Sunday’s gospel passage is really several different teachings put together – or it reads that way. How otherwise to account for the abrupt change in mood from Jesus’ conversation with his disciples about how to respond to people outside the faith community to his stern warning against blocking children – and maybe also the poor and powerless – from believing in him:
“If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea.”
By “these little ones” he didn’t necessarily mean children. He may well have been referring to simple folk, plain, uneducated, unimportant in the eyes of society’s leaders. And who would dream of putting “stumbling blocks” in the way of such people? Not, we hope, his disciples, though more than once we see them trying to hush beggars or lepers calling out for Jesus.
He may have been targeting the religious leaders, Pharisees and scribes, whom he so often accused of laying burdens on people, making them feel they could never measure up to the demands of the law, forgetting the breadth of God’s mercy. Any insistence of the “right way” to believe, to act, to think, to worship can serve as a stumbling block to someone who has not been raised that way, or has another way of celebrating the love of God.
Are we snared here? Are there people whose spiritual progress toward Christ we impede? Maybe not impede – but how about don’t facilitate? Do we celebrate people’s belief in Christ wherever we find it, even if the packaging is different than ours? Do we make sure we are not creating barriers in the way we organize ourselves or worship? Are we out there creating easy on-ramps to faith by being open about our faith in Christ and the Good News?
There are people with a simple and natural faith in Jesus. I’m sure you can think of a few if you try. We need ask nothing of them but that they show us how to love our Lord so simply and so fully, for sometimes in our complexity we create stumbling blocks for ourselves.
9-22-15 - Cups of Water
Papal mania is sweeping the country. Pope Francis is coming! Pope Francis is coming! And these breathless notices filling my inbox come not only from church-affiliated organizations. They’re being sent by interfaith groups and environmental coalitions and anti-poverty activists and human rights workers. Everyone (except maybe the Koch brothers…) is excited about Pope Francis’ visit. He will speak the truth about what matters – financial inequities, environmental destruction, intolerance, war-mongering, all of it. And people will hear it, and all that is wrong will be put right.
It is gratifying to see a Christian leader generating such excitement from such a wide range of people. In his humility and authenticity and commitment to the Gospel that Jesus actually preached, Francis can do much to restore the tarnished image of Christianity. I see in the outpouring of welcome for him a shade of what Jesus said to his disciples after they complained that someone outside their group was attempting to work miracles in his name:
“Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.”
Many churches feel increasingly isolated from their communities as efforts to attract people to worship services are met with so little success. And it is true that what institutional religion is selling does not seem to be of great interest to many in today’s Western societies. Where churches can expand is by inviting people to join them in works of service. That is a most natural way to share faith, working alongside people who are not part of our congregations, making space for them to bring “cups of water” to us and those with whom we work to address needs and change structures. From inviting people to help us serve meals in soup kitchens to promoting my bishop's online course on gun violence prevention, there are many access points that might appeal to the un- or de-churched.
What works of service or advocacy are you involved in? Who from beyond your congregation might you invite to join you? How might you lift up the gifts of such people, making them full partners in your work? How might you communicate that your commitment to this work is rooted in your relationship with Christ, that you work in his name?
Put another way: Who around us is offering us cups of water because we bear the name of Christ, affirming our work and our commitments? By all means, let’s take the water and drink it, and build on the friendship from there. We know a little something about the water of life.
It is gratifying to see a Christian leader generating such excitement from such a wide range of people. In his humility and authenticity and commitment to the Gospel that Jesus actually preached, Francis can do much to restore the tarnished image of Christianity. I see in the outpouring of welcome for him a shade of what Jesus said to his disciples after they complained that someone outside their group was attempting to work miracles in his name:
“Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.”
Many churches feel increasingly isolated from their communities as efforts to attract people to worship services are met with so little success. And it is true that what institutional religion is selling does not seem to be of great interest to many in today’s Western societies. Where churches can expand is by inviting people to join them in works of service. That is a most natural way to share faith, working alongside people who are not part of our congregations, making space for them to bring “cups of water” to us and those with whom we work to address needs and change structures. From inviting people to help us serve meals in soup kitchens to promoting my bishop's online course on gun violence prevention, there are many access points that might appeal to the un- or de-churched.
What works of service or advocacy are you involved in? Who from beyond your congregation might you invite to join you? How might you lift up the gifts of such people, making them full partners in your work? How might you communicate that your commitment to this work is rooted in your relationship with Christ, that you work in his name?
Put another way: Who around us is offering us cups of water because we bear the name of Christ, affirming our work and our commitments? By all means, let’s take the water and drink it, and build on the friendship from there. We know a little something about the water of life.
9-21-15 - The Interfaith Gospel?
As you may know, I lead the Interfaith Council of Southwestern Connecticut; to some, I am the face of interfaith in the area. Which is pretty funny, because this is my first involvement in interfaith work. I always thought it was valid, but “not my thing.” I was more interested in helping Christians become more connected to Christ, and much more aware of what he actually taught and did.
But often I find that people of other faiths more clearly recognize the power of Jesus, and live according to the values of the Kingdom, even if they don’t acknowledge him as the Son of God. Evidently this is not a new phenomenon:
John said to Jesus, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” But Jesus said, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. (Here is this week's Gospel passage.)
That’s a far cry from “whoever is not for us is against us,” which is the kind of rhetoric you hear from those who claim that “Christianity is under attack in this country." Jesus makes a a radically open statement here – that those who honor him, even if they have not made the choice (or been offered the choice…) to follow him as Lord, are to be honored as allies and co-laborers.
I have a Muslim friend with a powerful ministry of healing prayer. That was a challenge to me – I think of Christ as the one who heals. And maybe He is healing through the prayers of this very faithful, very humble, very devout Muslim! I have a Jewish friend who loves to worship Jesus. I have Sikh friends steeped in peaceful anti-violence work, and Baha’I friends who offer hospitality beyond measure. In a time when highly visible Christians in our country – many of them running for President – are vocally supporting hatred, racism, discrimination, violence, xenophobia and a bias against the poor, we need to look beyond labels to words and actions.
I am not saying there is no distinction between religious traditions – I don’t subscribe to the “all religions are the same” view. As a committed follower of Christ, I believe he is Lord, Messiah, Redeemer, the Way, the Truth and the Life, and I seek to introduce people in my life to this Lord who is the source of peace, power, presence and purpose for me. What I am saying is that there is goodness and love in many of the world’s religious traditions – and that perhaps God is bigger than the categories in which we try to contain him. Big enough even to work through people who don’t know Jesus as Lord, but work in his name.
Who do you know like that? How can you support their work? If people are to see something of value in the Way of following Christ, it’ll be because we park our judgmentalism and start celebrating love wherever we find it.
But often I find that people of other faiths more clearly recognize the power of Jesus, and live according to the values of the Kingdom, even if they don’t acknowledge him as the Son of God. Evidently this is not a new phenomenon:
John said to Jesus, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” But Jesus said, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. (Here is this week's Gospel passage.)
That’s a far cry from “whoever is not for us is against us,” which is the kind of rhetoric you hear from those who claim that “Christianity is under attack in this country." Jesus makes a a radically open statement here – that those who honor him, even if they have not made the choice (or been offered the choice…) to follow him as Lord, are to be honored as allies and co-laborers.
I have a Muslim friend with a powerful ministry of healing prayer. That was a challenge to me – I think of Christ as the one who heals. And maybe He is healing through the prayers of this very faithful, very humble, very devout Muslim! I have a Jewish friend who loves to worship Jesus. I have Sikh friends steeped in peaceful anti-violence work, and Baha’I friends who offer hospitality beyond measure. In a time when highly visible Christians in our country – many of them running for President – are vocally supporting hatred, racism, discrimination, violence, xenophobia and a bias against the poor, we need to look beyond labels to words and actions.
I am not saying there is no distinction between religious traditions – I don’t subscribe to the “all religions are the same” view. As a committed follower of Christ, I believe he is Lord, Messiah, Redeemer, the Way, the Truth and the Life, and I seek to introduce people in my life to this Lord who is the source of peace, power, presence and purpose for me. What I am saying is that there is goodness and love in many of the world’s religious traditions – and that perhaps God is bigger than the categories in which we try to contain him. Big enough even to work through people who don’t know Jesus as Lord, but work in his name.
Who do you know like that? How can you support their work? If people are to see something of value in the Way of following Christ, it’ll be because we park our judgmentalism and start celebrating love wherever we find it.
9-18-15 - Welcoming God
More than once, Jesus tells his disciples that how they treat the vulnerable directly affects their relationship to him. In Matthew 25, it’s the hungry, naked, sick, imprisoned and the stranger. In our passage this week, it is the child, the child who has nothing obvious to offer, who is raw potential.
What does it mean to welcome God in a child? It means to welcome joy and wonder, unpredictability, rule-breaking – or rule reinterpreting. It means to welcome the instinctual along with the intellectual, the emotional in concert with the organizational. I think it means to welcome the whole person, mind, body and spirit, just as they are, not yet fully formed but worthy of representing God.
What does it mean to welcome God in the vulnerable and marginalized? It goes way beyond meeting their needs. That’s too low a bar for Christ-followers. It means engaging them as full persons, as equals, according them the same dignity as we would God, or a person we consider important. It means seeking out their gifts and assets and making space for them to give to us. It means risking vulnerability ourselves by entering into relationship, not the uneven power relationship of giver to recipient, but a relationship of equals, strangers who might become friends.
The disciples thought God was best represented by the one who could be considered greatest among them, so they engaged in what we would crudely call a “pissing contest” to determine who that might be. Wrong, wrong, wrong, says Jesus. The one who might be considered greatest is the one who is willing to be the most vulnerable.
Probably the best known example of that in our day is Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who said she saw Christ in the lepers and outcasts whom she nursed and loved. Lepers and outcasts come in all shapes and sizes – some even have sizable bank accounts. It isn’t for us to determine worthiness. We just need to decide we want to be about the ministry of welcoming God.
What would it feel like if we went through our days not looking for God so much as looking to see where we might welcome God into our lives? “Who will God show up in today?” is a question we might ask each morning. “In whom did I welcome God?” we could ask at the close of day.
I tell you, to even ask that question will open us up. And then we are likely to be one through whom God is revealed to another. And then we’ll know what it’s like to be welcomed in Jesus’ name.
What does it mean to welcome God in a child? It means to welcome joy and wonder, unpredictability, rule-breaking – or rule reinterpreting. It means to welcome the instinctual along with the intellectual, the emotional in concert with the organizational. I think it means to welcome the whole person, mind, body and spirit, just as they are, not yet fully formed but worthy of representing God.
What does it mean to welcome God in the vulnerable and marginalized? It goes way beyond meeting their needs. That’s too low a bar for Christ-followers. It means engaging them as full persons, as equals, according them the same dignity as we would God, or a person we consider important. It means seeking out their gifts and assets and making space for them to give to us. It means risking vulnerability ourselves by entering into relationship, not the uneven power relationship of giver to recipient, but a relationship of equals, strangers who might become friends.
The disciples thought God was best represented by the one who could be considered greatest among them, so they engaged in what we would crudely call a “pissing contest” to determine who that might be. Wrong, wrong, wrong, says Jesus. The one who might be considered greatest is the one who is willing to be the most vulnerable.
Probably the best known example of that in our day is Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who said she saw Christ in the lepers and outcasts whom she nursed and loved. Lepers and outcasts come in all shapes and sizes – some even have sizable bank accounts. It isn’t for us to determine worthiness. We just need to decide we want to be about the ministry of welcoming God.
What would it feel like if we went through our days not looking for God so much as looking to see where we might welcome God into our lives? “Who will God show up in today?” is a question we might ask each morning. “In whom did I welcome God?” we could ask at the close of day.
I tell you, to even ask that question will open us up. And then we are likely to be one through whom God is revealed to another. And then we’ll know what it’s like to be welcomed in Jesus’ name.
9-17-15 - The Holy Child
What a Kodak moment: Jesus picks up a small child to illustrate his point about humility and servanthood. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” (This week's gospel passage is here.)
We find this moment sweet, because children are accorded such status in our culture. Not so much in Jesus’ time, when children were viewed as among the last – maybe ahead of slaves, but valued largely for the labor they would one day perform for the household. (Mark can’t even be bothered to record this child’s gender, referring only to “it.”)
For Jesus to equate welcoming a child with welcoming him was a radical example, not a sentimental one. And he is more subversive still – for he implicitly links welcoming the child to welcoming God the Father. God represented by a powerless, status-less child? What kind of God is this?
Perhaps the kind of God who would send his son into human life as a helpless infant, at the mercy of forces political, historical and familial. The kind of God who demonstrated his power in vulnerability, who allowed that son to die the death of the “last," naked, nailed to a cross, as powerless as can be. This not the first time in the Jesus story that welcoming a child is equivalent to welcoming him. His parents, the shepherds, the magi – they did it too.
In what ways are we called to welcome children in the name of Jesus? Certainly by according them dignity and respect in our worshiping communities, making room for their voices and wisdom (and artwork!). We welcome them by spending time getting to know them as people, not adults-in-training, but already saints of God with gifts for the rest of us.
And we are called to welcome children in Jesus’ name outside our congregations too. We are called to place such value on children that we happily provide tax monies for their education, and support laws to keep them safe from harm. We come to regard every child in every country on this earth as precious and worthy of food, water, housing and education - and security.
Another Kodak moment: The body of a small Syrian boy washed up on a beach, so still he could be sleeping. But he is dead, drowned, the victim of global conflicts and policies. That picture of 3-year-old Aylan Kurdi broke hearts and broke open borders, forcing the world to deal with the magnitude of its migration crisis. We are still figuring it out. But something has changed. That dead child made a global crisis human.
Jesus said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."
I commend to you my colleague Adam Yates' piece on responding to the Syrian crisis; it contains resources. Here is a statement from the bishops of the Episcopal Church in Connecticut, with links to resources.
We find this moment sweet, because children are accorded such status in our culture. Not so much in Jesus’ time, when children were viewed as among the last – maybe ahead of slaves, but valued largely for the labor they would one day perform for the household. (Mark can’t even be bothered to record this child’s gender, referring only to “it.”)
For Jesus to equate welcoming a child with welcoming him was a radical example, not a sentimental one. And he is more subversive still – for he implicitly links welcoming the child to welcoming God the Father. God represented by a powerless, status-less child? What kind of God is this?
Perhaps the kind of God who would send his son into human life as a helpless infant, at the mercy of forces political, historical and familial. The kind of God who demonstrated his power in vulnerability, who allowed that son to die the death of the “last," naked, nailed to a cross, as powerless as can be. This not the first time in the Jesus story that welcoming a child is equivalent to welcoming him. His parents, the shepherds, the magi – they did it too.
In what ways are we called to welcome children in the name of Jesus? Certainly by according them dignity and respect in our worshiping communities, making room for their voices and wisdom (and artwork!). We welcome them by spending time getting to know them as people, not adults-in-training, but already saints of God with gifts for the rest of us.
And we are called to welcome children in Jesus’ name outside our congregations too. We are called to place such value on children that we happily provide tax monies for their education, and support laws to keep them safe from harm. We come to regard every child in every country on this earth as precious and worthy of food, water, housing and education - and security.
Another Kodak moment: The body of a small Syrian boy washed up on a beach, so still he could be sleeping. But he is dead, drowned, the victim of global conflicts and policies. That picture of 3-year-old Aylan Kurdi broke hearts and broke open borders, forcing the world to deal with the magnitude of its migration crisis. We are still figuring it out. But something has changed. That dead child made a global crisis human.
Jesus said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."
I commend to you my colleague Adam Yates' piece on responding to the Syrian crisis; it contains resources. Here is a statement from the bishops of the Episcopal Church in Connecticut, with links to resources.
9-16-15 - Holy Doormats?
We all know people like this – and some of us have been people like this. People who jump up to fetch anything anyone might need, who are always asking, “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?,” who put aside their lives and careers to care for children or infirm parents, who show up at events even when they’re tired. As a culture, we’re ambivalent about such folks – sometimes we say, “What a saint!” and other times, “How codependent is she!”
Some of Jesus' teaching sounds like we are to be holy doormats, laying aside our own agenda, never seeking to be in charge, always serving. For instance, when he heard his disciples arguing about who is the greatest, He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”
Does the virtue of Christian humility demand that we sacrifice our dreams and passions? Or does being the servant of all rather require that we be true to who God made us to be? It occurs to me that we cannot empty ourselves if we are not full of ourselves.
To be “full of oneself” in our culture is to be conceited, self-promoting. But that kind of behavior comes from a place of insecurity, a heart that is empty, a self that is not quite full. A healthy person knows who she or he is, faults and blind spots, strengths and gifts. Only when we truly own the fullness of who God made us to be can we empty ourselves for the sake of God’s mission. After all, Jesus did not pour himself out from stocks that were running low; he poured himself out from the fullness of his humanity and divinity.
If we want to excel as disciples of Jesus Christ, it is our calling to serve the world in his name. How does serving others sit with you? Is it comfortable? Challenging? Too familiar? Demeaning?
If it is your default position, make sure your giving is in balance with your being nourished by God and the community. If serving others is uncomfortable, practice. Go serve a meal at a shelter or soup kitchen. Make a point of making coffee at the office – or making copies!
First or last, we are never alone in our serving. We serve alongside the One who had everything and gave it all in service to an ungrateful world. He can show us how to be servants of all with dignity and grace.
Some of Jesus' teaching sounds like we are to be holy doormats, laying aside our own agenda, never seeking to be in charge, always serving. For instance, when he heard his disciples arguing about who is the greatest, He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”
Does the virtue of Christian humility demand that we sacrifice our dreams and passions? Or does being the servant of all rather require that we be true to who God made us to be? It occurs to me that we cannot empty ourselves if we are not full of ourselves.
To be “full of oneself” in our culture is to be conceited, self-promoting. But that kind of behavior comes from a place of insecurity, a heart that is empty, a self that is not quite full. A healthy person knows who she or he is, faults and blind spots, strengths and gifts. Only when we truly own the fullness of who God made us to be can we empty ourselves for the sake of God’s mission. After all, Jesus did not pour himself out from stocks that were running low; he poured himself out from the fullness of his humanity and divinity.
If we want to excel as disciples of Jesus Christ, it is our calling to serve the world in his name. How does serving others sit with you? Is it comfortable? Challenging? Too familiar? Demeaning?
If it is your default position, make sure your giving is in balance with your being nourished by God and the community. If serving others is uncomfortable, practice. Go serve a meal at a shelter or soup kitchen. Make a point of making coffee at the office – or making copies!
First or last, we are never alone in our serving. We serve alongside the One who had everything and gave it all in service to an ungrateful world. He can show us how to be servants of all with dignity and grace.
9-15-15 - Jockeying for Position
Squabbling in the car on an endless road trip. That’s what I think of when I read this week’s gospel reading, and Jesus’ questioning of his disciples:
Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest.
There is something about journeying that increases tension – and when your leader has just announced that at some point he will be arrested, tried and executed, that tension can go through the roof. Afraid to ask Jesus what on earth he was talking about, his disciples instead turned on each other. They seem to have been jockeying for position, little realizing that the more visible they were as leaders in Jesus’ community, the more risk they faced.
Jockeying for position is something humans tend to do when we are insecure about where we are. Oh, there are some ruthlessly ambitious people who are always looking for an angle to get ahead, but most of us stay pretty content unless the ground starts to shift. Then suddenly it matters how we’re perceived and where we’re received.
As Christ-followers, we don't have to do that. One of the great gifts that come with membership in the family of God is freedom from having to position ourselves. In a community in which no one has more value than anyone else, no matter what our level of accomplishment or productivity, we don’t have to compete with one another for attention or reward. If God already loves us the most, and is already as delighted with us as God could possibly be, why worry about being seen as worthy or getting ahead of other people?
Of course, many of us still do, because we’re human and it takes a long time for the knowledge of God’s unmerited and limitless grace to replace the messages of competition and progress we ingest from family, school and workplace. It doesn’t hurt to remind ourselves daily of our infinite worth in the eyes of the Infinite Being. Or to remind each other.
If Jesus’ disciples had grasped that sooner, they would have had a different experience of being with him. They got it eventually - and so, God willing, will we.
Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest.
There is something about journeying that increases tension – and when your leader has just announced that at some point he will be arrested, tried and executed, that tension can go through the roof. Afraid to ask Jesus what on earth he was talking about, his disciples instead turned on each other. They seem to have been jockeying for position, little realizing that the more visible they were as leaders in Jesus’ community, the more risk they faced.
Jockeying for position is something humans tend to do when we are insecure about where we are. Oh, there are some ruthlessly ambitious people who are always looking for an angle to get ahead, but most of us stay pretty content unless the ground starts to shift. Then suddenly it matters how we’re perceived and where we’re received.
As Christ-followers, we don't have to do that. One of the great gifts that come with membership in the family of God is freedom from having to position ourselves. In a community in which no one has more value than anyone else, no matter what our level of accomplishment or productivity, we don’t have to compete with one another for attention or reward. If God already loves us the most, and is already as delighted with us as God could possibly be, why worry about being seen as worthy or getting ahead of other people?
Of course, many of us still do, because we’re human and it takes a long time for the knowledge of God’s unmerited and limitless grace to replace the messages of competition and progress we ingest from family, school and workplace. It doesn’t hurt to remind ourselves daily of our infinite worth in the eyes of the Infinite Being. Or to remind each other.
If Jesus’ disciples had grasped that sooner, they would have had a different experience of being with him. They got it eventually - and so, God willing, will we.
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