You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
When we are faced with doing something difficult, it can help to remind ourselves what good will come of it. That’s what gets me to exercise and keeps me eating healthfully most of the time. But those are pretty superficial examples.
How about a parent who works a couple of jobs to ensure college money for her children? That outcome is a long way off, yet worth the sacrifice. Or “altruistic organ donors” like a Connecticut woman who offered a kidney to anyone who was a match, kicking off a round robin of surgeries in which four couples who were not matches for each other donated kidneys to other’s spouses, resulting in four kidney transplants and eight surgeries in one day.
In this gospel passage, we see Jesus confront his upcoming passion and death, and remind himself why he had so much pain and loss ahead. “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”
In the natural world, whether in our gardens or our bodies, there is no growth without death. New skin grows as old cells die and are sloughed off. Chicks hatch only by breaking their eggs. A baby’s birth wreaks trauma on the mother’s body. Butterflies must demolish their cocoons to get free. And yes, seeds bear fruit only as they are buried in dark earth and broken open so that the new life within can come to fullness.
That is our calling as followers of Christ – to follow him into the dark, allow ourselves to be broken and transformed from a seed into a seedling, and then a plant that bears abundant fruit. That’s pretty much the trajectory of a disciple. Every ounce of energy we spend clinging to what we have, what we love, what we can see, is energy not spent allowing ourselves to be planted, broken, transformed and flourishing. "Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life."
This is also our calling as the Body of Christ, our calling as congregations: to allow ourselves to be broken open, inconveniently, sometimes painfully; our patterns and presuppositions challenged and changed, so that we can bring life and fruit to hungry people around us.
Where are you discerning a call to be like a seed that is planted, broken, transformed and made fruitful? Where are you on that cycle? It’s one we repeat more than once in our lives… sometimes more than once in a week! It can help to remember that we are following Jesus into that dark earth, that he is with us in the seed process. As he said, “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.”
We not only follow him into the dark earth. We live in the promise that, like him, we have emerged into new Life, that Life which never ends. Do all seeds know the glorious outcome of their process? If we must cling to anything, let it be that promise, this Life we have already begun to live.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts
4-4-23 - Andrew of Capernaum
This week we will look at the gospel reading appointed for each day and reflect from the perspective of one the people on the fringes of the story. We too are on the fringes of this story – and we are invited to come into its heart this week. May these holy men and women draw us closer. Today's gospel is John 12:20-26.
You can listen to this reflection here.
Andrew of Capernaum: Wow – this movement of ours is really growing! Philip just came over and told me some Greeks wanted to meet Jesus – they’d heard of him! They’re in town for Passover, and they want to meet Jesus! Our Jesus. I was really excited to go tell him.
But he didn’t seem thrilled – he just got really quiet. He said, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified” – but where you’d think “glorified” was a good thing, he seemed to dread it. And then this cryptic thing about grains of wheat falling into the earth and dying…
We’re all worried about him. And about ourselves – if they arrest him, will they take us too? I can tell my brother Simon is nervous – just makes him more blustery and “Let ’em come for me.” After the thing with Lazarus the rumors got more intense – those leaders at the temple don’t want Jesus getting this kind of attention. And maybe they’re afraid of his power. Because no one has ever seen anything like his power – bringing someone four days dead back to life? Who does that?
“The hour,” he said. Has everything we’ve been doing with him for three years been leading up to one moment? Is something going to happen that will change everything? I thought we’d just keep going as we have been, traveling around with him, preaching and healing, proclaiming freedom and forgiveness, gaining followers. Is this all about more than gaining followers? Is God up to something even bigger? Is that what Jesus means by the seed – “If it dies, it bears much fruit?”
I don’t want to die. And I don’t want him to die! I love that man; I’d give my life for him. I don’t want him to give his life for me… But that’s what he said: “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” What did he mean? Will he be broken open, like a seed? Will I? Am I ready to be broken open?
How about us? Are we willing to let some of our dreams and demands die and fall into the earth like seeds, so they might be transformed into fruit-bearing God dreams? Are we willing to become more fruitful with God?
Let's walk closely with Jesus this week, allowing him to be real in our lives - not the suffering crucified one, but the risen Lord of heaven and earth, bearing abundant fruit through us.
You are welcome to join my congregations for online worship this evening - here is the link. Our Holy Week line-up of services, many online or hybrid, is here.
You can listen to this reflection here.
Andrew of Capernaum: Wow – this movement of ours is really growing! Philip just came over and told me some Greeks wanted to meet Jesus – they’d heard of him! They’re in town for Passover, and they want to meet Jesus! Our Jesus. I was really excited to go tell him.
But he didn’t seem thrilled – he just got really quiet. He said, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified” – but where you’d think “glorified” was a good thing, he seemed to dread it. And then this cryptic thing about grains of wheat falling into the earth and dying…
We’re all worried about him. And about ourselves – if they arrest him, will they take us too? I can tell my brother Simon is nervous – just makes him more blustery and “Let ’em come for me.” After the thing with Lazarus the rumors got more intense – those leaders at the temple don’t want Jesus getting this kind of attention. And maybe they’re afraid of his power. Because no one has ever seen anything like his power – bringing someone four days dead back to life? Who does that?
“The hour,” he said. Has everything we’ve been doing with him for three years been leading up to one moment? Is something going to happen that will change everything? I thought we’d just keep going as we have been, traveling around with him, preaching and healing, proclaiming freedom and forgiveness, gaining followers. Is this all about more than gaining followers? Is God up to something even bigger? Is that what Jesus means by the seed – “If it dies, it bears much fruit?”
I don’t want to die. And I don’t want him to die! I love that man; I’d give my life for him. I don’t want him to give his life for me… But that’s what he said: “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” What did he mean? Will he be broken open, like a seed? Will I? Am I ready to be broken open?
How about us? Are we willing to let some of our dreams and demands die and fall into the earth like seeds, so they might be transformed into fruit-bearing God dreams? Are we willing to become more fruitful with God?
Let's walk closely with Jesus this week, allowing him to be real in our lives - not the suffering crucified one, but the risen Lord of heaven and earth, bearing abundant fruit through us.
You are welcome to join my congregations for online worship this evening - here is the link. Our Holy Week line-up of services, many online or hybrid, is here.
4-12-22 - Tuesday in Holy Week: Philip
Each day this week we will use the gospel appointed for the day, and hear from one of the main characters in the story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus.
You can listen to this reflection here.
Philip of Bethsaida: People always wanted to see Jesus; what was so different about these Greeks, that their seeking him out should cause him such sadness?
I wasn’t even sure I should bother him when they approached me. I mean, a LOT of people wanted to see Jesus – not all of them friendly – and he seemed tense and tired. So I checked in with Andrew, who's closer to the inner circle than I. We went together to Jesus. His response surprised me. “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified,” he said. I wasn’t sure what that meant but he just looked resigned, and added, “I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”
I couldn't pretend not to know what he was talking about – the rumors of plots against him have been flying for weeks now. It got a lot worse after Lazarus. The religious leaders are not happy with Jesus’ popularity, or his miracles. And now even Greeks in Jerusalem for Passover want to see him? This will not be good.
Or is it “good” in a much bigger picture? Jesus keeps hinting at a mission broader than we can imagine, that God is up to something huge. Is that what he means by “fruit?” Could something good come from the death of one so amazing as Jesus? Whom I, we, believe to be the Anointed One, the Messiah himself? What kind of fruit might he bear if he dies?
Is he talking about us too? Are we all called to be grains of wheat, broken open so the life of God can break out?
“Whoever serves me must follow me,” he said. “And where I am, there will my servant be also.” Well, I am his servant. I can think of no greater purpose for my life than to serve Jesus. I will stay as close to him this week as I can, and hope against hope he’s just speaking in metaphors…
How about us? Are we willing to stay close to Jesus this week? What do you find most unsettling about the whole story of Holy Week? Is there a part you routinely want to avoid? Why do you suppose that is?
I pray that we might walk closely with Jesus this week, allowing him to be real in our lives - not the suffering crucified one, but the risen Lord of heaven and earth, bearing abundant fruit through us.
You are welcome to join me tonight at 7 pm EDT for an online service for Tuesday in Holy Week - link is here. Our Holy Week schedule of services, most of which can be accessed online, is here.
You can listen to this reflection here.
Philip of Bethsaida: People always wanted to see Jesus; what was so different about these Greeks, that their seeking him out should cause him such sadness?
I wasn’t even sure I should bother him when they approached me. I mean, a LOT of people wanted to see Jesus – not all of them friendly – and he seemed tense and tired. So I checked in with Andrew, who's closer to the inner circle than I. We went together to Jesus. His response surprised me. “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified,” he said. I wasn’t sure what that meant but he just looked resigned, and added, “I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”
I couldn't pretend not to know what he was talking about – the rumors of plots against him have been flying for weeks now. It got a lot worse after Lazarus. The religious leaders are not happy with Jesus’ popularity, or his miracles. And now even Greeks in Jerusalem for Passover want to see him? This will not be good.
Or is it “good” in a much bigger picture? Jesus keeps hinting at a mission broader than we can imagine, that God is up to something huge. Is that what he means by “fruit?” Could something good come from the death of one so amazing as Jesus? Whom I, we, believe to be the Anointed One, the Messiah himself? What kind of fruit might he bear if he dies?
Is he talking about us too? Are we all called to be grains of wheat, broken open so the life of God can break out?
“Whoever serves me must follow me,” he said. “And where I am, there will my servant be also.” Well, I am his servant. I can think of no greater purpose for my life than to serve Jesus. I will stay as close to him this week as I can, and hope against hope he’s just speaking in metaphors…
How about us? Are we willing to stay close to Jesus this week? What do you find most unsettling about the whole story of Holy Week? Is there a part you routinely want to avoid? Why do you suppose that is?
I pray that we might walk closely with Jesus this week, allowing him to be real in our lives - not the suffering crucified one, but the risen Lord of heaven and earth, bearing abundant fruit through us.
You are welcome to join me tonight at 7 pm EDT for an online service for Tuesday in Holy Week - link is here. Our Holy Week schedule of services, most of which can be accessed online, is here.
3-30-22 - What a Waste
You can listen to this reflection here.
I am not a fan of the hugely generous gesture, someone sacrificing everything to help someone else, or to serve God. I probably would have told St. Francis of Assisi, “Why don’t you leave most of it behind? Why all of it? Don’t you want a little insurance?” Everything in moderation, right? Even sacrificial giving.
So I’m not in particularly nice company this week – for the person in our story who articulates this more pragmatic way of thinking about resources is none other than Judas: But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?”
In an aside John tells us that Judas didn’t actually care about the poor, but wanted to steal the offering for himself. How about we give him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he actually did care about the poor, actually did care about the radical equality that Jesus was preaching, actually did want to see the revolution come to pass. To someone with economic justice on his mind, Mary’s extravagant gesture could seem an unconscionable waste of resources. Three hundred denarii’s worth of high-priced perfumed oil on one person’s feet? Stinking up the whole house?
It is outrageous, when you think about it as stewardship. It makes no sense. About as much sense as it made for God to offer up that One who was most precious to him, his only begotten Son. About as much sense as it made for that Son to take upon himself the catastrophic estrangement which was our due as those who rebelled against God; to give up his position, his dignity, his life.
One grey and rainy Good Friday I found myself in New York City’s Union Square after the three-hour preaching of the Cross at Grace Church. Everything was dingy and dirty; everybody looked harried and downcast, me included. And I thought, “For this? You gave it all for this miserable lot? What a waste.”
Yes, what a waste; what ridiculous extravagance, to kill the Son of God so that we might be free dwell in love with God for all eternity. As that beautiful hymn, My Song is Love Unknown, says, “Love to the loveless shown, that they might lovely be. Oh, who am I, that for my sake, my Lord should take frail flesh and die?”
Becoming a person who can offer it all starts with our willingness to accept that Christ has given it all for us; to accept that we are that precious to God, that God finds us worthy because God said so, not because of anything we think or do or say. Perhaps today we might meditate on that extravagant, profligate, wasteful, over-the-top love lavished upon us, try to let it soak into our bones, into our spirits, into all the dents the world’s “no’s” have left in us.
You are loved, beyond measure, beyond sense. Deal with it!
I am not a fan of the hugely generous gesture, someone sacrificing everything to help someone else, or to serve God. I probably would have told St. Francis of Assisi, “Why don’t you leave most of it behind? Why all of it? Don’t you want a little insurance?” Everything in moderation, right? Even sacrificial giving.
So I’m not in particularly nice company this week – for the person in our story who articulates this more pragmatic way of thinking about resources is none other than Judas: But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?”
In an aside John tells us that Judas didn’t actually care about the poor, but wanted to steal the offering for himself. How about we give him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe he actually did care about the poor, actually did care about the radical equality that Jesus was preaching, actually did want to see the revolution come to pass. To someone with economic justice on his mind, Mary’s extravagant gesture could seem an unconscionable waste of resources. Three hundred denarii’s worth of high-priced perfumed oil on one person’s feet? Stinking up the whole house?
It is outrageous, when you think about it as stewardship. It makes no sense. About as much sense as it made for God to offer up that One who was most precious to him, his only begotten Son. About as much sense as it made for that Son to take upon himself the catastrophic estrangement which was our due as those who rebelled against God; to give up his position, his dignity, his life.
One grey and rainy Good Friday I found myself in New York City’s Union Square after the three-hour preaching of the Cross at Grace Church. Everything was dingy and dirty; everybody looked harried and downcast, me included. And I thought, “For this? You gave it all for this miserable lot? What a waste.”
Yes, what a waste; what ridiculous extravagance, to kill the Son of God so that we might be free dwell in love with God for all eternity. As that beautiful hymn, My Song is Love Unknown, says, “Love to the loveless shown, that they might lovely be. Oh, who am I, that for my sake, my Lord should take frail flesh and die?”
Becoming a person who can offer it all starts with our willingness to accept that Christ has given it all for us; to accept that we are that precious to God, that God finds us worthy because God said so, not because of anything we think or do or say. Perhaps today we might meditate on that extravagant, profligate, wasteful, over-the-top love lavished upon us, try to let it soak into our bones, into our spirits, into all the dents the world’s “no’s” have left in us.
You are loved, beyond measure, beyond sense. Deal with it!
11-15-21 - Powerlessness
You can listen to this reflection here.
Oh friends, if we wanted to hide from the pain of the world in the embrace of our religious texts, we would be sorely disappointed, especially this week. For we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a political fight with religious undercurrents – sound familiar? Within a day of the interview at the center of this Sunday’s gospel story, a man revered by thousands will be dead, brutally killed at the hands of the secular ruler, under urging from the man’s own religious leaders. His followers will have scattered, hiding in terror of being arrested themselves.
We can’t get away from blood, power and violence in our Christian story. That intersection is exactly where God’s incarnate Son landed as his mission in this world culminated in his humiliation and execution. But the governor who ordered his death did not want to see him die. He questioned his prisoner closely, hoping to find a loophole that would allow him to save Jesus. Jesus did not make it easy:
Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me.”
This week we wrap up our liturgical year before resetting the clock on the first Sunday of Advent. On this final Sunday in “ordinary time,” we celebrate Christ as King. But the only images the Gospels give us of Christ as king show him as a helpless child, honored by magi; humbled, riding on a donkey; powerless, under arrest and trial; or nailed to a cross. Vulnerable, humble and powerless – is that what kingship looks like for Christ-followers?
I cannot but think of the seventeen missionaries kidnapped in Haiti nearly a month ago, or the many incidences of brutality some Christians around the world suffer for their faith. Persecution is not unique to Christians, of course – in fact, worldwide, Christians have it better than members of other religious traditions, and in our country people of Muslim, Sikh and Hindu traditions are more apt to be targeted. Yet risk and sacrifice are part of the package if we desire to follow the One who went to the Cross for us. Vulnerability and humility and service can look an awful lot like powerlessness.
The Way of Jesus was to prevail through humility and powerlessness in the temporal realm. The power he exerted was spiritual – a force so strong it could raise the dead, but not discernible to those who refused to see it.
Can we be bold enough to wield that power, given to us through his Holy Spirit? Can we dare to stand against hatred with love, against violence with generosity? That’s what Jesus did – he stood calm in the face of the man who had the power to end his life, and spoke nothing but truth. He walked into death itself and rendered it impotent. That’s how you respond to evil.
God, give us the grace to comfort, to seek justice, to forgive – and to wield love in the power of Christ.
Oh friends, if we wanted to hide from the pain of the world in the embrace of our religious texts, we would be sorely disappointed, especially this week. For we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a political fight with religious undercurrents – sound familiar? Within a day of the interview at the center of this Sunday’s gospel story, a man revered by thousands will be dead, brutally killed at the hands of the secular ruler, under urging from the man’s own religious leaders. His followers will have scattered, hiding in terror of being arrested themselves.
We can’t get away from blood, power and violence in our Christian story. That intersection is exactly where God’s incarnate Son landed as his mission in this world culminated in his humiliation and execution. But the governor who ordered his death did not want to see him die. He questioned his prisoner closely, hoping to find a loophole that would allow him to save Jesus. Jesus did not make it easy:
Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” Pilate replied, “I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me.”
This week we wrap up our liturgical year before resetting the clock on the first Sunday of Advent. On this final Sunday in “ordinary time,” we celebrate Christ as King. But the only images the Gospels give us of Christ as king show him as a helpless child, honored by magi; humbled, riding on a donkey; powerless, under arrest and trial; or nailed to a cross. Vulnerable, humble and powerless – is that what kingship looks like for Christ-followers?
I cannot but think of the seventeen missionaries kidnapped in Haiti nearly a month ago, or the many incidences of brutality some Christians around the world suffer for their faith. Persecution is not unique to Christians, of course – in fact, worldwide, Christians have it better than members of other religious traditions, and in our country people of Muslim, Sikh and Hindu traditions are more apt to be targeted. Yet risk and sacrifice are part of the package if we desire to follow the One who went to the Cross for us. Vulnerability and humility and service can look an awful lot like powerlessness.
The Way of Jesus was to prevail through humility and powerlessness in the temporal realm. The power he exerted was spiritual – a force so strong it could raise the dead, but not discernible to those who refused to see it.
Can we be bold enough to wield that power, given to us through his Holy Spirit? Can we dare to stand against hatred with love, against violence with generosity? That’s what Jesus did – he stood calm in the face of the man who had the power to end his life, and spoke nothing but truth. He walked into death itself and rendered it impotent. That’s how you respond to evil.
God, give us the grace to comfort, to seek justice, to forgive – and to wield love in the power of Christ.
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