12-11-18 - Greed

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

How many coats is too many? Sweaters? Shoes? Cans of tuna? Does it count if the coats are old? Where is the line between thrift and greed? I fear John the Baptist would say we crossed it a long time ago.

In response to his harsh words about the judgment to come upon those who do not “bear fruit worthy of repentance,” John’s listeners were perplexed – and anxious:
And the crowds asked him, ‘What then should we do?’ In reply he said to them, ‘Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.’

I like stuff. I like accumulating it, and I must like storing it and moving it, because much of my stuff has been with me awhile. (I just went to a wedding wearing an outfit I’ve had since my twenties, so keeping stuff does foster frugality…) Yet I’m also burdened by owning so much, and moved by the need of so many in the world. I suspect I’m not the only person who squirms in that cognitive dissonance.

Greed is not hard to define. It is keeping more than you need, and not sharing it with people who do need it. Almost everyone I know is complicit in a system that fosters greed, even encourages it – after all, buying things is our duty to keep the economy going, right? Except that we could as well keep the economy going by buying things for other people, people who are not related to us, who do not have the resources we have.

Part of my problem, when I am reminded of the hold greed has on me, is that I go to the “all or nothing” place. I’m not ready to downsize to a 300-square-foot tiny house and a 20-item wardrobe and give everything else away, so I guess I just stay greedy until I’m ready to change, right?

Maybe not. Maybe there is an incremental approach. Maybe we develop strategies to slow down our rate of accumulation and accelerate our giving to others – and by others, I mean people in genuine need, not gift-giving to our loved ones.

What if we commit to buying one item for a homeless family for every two gifts we buy this Christmas season? What if we make an equivalent donation each time we buy something for ourselves that we don't really need? Even beginning to evaluate our purchases would go a long way toward making us more aware of how much we have relative to so many others. And linking our accumulation to giving would help us release a lot more.

Do I want to take all the joy out of prosperity? No. I just think it's possible that John – and Jesus, and St. Francis, and thousands of other saints over millennia – had a point. If our joy is located in our prosperity, we’re not ready to dwell in the Life of God. And when our joy is located in the Life of God… we're apt to redefine prosperity.

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12-10-18 - Holy Ranting

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

Anyone with a Facebook account is familiar with the rant – an impassioned articulation of support or denunciation, fueled by indignation, righteous or otherwise, sometimes punctuated by biting wit. A good rant can leave you feeling somewhat singed, or slightly sick.

John the Baptist, like many a prophet in Israel’s tradition, was a master of the good rant. He let the crowds who’d come out to see him know just what he thought of their sight-seeing curiosity and trendy repentance.

John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our ancestor'; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire."

Wow. In a few short words, he’s called them a nest of poisonous snakes and warned them of wrath, fire and axes. He’s told them their history as “God’s chosen people” will not protect them from God’s righteous judgment. Is this the kind of preaching that fills churches?

It didn’t seem to hurt John’s numbers… nor did he care. Like the prophets of old, he had a message from God to deliver, and he delivered it without concern for the outcome. He was there to tell them what they needed to hear, and to offer them a ritual that made visible the internal repentance to which he called them. What people did with that message was between them and God.

The prophets we meet in the Hebrew Bible didn’t mince words either. Their prophecies veered between doom and promise, and were often terrifying. A prophet doesn’t have to be frightening, but the prophet does have to honestly say what she or he believes God wants the people to hear. That’s the tricky part – to speak for God, and not just out of your own sense of right or wrong - or grievance.

John’s essential message, if we take out the scary bits, was that people were to bear the fruit of repentance, not just say the words. If they were genuinely sorry for the way they had been living, conducting business and relationships, there should be a visible effect in changed lives and behaviors.

We are not to stop calling out injustice and untruth when we see it. We are to work for equity and access to resources and security for all people, and if necessary to speak against those who would deny those basic rights. Sometimes that speaking out will include ranting. More often it will entail a steady, relentless process of forming relationships in which communication can happen in humility and honesty.

Jesus could get up a good rant too – but usually he brought transformation by drawing people into a relationship of love. A good prophet speaks the truth; a good leader fosters relationships to bring about outcomes that reflect that truth. I am called to that ministry, transformation in Christ’s love.

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12-7-18 - Another Song of Zechariah

Today we'll turn from Sunday's gospel to hear from one of those whom God chose to reveal the mystery of Incarnation, Zechariah, the aged father of John the Baptist.
You can listen to this reflection here.

I didn’t hear much after “Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son.” She would what? We would have what? How? Why now? Why not… The questions filled me, knocking each other out of the way, jostling for attention. I will have a son? Elizabeth will bear a son? I am to have a small child in the house, to teach and raise? I am to have a namesake?

Ah no, I remember that much from what followed. He is to be called John. The angel, or whatever he was, said a lot of other things about this child yet to be, almost like someone already knew him quite well. An ascetic, he would be. A leader. A prophet. A holy man.

I only asked one thing – you wouldn’t have thought it so bad. “How will I know? I’m old, and Elizabeth is long past childbearing, not that that we were ever able to conceive.”
How I can I now conceive the inconceivable?

“I said so,” said Gabriel, like that should be enough. “God sent me. You think an angel is going to show up in front of you and tell you something false, imaginary?” And for my temerity in asking a logical question, he made me mute. He took my speech. He took my language, my precious words, my ability to express, to convince, to curse, to bless.

Or did he give me something? The time, the space, the silence, to digest the crazy promise, the mission my son, my child, my already-beloved will have? 

Time and space to contemplate being the father of one who will speak for God, a teacher, a path-maker, going before the coming savior, making hearts ready to receive that new life. 

Time and space to try to grasp the promise of salvation, of a savior – for I know my son is to be connected to one who will deliver humanity, all the world, even the cosmos…
Time and space to absorb mercy, mercy I have never felt I needed, as a good and upright man from a priestly line.

Mercy not only for me, but for all who sit in shadows and hopelessness. 

Mercy not only for sin; mercy that brings new life into being, as the dawn brings forth a new day…
Mercy that makes whole.

Have I been made silent to receive that gift of peace?

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12-6-18 - The Level Road

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

Who knew that God was in the road business? Flattening, milling, paving, making a way so that he can ride in to the world? That’s the vision that Isaiah sketched, cited by John as he urged people to prepare for God’s advent in Christ:

"Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth…"

Another prophet, Baruch, also spoke about leveling the road, not for so much for God’s travel as for that of the people of God returning home from exile:

"For God has ordered that every high mountain and the everlasting hills be made low
and the valleys filled up, to make level ground, so that Israel may walk safely in the glory of God." 

We can find this leveling principle in much of Scripture – it shows up in the songs of Hannah and Zechariah and Mary, suggesting an economic leveling as the poor are raised up and the “mighty cast down from their thrones.” It’s there in teachings to lift up our praises even in the face of woes. And of course we see it worked out in Jesus’ life, as he met rich and poor, powerful and lowly with equal love and challenge.

What does this metaphor do for us? After all, there is much to be said for highs and lows, whether we are hiking in the mountains or navigating the complex terrain of a relationship. Who wants everything level?

Well, just as there is a benefit to having level roads, even in hilly terrain, so we, as ones led by the Spirit, are invited to move through the inevitable bumps, even punishing hills of our lives from a level place, grounded in the life of Christ within us. As a wise friend once reminded me, “God doesn’t promise to change our circumstances. God promises to change us within them.” God gives us the grace to deal with our circumstances, the highs and the lows.

Grace is the level road which invites many people to travel on it, returning from the various exiles in which we find ourselves to the embrace of the One who eagerly waits for us to come home.

And grace is the level road on which that One comes to us, gaining access to our hearts and minds, our faith and hope and dreams, our wounds and disappointments.

The level road is for us and for God. It is where we can meet God and walk the highlands and lowlands together.

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12-5-18 - Cleansing Waters

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

We often refer to John as “the Baptist,” perhaps causing some to wonder why he's not "John the Lutheran." Some translations call him “John the Baptizer.” Luke identified him not by vocation, but by his parentage, “son of Zechariah.”

...the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

The “baptism” John offered bore little relation to the rite of Christian initiation we know as baptism in the church. He was not baptizing people into the identity or family of Christ – he was offering a ritual cleansing to symbolize the spiritual cleansing of repentance and forgiveness. And why would anyone need a “baptism of repentance?” To clear the way in their hearts for the message Jesus would bring and the reconciliation to God he would make possible.

John was the advance man. His mission was articulated even before his conception, when his father received a visit from the Angel Gabriel telling him that he and his aged wife Elizabeth, long childless, were to have a son:

The angel said to him, ‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.’

To make ready a people prepared for the Lord – that is the mission for which John lived and died. He approached it by calling people to repent, for personal sins and shortcomings as well as complicity in societal sin and injustice.

I have been asked why we confess sins in church – doesn’t that convey a message of shame and “not-good-enough-ness?” I would not drop that from the liturgy for the same reason that John was in the repentance business: If we want to welcome God, we need to be real about ourselves. We need to make room in the clutter of our hearts and lives. In fact, I prefer to put the confession closer to the beginning of the worship, so that we can clear the decks and make space for the Spirit before we engage the Word and share the Meal.

We are to share John’s mission to "make ready a people prepared for the Lord." We don’t need to point out to people their sins or sinfulness; we need only be clear and humble about our own, in a graceful way, speaking freely of our need for forgiveness and God’s abundant mercy. That way we invite people to bring their whole selves into an encounter with God, and let them know that everything can be transformed, everything made whole.

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12-4-18 - Incoming!

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

When I was newly ordained, I was part of a monthly diocesan Ordinands Training Program. Once, when we were meeting at diocesan offices, we were surprised by a sign indicating our meeting room which read, “Ordnance Training.” A Freudian misspelling, perhaps? We agreed it was pretty apt.

This comes to mind when I read these words: “…the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.” I think of shouts in battle, “Incoming!,” warning soldiers to get out of the way of enemy bombs and shells. Is this how it felt to John when the Word of God came to him in the wilderness? What God asked of John did prepare people for the coming of Christ – and also set him up for imprisonment and an untimely death in Herod’s dungeon.

In the bible, the wilderness is a place where people often heard the word of God. And so it is for us – eventually, when we leave behind the clutter of our lives and spend time in wilder, less programmed spaces, we become more open to the urging of the Spirit. It can involve quite a wait; the word of God comes on God’s timetable, which can be frustrating for those of us accustomed to making things happen. And sometimes it unfolds in increments instead of all at once. But when the word of God comes to us with a message or a mission, it can be explosive, demanding that we rearrange our lives and priorities, even our relationships.

John had a very big part to play in the unfolding of God’s mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ. God is inviting you and me to participate in that mission as well – and we need to make ourselves available to receiving that word. If you want the word of God to come to you, tell God that in prayer. Say, “I’m open. I’m listening. And I'm willing to have my life rearranged.”

Maybe this Advent we can find some wilderness time, in short bits or for a proper retreat, and see how the Spirit is inviting us to participate in reshaping this world.

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12-3-18 - Specificity

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

I am so happy to be back in the Land of Luke in our Sunday gospel readings. I appreciate Luke’s emphases on healing, justice, the work of the Holy Spirit, highlighting Jesus’ compassion, and friendships with women and people marginalized by disease, ethnicity, poverty, wealth or sin. And maybe it’s the medical training (if the author of this Gospel and Acts is Luke the physician mentioned in the latter work…), but Luke is often very precise in his reportage, telling the story as fully and accurately as possible.

So it is that, before he tells us about John the Baptist appearing in the wilderness, he gives us the who, what, when and where:

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.

Luke gives us the lay of the land, the context – exactly when this story took place, the locations that were germane, the political figures of import, and the spiritual leaders. He even tells us whose son John was, and where he was when this word of God came to him.

This is more than attention to historical detail. Luke reminds us that this great story of God’s intervention in Gods own creation isn't just a mythic tale – it is specific. It happened to real people in real places, facing real challenges and circumstances. Our Good News is infinite and universal – and as specific as a unique person born to a particular family in a particular place and community. Theologians even have a term for this: the scandal of particularity. (Trot that out at your next dinner party...)

The power of the human incarnation of the Son of God is for all people in all times and places. But that incarnate person, Jesus, was rooted in a specific time and place. So are you. So am I. The infinite and universal Love of God has also shown up in your particular person and circumstances, family, networks, preoccupations and prejudices. You first encountered the Gospel in a particular setting and person and community, just as Christ-in-you is the best way that people around you will get to know God.

Where was it that you first encountered the Living God? When? Who was in authority, and who was important in your life? What was happening in the world around you? Take some time to recall the circumstances in which the revelation of God’s love first became real to you.

That’s your story within the Great Story. We can only effectively share the Great Story if we begin with how God showed up for us - and that story is always specific.

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