You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
The gospels say little about Jesus’ friendships. We see some of his interactions with disciples, but other than a few exchanges with Peter, those tend to be group encounters. Yet the gospels of Luke and John suggest there is one family with whom Jesus had a particularly close relationship: the two sisters and one brother from Bethany who appear in at least three stories.
Our passage this week begins with an almost comically understated reference to Jesus' connection with this family: Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.
This casual aside about Lazarus – “Oh, you know who I mean, the guy Jesus raised from the dead” is followed by the prosaic, “They gave a dinner for him.” Let's hope they did a lot more than that! We are told that Martha served, which might seem an inconsequential detail were it not for that brief but penetrating vignette in Luke about another time Martha cooked and served dinner for Jesus and got a lesson in priorities. We learn so much about her in that story, and here she is, serving dinner again.
The other sister, Mary, is the main character in this week’s reading, and we’ll introduce her tomorrow. What intrigues me as we begin to explore this short tale is the glimpse it gives us into Jesus’ social life. He had thousands of followers, and some close associates, but his peripatetic life and the increasing danger in which he found himself – John tells us this is six days before the Passover, the final Passover Jesus will celebrate in his worldly life – no doubt made it difficult to form and maintain friendships. This family seems to have been a place of refuge and friendship for him, and his humanity is more vivid seeing him rooted in this web of sibling relationships with distinct personalities.
If we think of Jesus often at the dinner table in that home in Bethany, we might more easily imagine him as a guest at our tables. And I believe that is where he wants to be - invited into our homes and lives, welcome at the table as we eat, on the couch as we relax, accompanying us as we work and exercise and play and recharge and interact with the people in our lives. This story reminds us that Jesus’ love is universal, and also always particular as we receive him.
He came for you, and for me. And as the poet and priest George Herbert so memorably articulated, he expects us to eat with him.
Love (III) - George Herbert (1593-1633)
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back, guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack from my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning, if I lacked any thing.
A guest, I answered, worthy to be here: Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkind, ungrateful? Ah my dear, I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame? My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat: So I did sit and eat.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label redemption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label redemption. Show all posts
9-26-24 - The Great Surgeon
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
It is somewhat ironic to hear the man who healed the maimed, the lame and the blind suggest people put themselves in such states, but here it is, one of the toughest of all of Jesus’ tough teachings: “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.”
It is a challenge to find the Good News in this “Grand Guignol” of Jesus sayings. This is a violent wake-up call to be clear about our priorities, to be realistic about the consequences of sin – and to put God-Life first, no matter what. It is a message short on grace and forgiveness, and in its stark clarity offers a kind of tough love we might recognize from other spheres.
Think, for instance, what we might say to an addict one bender away from losing her life. In such light, this language doesn’t look so harsh. Or an oncologist telling a patient that his only hope is to cut out a tumor, even at the risk of compromising healthy tissue. We wouldn’t think twice. Often we fail to connect sin with such dire consequences in our lives – surely we have time to shape up, ask forgiveness, we think; we can get straightened out tomorrow. One more day of gossip or petty lies or gluttony won’t make that great a difference, right? That’s how we’ve gotten ourselves into our climate crisis.
If we’re willing to take sin seriously without obsessing about it, there are many more gentle measures we can take before it becomes a cancer in our lives, or a will-weakening addiction. We can adopt a practice of regular confession, not so we wallow in our sins, but to shine the light of truth upon ourselves and recognize the often unseen effects of sinful tendencies in us. We can practice forgiving others regularly, so that we don’t let resentment and judgment build up. We can cultivate compassion, which allows us to look past the damage we do or endure, and pray for the wounded person behind the actions.
Are there patterns, habits, even people in your life whom you would do well to cut off, cut out, so that you can live in greater freedom and purpose? Are there parts of yourself that need to be cut away? I was once praying about an over-dependency I had, and got an image of a big, bloody, tuberous tumor in a chest cavity, attached by numerous blood vessels, which I had to let Jesus remove and heal. Yuck – and Alleluia.
We can trust ourselves to the Great Physician, the surgeon who knows how to cut cleanly, the healer who knows how to apply balm to our wounds and restore us to wholeness.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
It is somewhat ironic to hear the man who healed the maimed, the lame and the blind suggest people put themselves in such states, but here it is, one of the toughest of all of Jesus’ tough teachings: “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.”
It is a challenge to find the Good News in this “Grand Guignol” of Jesus sayings. This is a violent wake-up call to be clear about our priorities, to be realistic about the consequences of sin – and to put God-Life first, no matter what. It is a message short on grace and forgiveness, and in its stark clarity offers a kind of tough love we might recognize from other spheres.
Think, for instance, what we might say to an addict one bender away from losing her life. In such light, this language doesn’t look so harsh. Or an oncologist telling a patient that his only hope is to cut out a tumor, even at the risk of compromising healthy tissue. We wouldn’t think twice. Often we fail to connect sin with such dire consequences in our lives – surely we have time to shape up, ask forgiveness, we think; we can get straightened out tomorrow. One more day of gossip or petty lies or gluttony won’t make that great a difference, right? That’s how we’ve gotten ourselves into our climate crisis.
If we’re willing to take sin seriously without obsessing about it, there are many more gentle measures we can take before it becomes a cancer in our lives, or a will-weakening addiction. We can adopt a practice of regular confession, not so we wallow in our sins, but to shine the light of truth upon ourselves and recognize the often unseen effects of sinful tendencies in us. We can practice forgiving others regularly, so that we don’t let resentment and judgment build up. We can cultivate compassion, which allows us to look past the damage we do or endure, and pray for the wounded person behind the actions.
Are there patterns, habits, even people in your life whom you would do well to cut off, cut out, so that you can live in greater freedom and purpose? Are there parts of yourself that need to be cut away? I was once praying about an over-dependency I had, and got an image of a big, bloody, tuberous tumor in a chest cavity, attached by numerous blood vessels, which I had to let Jesus remove and heal. Yuck – and Alleluia.
We can trust ourselves to the Great Physician, the surgeon who knows how to cut cleanly, the healer who knows how to apply balm to our wounds and restore us to wholeness.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-14-22 - Father, Forgive Them...
You can listen to this reflection here.
Next Sunday we celebrate Christ as King before we re-set the church clock and go back to the beginning of the story in Advent. The "Christ the King" readings always show Jesus at his most humble, as befits one who said his kingdom was not of this world. This week's gospel shows him humiliated and degraded, dying a brutal death on a cross. It is an image we associate with Holy Week, not the week before Thanksgiving. Yet, as the bitter divisions in our world become ever deeper, it fits all too well.
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
In our conflicted times, we need to get into the forgiveness business seriously and often. It is not easy; it means forgiving people who may not be sorry, or care about the damage they do. When we reach across barriers of difference, we will have to ask whether we are forgiving prematurely, and risk being seen as condoning the unacceptable.
We were blessed with a relatively smooth Election Day, thanks be to God. Yet the narrow margins separating victory from defeat point to the continued polarization of our body politic. Some who were elected espouse discrimination against women, people of color, immigrants, and LGBTQI and gender-fluid folks, and oppose efforts to combat climate change. Some deny the legitimacy of the 2020 presidential election and support violent insurrection as a political strategy. Forgiveness is costly.
Are people who sow violence and division covered by Jesus’ prayer, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do?” How on earth do we forgive willful cruelty? We start by drawing on the power of Christ available to us. It's hard to associate power with the image of a naked, beaten, helpless man nailed to a cross. Yet that is exactly what Christian belief invites us to do, to see beneath the outward image to the spiritual reality. And that reality Jesus demonstrated in a gesture of incomprehensible generosity: “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing."
He recognized that the Jewish leaders seeking his death and the Roman leaders carrying out the unjust sentence were so caught up in systems of human control, they couldn’t see the larger picture or their own complicity. Having the power to forgive the unforgivable will require us to step out of our human systems as well, even if our intent is to bring justice. How are we also complicit in degrading the "Other?"
Each gospel writer stresses in the story of Jesus’ crucifixion those elements he thinks matter most. Luke, champion of the poor and outcast, who so often highlights Jesus’ compassion, puts this act of forgiveness on the cross front and center. This is the kind of kingship we are to follow – forgiveness for the unforgivable, even at the point of death.
I don’t want to have to practice this, but I believe I’m going to have many opportunities. Maybe I’ll get better at it.
Next Sunday we celebrate Christ as King before we re-set the church clock and go back to the beginning of the story in Advent. The "Christ the King" readings always show Jesus at his most humble, as befits one who said his kingdom was not of this world. This week's gospel shows him humiliated and degraded, dying a brutal death on a cross. It is an image we associate with Holy Week, not the week before Thanksgiving. Yet, as the bitter divisions in our world become ever deeper, it fits all too well.
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
In our conflicted times, we need to get into the forgiveness business seriously and often. It is not easy; it means forgiving people who may not be sorry, or care about the damage they do. When we reach across barriers of difference, we will have to ask whether we are forgiving prematurely, and risk being seen as condoning the unacceptable.
We were blessed with a relatively smooth Election Day, thanks be to God. Yet the narrow margins separating victory from defeat point to the continued polarization of our body politic. Some who were elected espouse discrimination against women, people of color, immigrants, and LGBTQI and gender-fluid folks, and oppose efforts to combat climate change. Some deny the legitimacy of the 2020 presidential election and support violent insurrection as a political strategy. Forgiveness is costly.
Are people who sow violence and division covered by Jesus’ prayer, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do?” How on earth do we forgive willful cruelty? We start by drawing on the power of Christ available to us. It's hard to associate power with the image of a naked, beaten, helpless man nailed to a cross. Yet that is exactly what Christian belief invites us to do, to see beneath the outward image to the spiritual reality. And that reality Jesus demonstrated in a gesture of incomprehensible generosity: “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing."
He recognized that the Jewish leaders seeking his death and the Roman leaders carrying out the unjust sentence were so caught up in systems of human control, they couldn’t see the larger picture or their own complicity. Having the power to forgive the unforgivable will require us to step out of our human systems as well, even if our intent is to bring justice. How are we also complicit in degrading the "Other?"
Each gospel writer stresses in the story of Jesus’ crucifixion those elements he thinks matter most. Luke, champion of the poor and outcast, who so often highlights Jesus’ compassion, puts this act of forgiveness on the cross front and center. This is the kind of kingship we are to follow – forgiveness for the unforgivable, even at the point of death.
I don’t want to have to practice this, but I believe I’m going to have many opportunities. Maybe I’ll get better at it.
3-14-22 - Bringing Life Out of Suffering
You can listen to this reflection here.
If the only impression we got of Jesus came from this week’s Gospel passage, he may not have attracted many followers. When asked about some of the great tragedies of his day, he seems to sweep aside the suffering involved and make of each example a warning to repent:
At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”
Going back to chapter 12, we can see Jesus is already pretty wound up. “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!,” he says. He’s told parables about being ready to give account when the end comes. So maybe he’s not in the mood for philosophizing. When told about what appears to have been a particularly sacrilegious atrocity committed by the Roman governor, he says those Galileans were not singled out for punishment by God – God doesn’t work that way. But he is quick to point out that everyone listening is vulnerable to eternal death unless they repent and choose eternal life in Christ. Similarly with some people who were killed in an accident; they were no worse sinners than anyone else, nor being punished – “but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.” By “perish” Jesus is not talking about physical death, but a spiritual one.
This passage makes it clear that God does not visit suffering upon people, and certainly does not punish through tragedy. God is in the business of life, not death. So we can cite Jesus to those who suggest, when a child dies, that “God wanted another angel,” or “Everything happens for a reason.” It may or it may not. We are to go deeper than the mystery of tragedy and loss. Jesus is saying, “More important than why someone suffers or dies is this: What eternal choice are you going to make? Are you going to repent – i.e., turn from living on your own terms to living on God’s terms, and live? Or are you going to continue to live as though this world is all there is, and ultimately perish?
Atrocities and horrible accidents will likely shadow us this side of glory; our news feeds are full of them. Most often they are the results of humans exercising free will, even natural disasters brought about by climate change. We can invite those making harmful choices to repent, and acknowledge our own complicity when needed.
More importantly, each time we encounter suffering, we have an opportunity to proclaim God’s goodness in the face of it, and invite people to choose life over death. God does not promise protection from harm. God promises a Life that goes beyond life into infinity, a Life in God’s presence, a Life that begins in the here and now and continues long after we have ceased to draw breath. As we live more deeply into that Life, we have more to offer in the face of tragedy.
I once saw a Salvation Army ad depicting relief workers in the aftermath of a hurricane. The caption read: “We meet natural disasters with acts of God.” That's how we can bring life into suffering.
If the only impression we got of Jesus came from this week’s Gospel passage, he may not have attracted many followers. When asked about some of the great tragedies of his day, he seems to sweep aside the suffering involved and make of each example a warning to repent:
At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”
Going back to chapter 12, we can see Jesus is already pretty wound up. “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!,” he says. He’s told parables about being ready to give account when the end comes. So maybe he’s not in the mood for philosophizing. When told about what appears to have been a particularly sacrilegious atrocity committed by the Roman governor, he says those Galileans were not singled out for punishment by God – God doesn’t work that way. But he is quick to point out that everyone listening is vulnerable to eternal death unless they repent and choose eternal life in Christ. Similarly with some people who were killed in an accident; they were no worse sinners than anyone else, nor being punished – “but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.” By “perish” Jesus is not talking about physical death, but a spiritual one.
This passage makes it clear that God does not visit suffering upon people, and certainly does not punish through tragedy. God is in the business of life, not death. So we can cite Jesus to those who suggest, when a child dies, that “God wanted another angel,” or “Everything happens for a reason.” It may or it may not. We are to go deeper than the mystery of tragedy and loss. Jesus is saying, “More important than why someone suffers or dies is this: What eternal choice are you going to make? Are you going to repent – i.e., turn from living on your own terms to living on God’s terms, and live? Or are you going to continue to live as though this world is all there is, and ultimately perish?
Atrocities and horrible accidents will likely shadow us this side of glory; our news feeds are full of them. Most often they are the results of humans exercising free will, even natural disasters brought about by climate change. We can invite those making harmful choices to repent, and acknowledge our own complicity when needed.
More importantly, each time we encounter suffering, we have an opportunity to proclaim God’s goodness in the face of it, and invite people to choose life over death. God does not promise protection from harm. God promises a Life that goes beyond life into infinity, a Life in God’s presence, a Life that begins in the here and now and continues long after we have ceased to draw breath. As we live more deeply into that Life, we have more to offer in the face of tragedy.
I once saw a Salvation Army ad depicting relief workers in the aftermath of a hurricane. The caption read: “We meet natural disasters with acts of God.” That's how we can bring life into suffering.
9-8-21- Suffering
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Does God want us to suffer? There is a strand in the Christian tradition that looks at the suffering Jesus underwent – which he predicted – and suggests that it is in suffering that we draw closest to our Lord. This is not how Peter saw things:
Then Jesus began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.
Just before this, Peter has identified Jesus as the Messiah, the Anointed One of God long foretold, who would come to redeem the people of Israel – redeem, as in buy back a pawned item so it can be restored to its true purpose. It was assumed that the Messiah would bring to an end the suffering and humiliation of God’s chosen people. What good is a Messiah who’s going to suffer and die?
Jesus is firm:
Does God want us to suffer? There is a strand in the Christian tradition that looks at the suffering Jesus underwent – which he predicted – and suggests that it is in suffering that we draw closest to our Lord. This is not how Peter saw things:
Then Jesus began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.
Just before this, Peter has identified Jesus as the Messiah, the Anointed One of God long foretold, who would come to redeem the people of Israel – redeem, as in buy back a pawned item so it can be restored to its true purpose. It was assumed that the Messiah would bring to an end the suffering and humiliation of God’s chosen people. What good is a Messiah who’s going to suffer and die?
Jesus is firm:
But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."
Does Jesus, invoking Satan, see in Peter’s words a temptation, a temptation to veer from the mission he is living out, a temptation to doubt his discernment of what is ahead for him? In Jesus’ case, suffering was part of his mission; redeeming humanity would involve a humiliating and horrible death.
That is not necessarily true for us. The ways in which God might invite us to make God-Life known in the world may not include suffering in any obvious way. We may be called to write or feed or proclaim or organize and never be persecuted for our faith. But there will be pain, if we’re open to letting our hearts be broken by God’s love for this world. In that sense, every mission involves suffering.
God does not inflict suffering upon us, though our God of free will does allow it to happen. Our God who is Love will always be with us in it, and our God who is Life can bring transformation through it. Sometimes I wonder how that message falls on the ears of those in the throes of pain and suffering. Am I convincing when I proclaim that God is with us in our suffering, even as God often allows it to unfold in our lives, and that God can work redemption through it? I may doubt myself, but every time I ask a person whom I visit in a pastoral capacity if they feel the presence of God with them, the answer is usually an unequivocal yes.
It is through the presence of Christ with us that we gain the Life that overcomes death, the Life we can share with others, no matter what our condition. God does not visit suffering upon us so we can draw near to Christ. Yet I believe with all my heart that Christ draws near to us as we suffer, and helps break us open so new life can emerge from the dark earth.
The Wednesday Bible Study resumes tonight with the Letter of James: September 8, 7-8 pm EDT on Zoom. Link is here. Feel free to join in any time you can.
Does Jesus, invoking Satan, see in Peter’s words a temptation, a temptation to veer from the mission he is living out, a temptation to doubt his discernment of what is ahead for him? In Jesus’ case, suffering was part of his mission; redeeming humanity would involve a humiliating and horrible death.
That is not necessarily true for us. The ways in which God might invite us to make God-Life known in the world may not include suffering in any obvious way. We may be called to write or feed or proclaim or organize and never be persecuted for our faith. But there will be pain, if we’re open to letting our hearts be broken by God’s love for this world. In that sense, every mission involves suffering.
God does not inflict suffering upon us, though our God of free will does allow it to happen. Our God who is Love will always be with us in it, and our God who is Life can bring transformation through it. Sometimes I wonder how that message falls on the ears of those in the throes of pain and suffering. Am I convincing when I proclaim that God is with us in our suffering, even as God often allows it to unfold in our lives, and that God can work redemption through it? I may doubt myself, but every time I ask a person whom I visit in a pastoral capacity if they feel the presence of God with them, the answer is usually an unequivocal yes.
It is through the presence of Christ with us that we gain the Life that overcomes death, the Life we can share with others, no matter what our condition. God does not visit suffering upon us so we can draw near to Christ. Yet I believe with all my heart that Christ draws near to us as we suffer, and helps break us open so new life can emerge from the dark earth.
The Wednesday Bible Study resumes tonight with the Letter of James: September 8, 7-8 pm EDT on Zoom. Link is here. Feel free to join in any time you can.
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