I don’t know how one looks at the heavens and discerns the significance of a new star, but our magi seemed to have had that ability: “In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’”
They must have been acute observers of the night skies to notice a new star. We now know that a new light in the sky can signify the death throes of a star, its light only becoming visible to us long after it has ceased to be. That’s not how our magi would have seen it, I suspect – they saw a new and wondrous light, so bright it had to be of great import, telling of a new king.
A pinpoint of light. There are days when this world can seem so dark that the light of Christ is no more than a tiny point. There are those who find it completely irrelevant, who claim his star flamed out years ago. That’s not how our magi would have seen it, I suspect – nor how we are invited to see it. With the eyes of faith, and our experience of God, we know that that pinpoint is the merest echo of the vast presence of the One who is light itself, energy in its purest form.
At Christmas, we celebrate the dawning of a new star, the “Bright Morning Star,” one of the names by which Jesus is known. And we claim that Jesus was that vast presence, unknowable to our human senses, who made himself knowable in human flesh, the One who said, “I am the light of the world.”
That One also told his followers they were to be lights for the world. We are called to be reflectors of that star. And so our spiritual work in this life is keeping our mirrors clean and de-fogged, the better to reflect the radiance of the Bright Morning Star. Do you feel anything dimming your radiance today? Feeling under the shadow of a feeling or a memory or a loss? How might you identify that, and offer it to God in prayer? How might we experience the Holy Spirit as glass cleaner, making us more radiant?
This star we celebrate is ancient, and yet ever-new. As we embark upon a new year, calendar-wise (in every other way, it’s just a new day, right?), I pray we will shine more and more brightly with the radiance of Christ’s splendor. That’s way more than a pinprick of light in the darkness – that’s a light that renders the darkness obsolete.
12-30-14 - The Frightened King
How sweet, the little lord Jesus, tucked away in a manger, asleep on the hay…
Well, sleep while you can, little buddy, because this is not such a sweet story, is it? Mom and Dad are in a strange city to comply with Roman law, administered at the point of a sword. And if the Romans aren’t bad enough, their puppet, the Jewish King Herod, is about to hear of your birth – and he doesn’t behave well when threatened.
Few things are as frightening as taking power. As soon as you have it, you have to worry about who’s going to come and take it from you. Herod heard from some foreign visitors that they’d seen celestial signs of a “king of the Jews” having been born. Well, he was the king of the Jews, wasn’t he? And he hadn’t had any new offspring. How seriously was he to take these clowns from the East?
According to our story, Herod took this threat very seriously indeed, calling together all the advisors and theologians he could muster, to ask where the Messiah was to be born. All they could come up with was what the prophet said: “They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea.” Then he tried to manage the situation, getting inside information from the magi themselves and directing them toward Bethlehem. If they found something there, he’d know about it. If they didn’t, he could relax… for a little while.
Herod is only the first of many human rulers to be alarmed at reports about Jesus. At this point, the infant seemed no threat to anyone, but the Messiah could come at any time. Herod seems to have forgotten that fighting to secure his position against the One sent by God would mean fighting against God. Who can win that fight?
That’s what happens when we become attached to human power. We can forget to be leaders, forget God who entrusts us with leadership. Our world is full of Herods, from Assad to ISIS commanders to Guatemalan gang leaders. And what do Herods do when threatened? They slaughter children and wipe out communities, and they never, ever feel safe.
How are we to respond to these terrified and terrorizing figures? Few of us are in a position to confront directly. But we can pray for, and pressure our governments to stand against tyrants. And we can wield the power that so fills despots with fear – the power of Jesus, of whom Simeon said, “He is destined to cause the rising and falling of many in Israel.” Wielding the power of Jesus means refusing to seek human power ourselves. For power over others always makes human beings prey to the power of evil.
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, among others, knew that. In his practice of non-violent confrontation he invited those with human power to unleash their worst - and as they did, they revealed their inhumanity. The wounds they inflicted were real, but they gave away true power with every blow. I wondered why I was writing about this today – usually Water Daily is aimed more at our spiritual lives, as though those were somehow distinct from geo-political realities. Then I remembered the murderous conflicts raging in the world, and the movie Selma (which I have not seen), bearing witness to another way of fighting injustice. This story is now.
In his earthly life, Jesus refused to be drawn into the power game. And in seeming to yield to human power, he modeled the strongest power the world has ever seen, power that overturned death and the source of evil itself. We, who bear his name, are invited to subvert human power by committing ourselves to non-violence, to reconciliation, to praying for our enemies, to making peace. That’s power without fear.
Well, sleep while you can, little buddy, because this is not such a sweet story, is it? Mom and Dad are in a strange city to comply with Roman law, administered at the point of a sword. And if the Romans aren’t bad enough, their puppet, the Jewish King Herod, is about to hear of your birth – and he doesn’t behave well when threatened.
Few things are as frightening as taking power. As soon as you have it, you have to worry about who’s going to come and take it from you. Herod heard from some foreign visitors that they’d seen celestial signs of a “king of the Jews” having been born. Well, he was the king of the Jews, wasn’t he? And he hadn’t had any new offspring. How seriously was he to take these clowns from the East?
According to our story, Herod took this threat very seriously indeed, calling together all the advisors and theologians he could muster, to ask where the Messiah was to be born. All they could come up with was what the prophet said: “They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea.” Then he tried to manage the situation, getting inside information from the magi themselves and directing them toward Bethlehem. If they found something there, he’d know about it. If they didn’t, he could relax… for a little while.
Herod is only the first of many human rulers to be alarmed at reports about Jesus. At this point, the infant seemed no threat to anyone, but the Messiah could come at any time. Herod seems to have forgotten that fighting to secure his position against the One sent by God would mean fighting against God. Who can win that fight?
That’s what happens when we become attached to human power. We can forget to be leaders, forget God who entrusts us with leadership. Our world is full of Herods, from Assad to ISIS commanders to Guatemalan gang leaders. And what do Herods do when threatened? They slaughter children and wipe out communities, and they never, ever feel safe.
How are we to respond to these terrified and terrorizing figures? Few of us are in a position to confront directly. But we can pray for, and pressure our governments to stand against tyrants. And we can wield the power that so fills despots with fear – the power of Jesus, of whom Simeon said, “He is destined to cause the rising and falling of many in Israel.” Wielding the power of Jesus means refusing to seek human power ourselves. For power over others always makes human beings prey to the power of evil.
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, among others, knew that. In his practice of non-violent confrontation he invited those with human power to unleash their worst - and as they did, they revealed their inhumanity. The wounds they inflicted were real, but they gave away true power with every blow. I wondered why I was writing about this today – usually Water Daily is aimed more at our spiritual lives, as though those were somehow distinct from geo-political realities. Then I remembered the murderous conflicts raging in the world, and the movie Selma (which I have not seen), bearing witness to another way of fighting injustice. This story is now.
In his earthly life, Jesus refused to be drawn into the power game. And in seeming to yield to human power, he modeled the strongest power the world has ever seen, power that overturned death and the source of evil itself. We, who bear his name, are invited to subvert human power by committing ourselves to non-violence, to reconciliation, to praying for our enemies, to making peace. That’s power without fear.
12-29-14 - Star Seekers
Next Sunday we will still be in the Christmas season – but our gospel reading is an Epiphany story (no time to stretch it out – by the second Sunday in January, Jesus will be all grown up and getting baptized…) So we will encounter those mysterious wise men from the “East,” who followed the star so far from home – right into our pageants and crèche sets.
Where did Matthew hear this story that has come down to us as part of Jesus’ nativity narratives? Did Luke not hear it, or not include it? So many questions…
Who were these star seekers? A new light had appeared in their night sky, and their interpretations of it told them that a new king had been born for the Jews. What had these people to do with the Jewish people? We do not know. We’re not sure where they came from, or how many they were. The only thing we might reasonably assume is that their names were not Caspar, Melchior or Abegnado whatever the third guy is said to have been called!
Why were they willing to travel so far to offer obeisance to a foreign king? What was it about that star? Its brightness? Its sudden appearance? Some astronomers think a super nova was visible in the heavens around that time, and that this is what the magi saw. (I once read such a book – I think it was called The Once and Future Star; here’s a link, though I can’t tell from the description if it is the same book.)
What did these men care about a king for the Jews? Did the star they saw signify great power? Did they want to be the first to get in his good graces? The gifts they are said to have brought are of extremely high value and very symbolic – gold as treasure, frankincense, a resin prized for its scent, and myrrh, also a resin, from which ointment was made for anointing bodies for burial. These are gifts for a king indeed. What did they think when they found a mere child? Matthew only tells us that they knelt and worshiped him and offered the gifts they had brought.
And what do they signify for us? How do you find your way into this story? Do you feel like one who is seeking and has found, or is still on the road hoping you’ve read your guidance correctly?
If you heard about Jesus, would you travel to see him?
What is the most precious gift you might offer him?
We could start with our time. As we begin another round of Jesus stories, might we consider investing more deeply in getting to know Him in these stories? That means not only reading the story, but spending some time in contemplation, meditating on the story, discerning who you most identify with in that tale on a given day, asking Jesus to be real for you as we allow the story to usher us into prayer.
When we truly find ourselves in Jesus’ presence, we have no need to look further. Perhaps that is why those magi, for all their wealth and knowledge and sophistication, knelt and paid homage to this small child. As unlikely a king as he appeared to be, they knew they had found the Real Thing.
There was no need to look further, only to bask in his presence, offer what they had come with, and take the long way home, their hearts full, their longing satisfied.
Where did Matthew hear this story that has come down to us as part of Jesus’ nativity narratives? Did Luke not hear it, or not include it? So many questions…
Who were these star seekers? A new light had appeared in their night sky, and their interpretations of it told them that a new king had been born for the Jews. What had these people to do with the Jewish people? We do not know. We’re not sure where they came from, or how many they were. The only thing we might reasonably assume is that their names were not Caspar, Melchior or Abegnado whatever the third guy is said to have been called!
Why were they willing to travel so far to offer obeisance to a foreign king? What was it about that star? Its brightness? Its sudden appearance? Some astronomers think a super nova was visible in the heavens around that time, and that this is what the magi saw. (I once read such a book – I think it was called The Once and Future Star; here’s a link, though I can’t tell from the description if it is the same book.)
What did these men care about a king for the Jews? Did the star they saw signify great power? Did they want to be the first to get in his good graces? The gifts they are said to have brought are of extremely high value and very symbolic – gold as treasure, frankincense, a resin prized for its scent, and myrrh, also a resin, from which ointment was made for anointing bodies for burial. These are gifts for a king indeed. What did they think when they found a mere child? Matthew only tells us that they knelt and worshiped him and offered the gifts they had brought.
And what do they signify for us? How do you find your way into this story? Do you feel like one who is seeking and has found, or is still on the road hoping you’ve read your guidance correctly?
If you heard about Jesus, would you travel to see him?
What is the most precious gift you might offer him?
We could start with our time. As we begin another round of Jesus stories, might we consider investing more deeply in getting to know Him in these stories? That means not only reading the story, but spending some time in contemplation, meditating on the story, discerning who you most identify with in that tale on a given day, asking Jesus to be real for you as we allow the story to usher us into prayer.
When we truly find ourselves in Jesus’ presence, we have no need to look further. Perhaps that is why those magi, for all their wealth and knowledge and sophistication, knelt and paid homage to this small child. As unlikely a king as he appeared to be, they knew they had found the Real Thing.
There was no need to look further, only to bask in his presence, offer what they had come with, and take the long way home, their hearts full, their longing satisfied.
12-27-14 - Word Made Flesh
Abstract or concrete? Philosophy or story? How do you take your theology? Straight up or with a twist? The gospels are flexible enough to incorporate many learning styles.
On Christmas Eve, we are steeped in story, personal and intimate, sweeping and glorious, each element a rich vein of symbol and language to speak of how much God loves us. And then, on the first Sunday after Christmas, in Episcopal churches we go to the prologue of the Gospel of John, which is as abstract as a love story could possibly get.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
Right off the bat, we are invited to suspend our literal mindedness (“how can something be with God and be God?”) and enter a swirl of words that convey a truth. What does “Word” mean? Most likely “logos,” translated as “word,” means something closer to the “mind” or the “primal thought” of God. Does that make it more or less confusing?
That first paragraph tells the whole story – of what was before we were, of creation, of life and light, and light overcoming darkness. In theological language, we see the doctrines of God, Creation, Incarnation, Salvation – all in a few short lines.
But on the Saturday after Christmas, who is thinking about theological doctrines? Some of us are cleaning up, putting out bags of torn Christmas wrap. We may be enjoying another day with family and friends, or just resting as the calendar delivered us an extra day by having Christmas on a Thursday. I hope none of us is taking down Christmas decorations, as we have a full ten days more of Christmas to celebrate. (That siren you hear is the liturgical police ready to pull you over….)
If you want to take a little devotional time today, you might read over the passage several times, slowly, and see where you get snagged. If something is confusing, take note. If something is pleasing, read that part again. What is the overall sense you come away with? What is the heart of the passage?
For me, the heart is “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”
The story of God, so far away, so holy, so “other,” moving into our neighborhood and settling down so that we can draw near – that’s a story that never gets old. I feel frustrated in how to convey it as Good News to a people for whom it has become hum-drum, and to others for whom “God” is entirely irrelevant, but I believe it is the heart of the gift Christians have for the world. I will continue to try to get inside that mystery and discover the “Word made flesh” who wants to know me and be known by me.
However it is that you best comprehend the story of God’s amazing love and desire to be close to you, I hope you are both shaken and stirred.
On Christmas Eve, we are steeped in story, personal and intimate, sweeping and glorious, each element a rich vein of symbol and language to speak of how much God loves us. And then, on the first Sunday after Christmas, in Episcopal churches we go to the prologue of the Gospel of John, which is as abstract as a love story could possibly get.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
Right off the bat, we are invited to suspend our literal mindedness (“how can something be with God and be God?”) and enter a swirl of words that convey a truth. What does “Word” mean? Most likely “logos,” translated as “word,” means something closer to the “mind” or the “primal thought” of God. Does that make it more or less confusing?
That first paragraph tells the whole story – of what was before we were, of creation, of life and light, and light overcoming darkness. In theological language, we see the doctrines of God, Creation, Incarnation, Salvation – all in a few short lines.
But on the Saturday after Christmas, who is thinking about theological doctrines? Some of us are cleaning up, putting out bags of torn Christmas wrap. We may be enjoying another day with family and friends, or just resting as the calendar delivered us an extra day by having Christmas on a Thursday. I hope none of us is taking down Christmas decorations, as we have a full ten days more of Christmas to celebrate. (That siren you hear is the liturgical police ready to pull you over….)
If you want to take a little devotional time today, you might read over the passage several times, slowly, and see where you get snagged. If something is confusing, take note. If something is pleasing, read that part again. What is the overall sense you come away with? What is the heart of the passage?
For me, the heart is “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”
The story of God, so far away, so holy, so “other,” moving into our neighborhood and settling down so that we can draw near – that’s a story that never gets old. I feel frustrated in how to convey it as Good News to a people for whom it has become hum-drum, and to others for whom “God” is entirely irrelevant, but I believe it is the heart of the gift Christians have for the world. I will continue to try to get inside that mystery and discover the “Word made flesh” who wants to know me and be known by me.
However it is that you best comprehend the story of God’s amazing love and desire to be close to you, I hope you are both shaken and stirred.
12-25-14 - Blessed Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
From my creche to yours.
May it be a day of love and giving, receiving and feasting - and may we pause periodically to wish Jesus a happy birthday. I think we know what's on his gift list....
Water Daily may or may not appear tomorrow - depends on travel fatigue, etc. But if not tomorrow, Saturday!
From my creche to yours.
May it be a day of love and giving, receiving and feasting - and may we pause periodically to wish Jesus a happy birthday. I think we know what's on his gift list....
Water Daily may or may not appear tomorrow - depends on travel fatigue, etc. But if not tomorrow, Saturday!
12-24-14 - Shepherds and Angels - and You
The stable wasn’t the only center of action that original Christmas Eve - God had a wider canvas in mind and a bigger cast. The holy child arrived, we fade out on the manger for awhile and shift focus to the fields outside Bethlehem, to a bunch of shepherds “keeping watch over their flocks by night.” Flocks were valuable assets, and nighttime was perilous – predators, thieves, all kinds of dangers lurked in the dark.
Sheep herding was not a glamorous profession in Jesus’ time. Shepherds represented the dregs of society, dirty, crude, unkempt, maybe the last group on earth you’d think would be the first to hear of a cataclysmic, world-transforming event. But our God of surprises doesn’t see in those categories. The least likely became the first – does that sound familiar?
And not only the first to hear; this bunch of low-lifes were the recipients of a celestial visit, a host of angels. The highest possible order of being, shining with the glory of the Lord, and rough-hewn riff-raff, brought together on that bright hillside to share joy.
“In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”
Think God was up to something? Think God is still up to something? A group of people of whom no one expected anything good were entrusted with the best news of all – the birth of the Messiah, a savior, the Lord. It became their news to tell, backed up by the most amazing light show ever seen. To be the bearer of news everyone wants to hear – that’s a status upgrade right there.
Of the many messages in this strange tale we tell over and over, here is one: that no one, no kind of person, no category of person is insignificant in God’s eyes. In God’s Life the most marginalized become the center of the story. ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!’
Who is on the margins of your life, or your community’s life? Can you invite someone into the center tonight? Can you honor the least likely person by entrusting her with this amazing news? Maybe you feel like you are the least likely person. Know this: God has chosen you, to share God’s most precious gift. Can we acknowledge that we are that loved and share it with someone else?
For a little while that night, there was peace, there was joy, there was amazement and wonder, shared between shepherds and angels, earth and heaven. I pray that for us tonight as we hear or tell the Magnificent Story again, as we look for those at the edges and invite them into the center:
Peace. Joy. Amazement. Wonder.
O come, let us adore him!
Sheep herding was not a glamorous profession in Jesus’ time. Shepherds represented the dregs of society, dirty, crude, unkempt, maybe the last group on earth you’d think would be the first to hear of a cataclysmic, world-transforming event. But our God of surprises doesn’t see in those categories. The least likely became the first – does that sound familiar?
And not only the first to hear; this bunch of low-lifes were the recipients of a celestial visit, a host of angels. The highest possible order of being, shining with the glory of the Lord, and rough-hewn riff-raff, brought together on that bright hillside to share joy.
“In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”
Think God was up to something? Think God is still up to something? A group of people of whom no one expected anything good were entrusted with the best news of all – the birth of the Messiah, a savior, the Lord. It became their news to tell, backed up by the most amazing light show ever seen. To be the bearer of news everyone wants to hear – that’s a status upgrade right there.
Of the many messages in this strange tale we tell over and over, here is one: that no one, no kind of person, no category of person is insignificant in God’s eyes. In God’s Life the most marginalized become the center of the story. ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!’
Who is on the margins of your life, or your community’s life? Can you invite someone into the center tonight? Can you honor the least likely person by entrusting her with this amazing news? Maybe you feel like you are the least likely person. Know this: God has chosen you, to share God’s most precious gift. Can we acknowledge that we are that loved and share it with someone else?
For a little while that night, there was peace, there was joy, there was amazement and wonder, shared between shepherds and angels, earth and heaven. I pray that for us tonight as we hear or tell the Magnificent Story again, as we look for those at the edges and invite them into the center:
Peace. Joy. Amazement. Wonder.
O come, let us adore him!
12-23-14 - No Place in the Inn
Have any other two sentences ever given rise to so much drama for so many centuries?
“While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.”
That’s it, all Luke says. But because he mentions an inn with a no-vacancy sign, every Christmas pageant has to include an innkeeper, and every nativity drama a race against the clock by a desperate couple frantically seeking a place to have a baby, who is going to pop out any minute now…
Who knows – maybe Mary and Joseph had been in Bethlehem for awhile before her contractions started. Maybe they camped out somewhere, only needing warmth and shelter when the baby arrived. Maybe the place in the house where the livestock were kept was the warmest, and that’s why they put the infant Jesus in the manger filled with straw when there was no human habitation available.
We know so little, yet we make so much of these few words. Because it’s a great story, all of it. The homeless couple, the smelly shepherds, representing the marginalized of society, the glorious angels, the friendly beasts… and in the midst of all of it, the incarnate son of God. You couldn’t make up a story this good.
Do the details matter? Maybe not – but there’s richness in them. It is significant that Jesus spent his first night on earth in a feed trough in a stable. It reminds us that he did not come to make his home in this world. He did not seek the comforts that keep so many of us holding on to more than we need while others go without. Though the Gospels suggest he lived a regular home-based life once he and his parents settled back in Nazareth after a period of exile in Egypt, after he began his ministry he stayed on the move. “The Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” He almost didn’t have one to start with either.
Jesus is never recorded as leading anyone into a building – he led his followers out, and I believe out of the building is still where most of our church ministry is to be lived. We church folk have got it pretty backward in the 21st century. We’ve imposed onto our churches the assumption that home is where the heart is. It’s not the only place.
I just came from Stamford’s annual Homeless Persons Memorial service, at which we remember those who died homeless in our community in the past year, celebrate those who are moving through shelters into housing, and raise up the work of the agencies that address needs for mental health, addiction recovery, job training and placement, and healthcare as well as shelter and housing.
It reminded me that Jesus spent his first night, maybe several, not at “home,” but camping out in temporary lodging, sharing space with animals, in a city his parents did not call home. What we call homelessness was his first reality. The company of the marginalized was his first community. Maybe we need to pay more honor to the life going on outside our homes. Though there is dysfunction and injustice in it, we don't want to miss the life in people whose lives aren't in a mold we consider normal.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t eliminate homelessness; we should, we must, and God willing we will. I’m suggesting that as we do that we draw nearer to those who find themselves homeless, because in doing so we may just draw closer to Jesus.
“While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.”
That’s it, all Luke says. But because he mentions an inn with a no-vacancy sign, every Christmas pageant has to include an innkeeper, and every nativity drama a race against the clock by a desperate couple frantically seeking a place to have a baby, who is going to pop out any minute now…
Who knows – maybe Mary and Joseph had been in Bethlehem for awhile before her contractions started. Maybe they camped out somewhere, only needing warmth and shelter when the baby arrived. Maybe the place in the house where the livestock were kept was the warmest, and that’s why they put the infant Jesus in the manger filled with straw when there was no human habitation available.
We know so little, yet we make so much of these few words. Because it’s a great story, all of it. The homeless couple, the smelly shepherds, representing the marginalized of society, the glorious angels, the friendly beasts… and in the midst of all of it, the incarnate son of God. You couldn’t make up a story this good.
Do the details matter? Maybe not – but there’s richness in them. It is significant that Jesus spent his first night on earth in a feed trough in a stable. It reminds us that he did not come to make his home in this world. He did not seek the comforts that keep so many of us holding on to more than we need while others go without. Though the Gospels suggest he lived a regular home-based life once he and his parents settled back in Nazareth after a period of exile in Egypt, after he began his ministry he stayed on the move. “The Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” He almost didn’t have one to start with either.
Jesus is never recorded as leading anyone into a building – he led his followers out, and I believe out of the building is still where most of our church ministry is to be lived. We church folk have got it pretty backward in the 21st century. We’ve imposed onto our churches the assumption that home is where the heart is. It’s not the only place.
I just came from Stamford’s annual Homeless Persons Memorial service, at which we remember those who died homeless in our community in the past year, celebrate those who are moving through shelters into housing, and raise up the work of the agencies that address needs for mental health, addiction recovery, job training and placement, and healthcare as well as shelter and housing.
It reminded me that Jesus spent his first night, maybe several, not at “home,” but camping out in temporary lodging, sharing space with animals, in a city his parents did not call home. What we call homelessness was his first reality. The company of the marginalized was his first community. Maybe we need to pay more honor to the life going on outside our homes. Though there is dysfunction and injustice in it, we don't want to miss the life in people whose lives aren't in a mold we consider normal.
I’m not saying we shouldn’t eliminate homelessness; we should, we must, and God willing we will. I’m suggesting that as we do that we draw nearer to those who find themselves homeless, because in doing so we may just draw closer to Jesus.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)