suspect you do as well. As we will see when we explore the details further tomorrow, Jesus associates salvation not only with how we treat others, but how well we recognize him. He is our “ticket to heaven,” if you will.

But I wonder: do we want a heaven from which some are excluded, even if they’ve excluded themselves? Do we want a sorting? I can think of few visions sadder than people sent to the left side, cut off from the Promise. Well... how about torturers or terrorists? Abusers of children and animals? Would I be sad to see them sorted out? On some level yes, even them. I don’t want to think anyone is beyond hope, beyond the reach of God’s power to transform. Black hearts have turned before. Witness John Newton and a thousand others.

It is so hard for me to find the Good News in this scenario. It’s not enough to think “I’m safe.” I want the promise to be eternal, the offer good forever, for all time, all people. So I will pray, pray for those who seem to turn their back on God, on Jesus, on the good, whether it’s because of disorder or trauma, or because they’ve made a full-on choice to get what they can in this world, no matter who they destroy.

Maybe as we pray we can see a speck of room for Jesus in them, and we can pray that he will heal and gently guide them home with the rest of the sheep. And the goats.

11-20-23 - King of All Nations

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

We are nearing the end of our church year – next Sunday is celebrated as “Christ the King” Sunday in many churches. This is not an actual feast day, but it brings our year of Jesus-stories to their ultimate end: that this strangely born infant who was honored as king; this crucified teacher who was lauded and then mocked as king; truly was, is, and is to be the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

We also come to the end of three weeks in Matthew 25, a chapter full of rich parables and images. Once again, Jesus has a story to tell, but not this time a parable. Parables are allegorical tales Jesus told to describe the Kingdom of God. Here he spins a future vision in which he explicitly images himself as a king, seated on a throne, overseeing a gathering of all nations and peoples. He is not telling a story in symbols – he is proclaiming his future, a future when he is no longer cloaked in human flesh with all its limitations, but fully revealed, radiantly triumphant. This is what he says will happen:

“When the Son of Man comes in his glory and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him.”

At the very beginning of our salvation story, God makes Abraham a series of promises, and each one includes this: that through Abraham all nations will be blessed. Later, psalmists and prophets pick up the theme of all nations; Isaiah foretells the day when all nations will stream to the light of the one true God (Isaiah 60:3). Later still, St. Paul echoes Jesus’ vision in his letter to the church at Ephesus (also a reading appointed for Sunday): “God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come.”

The promised, in-breaking reign of God is not only for those who follow Jesus in this life. It is a promise of peace for the whole world, a vision of nations coming together. In our ever more fractured world, it can be hard to believe in such a vision – but our believing is one of the ways God brings it into being. When we believe in that vision of unity, it is harder to perpetuate enmity and violence. As we put our faith in that vision, we desire it and work toward it, becoming the peace-makers and justice-seekers Jesus wants his followers to be.

Here’s a prayer exercise for us to try today: Pick any two bitter world enemies. Imagine people from those two nations streaming toward a light-filled mountain, merging as they come together to climb toward the light. That’s a way of praying. Take another two nations, do it again. Think of an enemy of your own country. Imagine being part of a stream of your fellow citizens moving together toward the Light of the World, the King to whom all earthly powers will yield authority. That’s the future we proclaim. THAT’s the Gospel, the Good News we have to share.

I know a woman who prays daily for peace in the most unlikely places, for the conversion to love of the most hate-filled souls. She is actively exercising faith, speaking God’s future into being now. I suggest we join her. All nations will be blessed through us.

11-17-23 - The Rich Get Richer

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

Call in the dentists – it's the end of another parable and some poor guy has just been thrown into outer darkness with weeping and gnashing of teeth. Jesus uses this phrase a lot. I wish I thought he was being funny. I prefer the parables that emphasize mercy and forgiveness. Yet there seems to be no grace for this hapless servant who hid the talent entrusted to him. He says his piece to the master, and gives him back the coin, saying, “Here you have what is yours.” But the master is livid, saying:

‘You wicked and lazy servant! ...you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. So take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. As for this worthless servant, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

Wow. This guy might have thought he was doing the right thing, the safe thing. But the safe thing is not what the master considers the right thing. He is not going to give this one a second chance, but will take the resources from him and give it to the one who already doubled his money.

Is this right? Is this fair? Is that how God regards us when we don’t use the riches we’ve been given? Well, God’s ideas of equity and ours often differ. If God wants to see God’s mission accomplished, and God has chosen to work through humankind, it makes sense to give resources to people who have the faith, the vision and the courage to implement them. If we feel impoverished as people or communities of faith, it’s not that we’re bad, or wrong – it may just be that we’re timid, risk-averse, inward-looking.

The problem with this last servant is that he operated out of fear. Jesus invites us to operate out of faith – again and again we hear him reward faith where he sees it. Faith and fear cannot coexist – the more space we give to faith, the less room there is for fear. And vice versa.

What is the greatest gift God has given us? According to St. Paul, it’s love. (I Corinthians 13) Today I suggest we read through this parable again, substituting the word “love” for “talents.” How that opens it up!

We are also reminded in I John that, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” Can we invest the love we have in loving others – which is about the most risky thing we can do in this life? Are we spending all we have in love? Or have we buried our love, or some of it, in a hole, covered over, "safe?" Do we bury our love in over-work or stress or sadness, afraid to risk losing what little we have?

That’s a thing about love – if we’re afraid of losing it, we already have. And when we give it away lavishly, we seem to find it multiplying in our lives. That’s how the “rich get richer” in the Life of God. That’s how we make enough wealth to provide for everyone – a wealth of love, enough to reclaim, restore and renew this world and every person it.

11-16-23 - God's Joy

You can listen to this reflection here.

Some people see God as a “watchmaker” – a creator who made the world, wound it up and set it in motion, and sits back watching it tick, for good and ill. This would not be a deity who intervenes in the affairs of his or her creation; this God privileges free will to the max.

At first glance, the “master” in the parable of the talents could bolster such a view of God. He heads off on a journey, leaving resources and instructions – not too specific – with his employees. And, like the long-delayed bridegroom in last week’s parable, he stays gone awhile, so long that perhaps his employees think he’s gone for good, that they run the business now. But no: “After a long time the master of those servants came and settled accounts with them.”

The way he goes about the accounting suggests an ongoing relationship, one which has not been diminished by his absence. To each of the two servants who doubled their money he says, “Well done, good and trustworthy servant; you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.” Inviting others into his “joy” does not sound like an aloof watchmaker boss.

Why, I wonder, did Jesus tell of two servants who had differing amounts to invest? Saying it twice to make the point? Maybe. Or maybe he wants to be sure we get the message that it’s not the amount that matters, it’s the act of investing, taking risks, seeking to grow what we’ve been given. Investing our gifts is not only for the wealthy or the multiply blessed – it’s for all followers of the Jesus way. The master's praising each of these servants the same way, regardless of how much they earned, suggests that God is more interested in our engagement than our results. No matter the total, if we invest we are invited into God's joy.

Joy is a state of being that incorporates contentment, trust, serenity, happiness, yet is deeper and more encompassing than any of these. We can experience joy in the midst of pain and loss. Joy is one of God’s greatest gifts to us.

Have you experienced the joy of God when you’ve been in service to someone or something? Perhaps you followed an impulse to help someone, or did something that moved your church further in mission. We get a certain kind of kick we get when we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us.

If you can recall a time when you’ve felt “the joy of the master,” consider it. What were you doing? How did you feel God’s presence and activity when you were involved with that? How did you feel later? Can that happen again?

And if joy has not been much part of your experience of church, Christianity, God – there’s something to ponder too. What’s in the way – something in the institution, something in you, or both? If we can be aware of the barriers we can pray them down.

Jesus told his followers on the night before he was arrested and killed, “I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.” (John 15:11) Even then, knowing what was before him, he spoke of his joy and wanting them to have it. He’s already given it to us. We need to keep unwrapping that gift.

11-15-23 - Use It Or Lose It

You can listen to this reflection here.

I once attended a seminar on personal finance and learned this: if you do not choose to invest your money, you are in effect choosing to lose your money, as it gradually loses value with the rate of inflation. Not choosing means losing.

A biblical exemplar of “not choosing” is the third servant in Jesus’ parable of the talents, or coins: “The one who had received the five coins went off at once and traded with them, and made five more coins. In the same way, the one who had the two coins made two more coins. But the one who had received the one coin went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money.”

Why would he think it a wise move to hide the money? He was afraid of losing it; this seemed a risk-free strategy. Turns out he was also afraid of his master, telling him when he returns from his journey: “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.”

This guy does not think very highly of his master’s integrity – he as much as calls him harsh, dishonest, a thief "appropriating" what is not his to take. Nor does this servant appreciate the trust placed in him – he can’t wait to be rid of the burden: “Here you have what is yours.”

Who does Jesus intend this servant to represent? Another way to ask that is: what does it mean to invest our "talents" in the spiritual life? To me, investment means full-on engagement in the life of faith – orienting our lives to moving in the mission of God, praying with bold expectation, taking risks in ministry, risking disorder, disdain, disappointment. It’s radical trust in the Spirit of God to lead and guide us. It’s saying and praying, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

By contrast, burying our “talent” is playing it safe, laying low. Instead of radical trust, we exhibit radical mistrust in the power and promises of God. We focus on institutional religion and its rituals, and pay way more attention to the unanswered prayers and things that didn’t work than to our victories in God. We allow ourselves to become bench-warmers (or pew-warmers…), disabled and sidelined. The master in Jesus’ story has no patience with this:

“But his master replied, ‘You wicked and lazy servant! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. So take the coin from him, and give it to the one with the ten coins.”

Which servant do you feel most like today? The big risk-taker investing all five of her coins, the moderate one with the two – or the one who plays it so safe he accomplishes less than nothing?

If you’re in the latter category, faith-wise – what’s holding you back? Do you mistrust God because of some pain that you feel God allowed, did not prevent? Prayers you did not see answered? Do you see God as a harsh judge, or as loving father? You can afford to be honest with God. Allow the Spirit to pour some healing balm into those wounds, and think about trusting again.

The great thing about being a servant and not a master is that we don’t have to worry about results. We just have to follow orders and give it our all, and let God bring about the outcome. The very act of stepping out in faith, Jesus suggests, allows God to work through us – and the yield is abundant.

11-14-23 - Double Or Nothing

You can listen to this reflection here.

I wish I knew the investment strategist guiding these guys in Jesus’ story: “The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents.”

I don’t know what a “talent” is worth, but doubling your money is always a good deal. If my math is correct, each of these servants got a 100% rate of return. And I don’t know how sophisticated Jesus’ command of math was (hey, if he could conquer death he could handle calculus, right?), but I read into that percentage a symbol of wholeness.

This is a parable about faithfulness, not finance. As we invest faithfully the assets God has given us, we realize wholeness. And if we believe that the mission of God is to restore all of creation to wholeness, we get a big clue about how we as followers of Christ are to go about participating in God’s mission. One message of this parable is: Our acts of faith will yield fruit, 100% worth. Our holding back in fear? Nothing.

And we should expect big yields! We’ve grown so timid, so many of us nth-generation Christ-followers. For too long we have dwelt in the land of diminishing returns, our attendance and budgets and staffs shrinking, our giving tepid, our children fleeing what we know as “Church,” our neighbors disinterested in joining us. So we adjust our expectations downward – and maybe we hold back on our investment of faith and energy too. And all the while it may just be that God is leading us to do church in a new way.

This parable invites us to look up and remember who called us to those tired buildings in the first place. The Lord of Heaven and Earth says, “Join me – I am making all things new! Here, I give you all these riches, freely, your inheritance. Now plow it back into our Family Business. Let’s see what 100% growth looks like.” And you know, when we expect 100% , we’re more apt to realize it.

In what places in your life do you believe you reap a mighty return on investment of your time and energy? What feels fruitful? Why do you suppose that part works?

Where do you feel you get nothing back, or see returns diminishing? Might you ask Jesus to show you a new way to invest in that area of life? Maybe we need some new methods.

100% growth – I like it. it starts with our hearts and our faith and our actions, opening ourselves to the nudgings of the Holy Spirit. We can’t do it without God, and it seems God won’t do it without us.

11-13-23 - Investment

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

Jesus was a versatile communicator, ably connecting with diverse audiences. To describe the realm of God, he told stories of sheep, vineyards, bread-baking, house-cleaning, farming, crime victims, rebellious sons, foolish bridesmaids. This week we explore a parable set in the world of finance, a story of investment, stewardship, trust and mistrust. Like last week’s, this parable illuminates Jesus’ warning: “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour” – of the final judgment, that is.

To give his followers a clue what it means to live “awake” (not, perhaps, the same as “woke”…), he tells a story about three servants to whom a man entrusted his wealth:

“For it is as if a man, going on a journey, summoned his servants and entrusted his property to them; to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. The one who had received the five talents went off at once and traded with them, and made five more talents. In the same way, the one who had the two talents made two more talents. But the one who had received the one talent went off and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money.”

A simple enough story on the surface; if you read to the end (spoiler alert!), you know that the two who invested their funds were rewarded, while the one who protected his master’s investment was roundly condemned. We'll focus on them another day. Today let’s consider how the language of investment can draw us into the Life of God.

"Investment" is a word I use a lot in stewardship season, inviting congregants to make financial pledges on which the church will base its budget. A pledge is an investment in what God is up to at your church. Beyond "seeking support," investment is active, participatory; when we invest in something, we look for returns, maybe even work to improve the returns.

The life of faith might be seen as an exercise in wealth management. Our God, who made it all and owns it all, has invested tremendous wealth in us. God has given us life, gifts, relationships, work, ministries, joy, love – you name it, not to keep and hoard but to tend and nurture for growth. God wants to see great returns on the investment God makes with us – our children growing healthy and independent, our marriages becoming more than the sum of two partners, our work lives fruitful in ways that expand possibilities for others, our ministries fostering faith, and us all working for peace and equity. All of this “good fruit,” to use Jesus’ phrase, comes from our returning the trust God has invested in us by our investing in one another, in this world, and in the mission of God to reclaim, restore and renew all things.

What are some assets you feel you have been given? Make a comprehensive list – and don’t forget to include the intangibles, spiritual and emotional and relational gifts, along with the quantifiable ones. In what ways have you invested these assets so they grow? Are you clinging to any, afraid to risk losing them?

This is good prayer fodder. Let’s spend time today chatting with God about our answers to these questions, asking God for some “stock tips,” places God particularly wants us to invest ourselves and our gifts.

Jesus invites us to step out in faith, investing our energy and resources, not sure of the return. The faithfulness God seeks is in the act of investing, not in the dividends.

11-10-23 - Dancing With Fire

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

“Don’t play with fire,” we learn early in life from parents, camp counselors, Smoky the Bear. Fire, so cozy and warm in a fireplace, so romantic or spiritual on the ends of candles, can be so destructive if uncontained.

In our faith lives, however, we are invited not only to play, but to dance with fire, the fire of God. Perhaps I’m overly taken with this notion that the ten bridesmaids in Jesus’ story needed their lamps to dance in procession, escorting the bridegroom to his waiting bride. I love the image of flames weaving through darkened streets, building up anticipation of the joyful union to come. It’s a beautiful metaphor for how we can live out our identity as Christ followers, bearing his light into the world.

Do you wake up every morning and think, “I am a bearer of light?” The shortening days around us in the northern hemisphere can be a good reminder. And if we commit ourselves to being light-bearers, we’ll need to keep our oil reservoirs full, just like the bridesmaids in our story.

In the early church, oil was a symbol of the Holy Spirit. Many baptismal rites relied heavily on oil for anointing as a sign of the imparting of the Spirit. Paul, writing to the Ephesians, reminds them that they were “marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit” as a pledge of their spiritual inheritance, already available to them. We receive the same sign at our baptisms, a cross marked in oil on our foreheads.

It is the Holy Spirit who inspires us to ministries, large and small. It is the Spirit who equips us with the gifts we need to live out those ministries. It is the Spirit who empowers us, working through us so that we can do so much more than we can ask or imagine. It is the Spirit who brings us peace and union with Christ.

How do we keep our reservoirs filed with the Spirit? Pray. The prayer, “Holy Spirit, fill me…” is one God answers. In our human limitation, we often need to be refilled, for we are leaky vessels. And the oil we need comes free; it cannot be bought, as the foolish bridesmaids attempted to do. That prayer reminds us that any light-bearing we might accomplish for people walking in darkness will be by the Spirit’s power in us, not ours alone. We can’t lose with the prayer to be filled with the Spirit.

Have you noticed any dark streets or darkened hearts that could use some light? Do you feel you have some to share, or is your flame a bit dim? We’ve learned this week about keeping our lamps trimmed through spiritual practices that open us to God’s abundant life. Add to those a regular prayer of, “Holy Spirit, fill me,” and we are always ready when the cry comes to greet the Bridegroom.

The world needs not only the light we bring – it also needs our joy. So we dance with our lights, as the bridesmaids danced the Bridegroom to his wedding feast and beloved bride. The bride is the church – a community of individuals in varying stages of coming to know Christ. Every time we dance the presence of Christ through the dark to a person waiting to receive him, we draw nearer to him ourselves.

Why play with fire, I ask you, if you can dance with it? That is our sacred duty, our inheritance, and our glorious future.

11-9-23 - Jesus, the Bouncer?

You can listen to this reflection here.

I like happy endings. Yet a happy ending for one is often not for another. Victory in a game, or a war - or an election – means defeat for someone else. Not all happy endings have a sad flipside, but many do. So I’m not crazy about the way Jesus’ story of the bridesmaids ends. When the foolish bridesmaids discover their lamps are going out due to insufficient oil, they ask the ones who thought to bring extra to share, and are told:

“No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.” And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, “Lord, lord, open to us.” But he replied, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you.”

I envision a crowd outside a popular nightspot, with a bouncer letting in the “cool ones” and keeping out those who are not on the list. But these bridesmaids thought they were connected. “Check it again,” they cry, “I’m sure we’re on there. We’re bridesmaids! We just had to run and get more oil.” But the reply is cold as ice: “I do not know you.”

Is this how Jesus will respond to us if we’re unprepared or late? His “punchline” to the story is: “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” Is there no room for complacency? No missing the boat? And what about those who never knew about the club in the first place?

We encounter this harsh teaching at the end of a few parables. It seems counter to the message of acceptance and grace Jesus so often extended to people. He seemed most harsh with those who should know better – the religious leaders and his own disciples. These “foolish” bridesmaids represent people who’ve already made a commitment to the realm of God. There’s no excuse for them not being ready to fulfill their mission. Is there?

How do you feel as a disciple of Jesus Christ? Prepared? Equipped? Your lamp lit and oil reservoir full? If not, what do you feel you are lacking? Can you come into conversation with Jesus about that today? Ask him where the resources are, and as you wait for response, think about your circumstances and the people around you. What else do you need, and who else do you need, to more fully engage in God’s mission of reclaiming, restoring, renewing?

And if you feel the foolish bridesmaids got a raw deal, and fear you’d be in the same boat, that is definitely something to talk over with Jesus in prayer. Relationships require honest communication.

At the end of The Story, I hope and pray that door stays open to all who come, at whatever hour, as another of Jesus’ stories teaches us. In the meantime, we are invited to trust in God’s mercy and live into the mission which Jesus has entrusted to us – always ready to carry the light.

11-8-23 - Oil Crisis

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

At first glance Jesus’ parables often seem upside down. In this one we see half the bridesmaids rewarded for refusing to share, and others punished severely for merely failing to prepare. Hmmm. The nap they all took while waiting for the bridegroom to show up does not seem to have been a problem, and each had taken care to prepare her own lamp. The issue was that half of them had not thought ahead.

“But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’”

Had the lamps had been lit earlier, when they thought the bridegroom would come any minute? Were they burning during nap time? Whatever the reason, the five foolish bridesmaids had not foreseen the need for extra oil. They’d brought just enough, which turned out to be not enough at all. And the wise (or “fuelish?”) were not about to share.

Wait a minute – isn’t Jesus in favor of sharing? Loving your neighbor as yourself? Doing unto others? What’s up with the selfish bridesmaids, and why does he deem them “wise?” Let’s think about it. If they'd shared the extra oil they’d brought no one would have enough. All the lamps would go out, and the bridegroom would arrive to darkness. No procession, no dancing, no lights. Maybe he wouldn’t even be able to find his bride. This falls into the category of the airplane instructions to put on your own oxygen mask before helping children and other passengers.

If Jesus’ story is a metaphor about God’s Bridegroom coming into the hearts of humankind to draw us into union with God, then an absence of light is a grave problem. The wise bridesmaids have their eye on the big picture, the overall mission, where the foolish ones can’t see past their personal success or failure. The disciples God seeks, Jesus suggests, are those who are conscious, aware, prepared, and focused enough on shining God's light in this world to not allow distractions to pull them off-mission.

In our day we know a thing or two about distraction – pervasive media, data, noise, busyness. And in our post-Christendom culture, there are fewer external supports to living our lives focused on Christ – and a lot more competition. Soccer on Sundays isn’t the half of it. I know people who hold back from a deeper spiritual commitment because their spouse or partner is not interested. I know many people who let their workload dictate their priorities (too often I’m one of them).

It is not selfish to preserve time to be quiet with God, to foster your relationship with Christ. When we’re in love, we don’t question the amount of time we spend with our beloved. Jesus invites us into a relationship of love in which he becomes our first priority. If what we’re promised is true, he is our one eternal relationship – getting to know him and letting him get close to us is the greatest gift we can give to the people in our lives, no matter their short-term needs.

When we are refreshed, we are much more effective as representatives of God in the world. We are more finely tuned to discerning need around us, and to the movement of the Spirit in us. We are quicker to recognize our own faults and invite Jesus to set us free. We become wedding attendants who can dance Jesus into the hearts of those who might be ready to fall in love with him. He’ll do the rest.

11-7-23 - Trimming Our Lamps

You can listen to this reflection here.

Turns out there is an art to making a flame, at least when it comes to lamps. According to Wikipedia, “A poorly trimmed wick creates a flame which is dim and smoky. A properly trimmed wick should come to a rounded point, or should be wedge shaped.” The bridesmaids in our story took care of that: “...at midnight there was a shout: ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’ Then all the bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps.”

Yesterday I shared that the “lamps” in Jesus’ parable may have been more like oil-soaked rag torches. Perhaps so, but he does speak of trimming wicks, which suggests a more sophisticated level of lamp technology. He seems to say, “It’s not enough to have access to fire, and fuel to burn – if we want our light to be strong and unwavering, we need to keep our wicks well trimmed.”

How does that translate for us as Christ-followers engaged in God’s mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation? Our primary means of keeping our lamps ready to burn clear and bright are spiritual practices. These include well-known disciplines as well as rituals and patterns we develop for ourselves. The “big ones” are:

regular participation in worship with the Body of Christ;
regularly reading and chewing on Scripture;
regular times of prayer and contemplation in which we seek to hear God speaking to and through us;
regular acts of giving and mercy.

Beyond these are disciplines such as fasting, confession, retreats, and pilgrimage that help us draw nearer to God.

Note the emphasis on the word “regular,” the root of which gives us our word “rule.” Like monastics, we are invited to take on a rule of life, a planned and articulated series of spiritual practices we find faith-strengthening and life-giving. Just as we exercise our bodies regularly, these practices make us more grounded, healthy, responsive, nimble and strong.

Some of our personal rituals and routines can also be spiritual practices for us. These might include walking, hospitality, writing, listening, drawing, music – anything that can be woven into the rhythm of your day or week that calls you to your truest self and opens your spirit to the life of God.

Do you have a “rule of life?” I developed one that included some time each day interacting with nature, regular walks and writing nature poetry as well as daily prayer, bible study and journaling, and monthly hospitality. (I hasten to note my compliance with my own rule of life wavers a bit..) What spiritual practices do you currently engage in, formally or informally? Make a list. Are there some you’ve been wanting to take on and haven’t gotten to? You could offer that desire or intention to God in prayer and then make a plan to incorporate it into your life. Be specific about the when and where, and who might support you in that practice.

If you don’t have a spiritual director or formalized “spiritual friendship” with anyone, I highly recommend a personal trainer or exercise buddy for your spiritual life. Jesus invites us to partner in ministry, and the accountability and other perspective is invaluable. (Email me if you want help with this.) For today, let the Tedeschi Trucks Band version of the song Keep Your Lamps Trimmed and Burning call you to prayer. (Gospel choir version here.)

All the wick-trimming in the world, though, won’t let the light shine if we don’t have enough oil. The spiritual life is always a combination of our discipline and the Holy Spirit’s serendipitous presence. Tomorrow we’ll talk about what it means to have enough oil to shine for all the world to see.

11-6-23 - Bridesmaids

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

This coming Sunday, we get one of Jesus’ more complex and confusing parables, about the wise and foolish bridesmaids. No, this isn’t the Kristen Wiig flick; this is Jesus telling a story to explain something he’d told his followers: “Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.” (Matthew 24:42)

To teach them about being prepared, Jesus compares God’s realm to bridesmaids awaiting a tardy bridegroom: “The kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept.”

So, why were the bridesmaids going to meet the bridegroom? Where was the bride? And why did they need lamps? The story makes more sense to us if we know a little about marriage customs in Jesus’ day – or what scholars think might have been marriage customs in Jesus’ day. I have read that in and around Bethlehem, around the time of Jesus and later, they would have wedding processions at night through the towns. The bridesmaids would greet the bridegroom and escort him to the bride, dancing with lit torches.

If so, the “lamps” in the story were really more like torches, rags soaked in oil and put in a bowl on a stick. Once lit, they’d last about 15 minutes, and then, if the distance was longer, more oil would be needed to keep them lit. Maybe that’s why these wise bridesmaids had not only their lamps, but extra oil, so they could do the dance with fire, whereas the foolish, shortsighted ones were going to be unable to fulfill their dance.

It’s a good metaphor for being faithful and ready – especially for disciples called to be bearers of light, bearers of the One who said "I am the Light of the World." There’s more to the parable, and we’ll let it unfold through the week, but let’s start with the drowsiness of the bridesmaids. How can we stay ready when what we’re waiting for seems so long in coming? It’s not hard to sympathize with them becoming drowsy and dropping off to sleep. How often do we feel God is too long in coming, too long answering our prayers in a way we desire, or that this Christian life is kind of a slog?

The bridesmaids' drowsiness can be likened to the spiritual condition called “acidie,” a kind of spiritual ennui we get when our love for God has grown tepid, nothing feels fresh or passionate. If our relationship with God is lukewarm, it’s hard to praise, it’s hard to get excited about service or sharing our faith with others. And for us, so far from the events we read about in the Gospels, it can be easy to feel it’s all ho-hum unless we have new encounters with Jesus in prayer and worship and service.

If that’s where you are, tell Jesus that today. If you are in a more connected, passionate faith place, rejoice in that. Either way, spend some time today in prayer with the One whom John the Baptist referred to as the Bridegroom. We are invited this week – and always – to take on the mantle of bridesmaid, one who dances the Bridegroom to his bride. In Christian metaphor, the bride is the Church. What might it mean to dance Jesus to his church?