11-23-20 - Are We There Yet?

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

We may be staying put this year, but most years, Thanksgiving involves long car trips for many families, with that conversational staple, “When are we going to get there?” or its variant, “Are we there yet?”

Jesus’ followers had a similar question for him. If he was indeed the promised Messiah, shouldn't he be ringing down the curtain on the bad old days? After all, things weren’t so good – the Romans on their backs, their own tax collectors squeezing them for every penny, not to mention the temple taxes. Life was hard and often brutal. When was Jesus going to do something big?

In the gospel passage with which we begin the season of Advent, Jesus links this “end” with his own return. “Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.”

Pretty dramatic. But as to the “when,” not even Jesus knew: "But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come.”

These questions did not go away after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension. His followers were all the more convinced he was indeed the Messiah – so how long did the world have to wait? When would he return to usher in the New Age?

That question may be less urgent for many Christ-followers two millennia hence. Yet, whether it’s imminent or far-off, we are invited to live in readiness for the advent, the coming of Christ, all year-round, not only during the season named for that.

What does it mean to “live ready?” I think of people who sign up for courier services – they get to go to all kinds of exotic places all expenses paid – but they have to be ready on 24 hours’ notice to hand-deliver letters and packages all over the world. They stay packed, and shots up-to-date, and ready. Or people trying to sell their homes have to keep them neat so that agents can bring over prospective buyers at any time. Imagine how clean our kitchens would be if we always had to keep them de-cluttered! Imagine if our minds and hearts maintained such discipline.

As we get ourselves ready for this season of getting ourselves ready, we might take some time to examine our state of “readiness” for a radical change of life. This might raise our anxiety levels, as we often assume change will be unpleasant – and Jesus’ imagery of stars falling and a darkened sun, not to mention our daily newsfeeds, reinforce that view. So instead, imagine a delightful change, and ask the same question: how ready am I? What would I want to do or have done? How might I want to develop my relationship with God in order to be ready? Just asking those questions can create openings for the Holy Spirit to guide us.

The key to living ready, living “awake,” is intentionality. When we choose not to drift, choose to choose the light, we become bearers of it, no matter how dark the sun gets.

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11-20-20 - Can You See Me Now?

You can listen to this reflection here.

In this Sunday's gospel reading, Jesus says that when we give to people in need, we give to him. He says people in need are “his family.” So… what does that make us?

When we try to wrap our minds around this vision Jesus lays out, it can be easy to get into “us” and “them” thinking. If weare to care for the hungry, the naked, the incarcerated, the stranger, the thirsty, the sick, then we must be okay. They are “the needy,” we are “the givers.” We can forget how often we are on the receiving end of someone else’s giving… sometimes the very people we think we are caring for. Tax breaks for the well-off are funded in part by taxes faithfully paid by undocumented laborers in need of food and shelter; land, wealth, and education handed down through generations often came about through laws and policies favoring the white and wealthy. The “us” and “them” lines can get very blurry.

Some years ago, my congregation in Stamford had a thriving ministry among people who were homeless in the city’s south end. It started with a monthly meal at a shelter, which launched a monthly healing service, which generated a weekly bible study at another shelter, and then spilled onto the streets as we reached out to those who wouldn’t come in. A few parishioners made sandwiches and brought soup and offered them to a group that hung out on the sidewalk, partying. And then they said, “Anybody want a prayer?” Every hand went up. Even the biggest, toughest guys wanted prayer. So they prayed.

The next time, after offering prayer, the leader said, “I’ve got a cold. Would you pray for me?” She was engulfed in the group as everyone came and laid hands on her and prayed for her. And then they went back to drinking and cussing!

Who was the giver? Who was the givee? We became one community out there on the sidewalk, with Christ discernible in all of us. Jesus invites us to find him in people to whom we offer love. Remember that others have found him in us.

Can you think of a time when someone regarded you with eyes of love, maybe when you didn’t feel you deserved it? Did you know Jesus was looking at you?

Can you think of a time you found yourself able to love someone unlovable, or care for someone in extreme need when you didn’t particularly feel like it? Did you feel Jesus loving through you? I want to develop the spiritual practice of remembering in such encounters, “This is a child of God,” to start by honoring God’s creation in front of me. I’m praying for the grace to make that my first response. I might even try it when I read the newspaper!

Let’s pray to be given the faith vision to see Jesus in unlikely people. Ask for the Holy Spirit to make Christ visible in us, and for the grace to become more transparent.

Remember those mobile phone ads that had the guy going all over the country saying, “Can you hear me now?” to demonstrate the breadth of the network? I think Jesus is saying to us, “Can you see me now? Look, now I’m in this person, now I’m in that one.” And also in you, and in me, in a network that has no end.

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11-19-20 - Jesus' Family

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

Thanksgiving is a week away. In normal years we'd be planning family gatherings over laden tables. Is that a foretaste of heaven or hell? Jesus draws a sharp distinction between those two realms in this vision of the End. Behind Door#1 is an inheritance of infinite and eternal value: 

"Then the king will say to those at his right hand, 'Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.'”

Behind Door #2? Damnation: "Then he will say to those at his left hand, “You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.”

Jesus so wants to emphasize this teaching that he repeats the whole narrative of “hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick, in prison,” in almost the same words – but the second time he is indicting people for what they did not do: “…for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, etc. …

Then they also will answer, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?” Then he will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.”

It’s a pretty low bar, to have to serve only “one” of the least. Maybe the folks in the "cursed" line could not even do that, and are left to the consequences of their self-gratifying narcissism and cruel neglect of those with whom they shared this planet. Let’s hope there aren’t too many in that line.

The folks on the right are presumably continuing a relationship with God they embarked upon in their earthly life. In taking care of the “least of these” members of what Jesus calls his family, they have become part of the family themselves and thus inheritors of the Realm of God.

This parable goes much deeper than merely “doing good,” or “charity,” or taking care of the “less fortunate.” The blessed are those who not only serve but identify with the stranger, the sick, the incarcerated, the hungry, the naked, the thirsty. They don’t see themselves as “other” or “better.” Maybe they help because they don’t believe they are any better, just more fortunate. Or they offer care because, like Mother Teresa with the lepers of Calcutta, they experience Christ’s presence in the ones in need.

Do you ever have the experience of helping someone and feeling you’re connected to Jesus in that moment? Or feel related to people in extreme need? When I pray with men or women in a homeless shelter, occasionally a moment of camaraderie will break through my sense of being different from them. Then I feel like I'm their sister, not a "helper."

How might we become more open to people who seem so different from us – living hand to mouth, unable to stay sober, manipulating their way through life? If Jesus says those people are his family, and we’re his family, how might we share Thanksgiving with them?

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11-18-20 - Blessed Are the Unsuccessful

You can listen to this reflection here.

In this week’s gospel story, Jesus speaks of what will be “when the Son of Man comes in his glory.” I assume this means the end of the world as we know it – after all, when Jesus returns in glory and ushers in the reign of God’s perfect peace and justice, we’re kind of done. Roll up the sidewalks and repair to those heavenly mansions prepared for us, to enjoy an eternity of love at a never-ending banquet.

Yet according to this vision not everyone will be there – the “cursed” will be sorted out, the “blessed” invited in. And what is the criteria for this sorting? How we treat the hungry, thirsty, the naked, sick, imprisoned; in other words, the marginalized:
“Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”

Jesus anticipates that the blessed will be baffled – “When did we see you hungry and feed you?” He says the king will answer: “Truly, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.”

We know that by “me,” Jesus means himself – he, who called himself the "Son of Man," is the king in the story, and the marginalized are his family. This give us two big clues about how we might find ourselves on the right side in glory:
1. We will give ourselves to those who are not successful in worldly terms; being hungry, thirsty, unclothed, sick, or imprisoned are not markers of worldly success, right? And
2. We will give ourselves to Jesus, who said we’d find him in exactly those people.

The world looks for Jesus in fancy churches and gilded mosaics – and where has he always been found? In a stable amidst the straw; on the road, nowhere to lay his head; at dinner with roughs and lowlifes – and, finally, in a god-forsaken killing ground, the “Place of the Skull.” The only time we see Jesus in palaces is when he’s being interrogated in Herod and Pilate’s kangaroo courts.

This is the beauty of our salvation story: this unfathomable lowering of God himself into human form; the mystery that the One who IS outside of time and space consented to be bound in those dimensions, to live and die at the mercy of the very people he came to save, forgive, heal, redeem, set free. We see the Anointed One disguising his royalty in the rags of beggars and harlots, lepers and prisoners. And, as Martin Luther noted, we are the beneficiaries of this Great Exchange, as we trade in our rags for his royal robes.

Where do you usually look for Jesus? I often seek him in my prayer imagination, as that’s how he’s been most real to me. I forgot to look for him among the "unsuccessful." Do you know anyone you’d categorize as “unsuccessful” by measures the world uses? Have you seen Christ in that person? Is Jesus inviting you to look for him in a particular person or sort of person? What happens when you pray for that person today? What happens when you ask Jesus to reveal himself in that person or persons?

When we seek to love Jesus in an “unsuccessful" person we show them love too. They don’t know it’s Jesus we’re loving – they just know someone is seeing them, honoring them, feeding, tending to them. And gradually, as we keep it up, they become stronger and transformed into the very image of a “successful" person. Just like you and me, right?

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11-17-20 - The Great Sorting

You can listen to this reflection here.

Should we blame Jesus for the age-old bias against left-handers? In this week’s Gospel reading, he spins a vision of the Son of Man seated in glory, with all the nations gathered before him, sorting people like livestock. The blessed go to his right hand, the cursed (sinister?) to his left: “All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left.”

Why do goats stand in for the cursed? Why must any be cursed? For that matter, why must the judgment involve separating the sheep from the goats? (Or, for Episcopalians, the chic from the gauche… ba-dum-bum…) Why must there be a judgment at all? And need we fear it?

How literally should we take Jesus’ words here? Though this is not a parable in the same way as his other stories, Jesus does use symbolic language to convey a spiritual truth. He wants his followers to know that our choices in this life have consequences – and that we will be judged in large measure by how we do or do not care for the most vulnerable among us. Or, put another way, How well did you love your neighbor as yourself?

Most church-goers I encounter these days are profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of a Final Judgment. I am too. We don’t know what will be. We only know that in the gospel accounts handed down to us, Jesus referred to such an event occurring at the “end of the age.” He was right in line with the testimony of Israel’s prophets, all of whom refer at some point or another to the Judgment or the Day of Wrath or the “Great and Terrible Day of the Lord.” Christian preachers who try to “scare folks into heaven” come by that approach honestly – our scriptures are full of dire warnings.

Of course, our New Testament also affirms that we are saved by Christ's righteousness, not our own. I prefer the “love people into heaven" approach. As we will see with deeper exploration, Jesus associates salvation not only with how we treat others, but how well we recognize him. He is our “ticket to heaven,” if you will.

But I wonder: do we want a heaven from which some are excluded, even if they’ve excluded themselves? Do we want a sorting? I can think of few visions sadder than people sent to the left side, cut off from the Promise. Well... what about torturers or terrorists? Would I be sad to see them sorted out? On some level yes,. I don’t want to think anyone is beyond hope, beyond the reach of God’s power to transform. Black hearts have turned before. Witness John Newton and a thousand others.

It is hard for me to find the Good News in this scenario. It’s not enough to think “I’m safe.” I want the promise to be eternal, the offer good forever, for all time, all people. So I will pray, pray for those who seem to turn their back on God, on Jesus, on the good, whether it’s because of disorder or trauma, or because they’ve made a full-on choice to get what they can in this world, no matter who they destroy.

Maybe as we pray we can see a speck of room for Jesus in them. We can pray that he will heal and gently guide them home with the rest of the sheep. And the goats.

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11-16-20 - King of All Nations

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

We are nearing the end of our church year – next Sunday is celebrated as “Christ the King” Sunday in many churches. This is not an official feast day, but a focus that brings our whole year of Jesus-stories to their ultimate end: that this strangely born infant who was honored as king; this crucified teacher who was lauded and then mocked as king; truly was, is, and is to be the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

We also come to the end of three weeks in Matthew 25, a chapter full of rich parables and images. Once again, Jesus has a story to tell, but not this time a parable. Parables are allegorical tales Jesus told to describe the Kingdom of God. Here he spins a vision of our future. Jesus images himself as a king, seated on a throne, overseeing a gathering of all nations and peoples. He is predicting his future when he is no longer cloaked in human flesh with all its limitations, but fully revealed, radiantly triumphant.

This is what he says will happen:

When the Son of Man comes in his glory and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him.

At the very beginning of our salvation story, God makes Abraham a series of promises. Each one includes this: that through Abraham all nations will be blessed. Psalmists and prophets later picked up the theme of all nations; Isaiah foretold the day when all nations will stream to the light of the one true God (Isaiah 60:3). Later still, St. Paul echoed Jesus’ vision in his letter to the church at Ephesus (also a reading appointed for Sunday):

God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come.

The promised, in-breaking reign of God is not only for those who follow Jesus in this life. It is a promise of peace for the whole cosmos, a vision of nations coming together. In our ever more fractured world, it can be hard to believe in such a vision – but our believing is one of the ways God brings it into being. When we believe in that vision of unity, it is harder to perpetuate enmity and violence. As we put our faith in that vision, we desire it and work toward it, becoming the peace-makers and justice-seekers Jesus wants his followers to be.

Here’s a prayer exercise for us to try: Pick any two bitter world enemies. Imagine people from those two nations (or enemies in the same nation…) streaming toward a light-filled mountain, merging as they come together to climb toward the light. That’s a way of praying. Take another two enemies, do it again. Think of an enemy of your own country. Imagine being part of a stream of your fellow citizens moving together toward the Light of the World, the King to whom all earthly powers will yield authority. That’s the future we proclaim. THAT’s the Gospel, the Good News we have to share.

I know a woman who prays daily for peace in the most unlikely places, for the conversion to love of the most hate-filled souls. She is actively exercising faith, speaking God’s future into being now. Let’s join her, that all nations will be blessed through us.

 

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11-13-20 - The Rich Get Richer

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

Maybe we can empathize with the folks in many of Jesus’ stories who get thrown into outer darkness “where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Apparently, in the time of Covid-19 and increased national tensions, Americans are clenching their jaws in sleep to the point that there is a dental epidemic of cracked teeth. Jesus used this phrase often; I wish he was being funny.

I don’t like these unhappy endings Jesus sometimes put on his stories. I prefer the ones that emphasize mercy and forgiveness. There seems to be no mercy for this hapless servant who hid the talent entrusted to him. He comes and says his piece to the master, and gives him back the coin, saying, “Here you have what is yours.” But the master is livid and replies,

‘You wicked and lazy servant! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest. So take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. As for this worthless servant, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

Wow. This poor guy may have thought he was doing the right thing, the safe thing. But the safe thing seems not to be what the master considers the right thing. He is not going to give this one a second chance, but will take the resources from him and give it to the one who already doubled his money.

Is this right? Is this fair? Is that how God regards us when we don’t use the riches we’ve been given to bless others? Well, God’s ideas of equity and ours often differ. If God wants to see God’s mission accomplished, and God has chosen to work through humankind, it makes sense to give resources to people who have the faith, the vision and the courage to implement them. If we feel impoverished as people or communities of faith, it’s not that we’re bad, or wrong – it may just be that we’re timid, risk-averse, inward-looking. That's not what God needs us to be.

What is the greatest gift God has given us? According to St. Paul, it’s love. (I Corinthians 13) Today I suggest we read through this parable again today, substituting the word “love” for “talents.” How that opens it up!

Do we invest the love we have in loving others – which is about the most risky thing we can do in this life? Are we spending all we have in love?

Or have we buried our love, or some of it, in a hole, covered over, "safe?" Do we bury our love in over-work or stress or sadness, afraid to risk losing what little we have?

That’s a thing about love – if we’re afraid of losing it, we’ve already lost it. And when we give it away lavishly, we seem to find it multiplying in our lives. That’s how the “rich get richer” in the Life of God. That’s how we create enough wealth to provide for everyone – a wealth of love, enough to reclaim, restore and renew this world and every person it.

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