Water Daily

7-12-22 - Deep Listening

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

I aspire to be a good listener – it doesn’t come naturally, as so often I have something I want to say. (Five days a week, even!) Listening well is an attribute demonstrated by Mary of Bethany, when Jesus comes to visit the house:

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying.

We often think of prayer as what we have to say to God, pouring out our gratitude and grumbles, our hopes and regrets. But saints and mystics throughout the centuries have pointed to Mary’s posture as the beginning of true prayer, sitting at Jesus’ feet and listening to what he says.

There are a number of ways we can do that. One is by reading and chewing on his words and actions as we find them in Scripture. Taking a small chunk of Jesus’ teaching, or reading, re-reading and putting ourselves into a gospel story about him is a way we can settle our spirits and start to truly hear from him. Talking to someone else about where we're experiencing God's activity and love, and hearing their stories is another way we listen to Jesus.

And we can learn to listen in prayer. Some do that through cultivating meditation techniques like centering prayer, learning to still the chattering mind and come into a place of deep, unspoken communion with God, in which occasionally we receive words or encouragement. Those of us who’s chattering rarely ebbs are hard pressed to truly quiet our minds. But we can open our imaginations to the Spirit, inviting God to make himself known through places or scenes that unfold in our mind’s eye.

For a time in my life, there was a rocky beach in Greece where I met Jesus in prayer in my imagination and shared conversation. That was followed by a musty old English church, a chalet kind of house in the mountains, and most recently a forest glade by a pond. Go figure. I didn’t choose these “mediating” spots, as I call them. They unfolded in my mind as I prayed, and I just went with them, asking where Jesus was. Right now there is no place, just sometimes words coming to mind as I pray, that I believe come from Jesus.

Our minds might not easily become still, but we can bring our bodies into stillness by setting aside time in our day or week, and even a place in our home or office where we settle in to listen to Jesus. I’m sure he doesn’t mind when we talk – our loving God wants to hear from her children. Yet we will find our spirits expand as we learn to follow the way of Mary, and let ourselves listen deeply to that still small voice of God which is amplified in our silences.

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7-11-22 - Hosting Jesus

You can listen to this reflection here.

How would you feel about hosting Jesus to your home? In many of my congregations, we’ve had a Jesus Doll, which we invite children to take home for a week at a time, asking them to record where they took Jesus, what they did, how it felt. One mother brought him back after two weeks, saying, “It was very stressful! When Jenny took him to school they made her put him in her cubby all day, because it was a religious doll. At home, the dog tried to eat him, and then our Jewish neighbors came over, so we put him away… it just wasn’t a good week to have the Son of God at our house.”

Our story this week is about welcoming Jesus. Only five verses, it is packed with meaning. One of two gospel stories about dinner parties for Jesus in the home of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, it has encouraged mystics and alarmed hostesses since it was recorded. It is held up as an affirmation of the contemplative way of faith over the active, a teaching on anxiety, an exploration of devotion. And it begins with hospitality, which is where we left off in the story of the Good Samaritan.

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.

Other accounts about this family tell us the “certain village” is Bethany and that Martha is a sister to Mary and Lazarus. In accounts in the Gospel of John she is referred to as Lazarus' sister, but Luke identifies Martha as the head of household. She is in a position to offer Jesus hospitality, along with his entourage. As we will see, they are close enough friends that she can whine at him, and he gently rebuke her. It is one of the most vivid of Jesus’ friendships we see in the gospel record. And yes, welcoming the Son of God into her home causes Martha a bit of stress.

Are you aware of Jesus with you at home, or do you tend to connect with him elsewhere? Have you set aside a spot for prayer and study, a place where you sit to connect with Jesus? What if we tried it this week, settling in, inviting him to join us, seeing where the conversation went? Would you feel you had to clean up? Dress nicely? Serve something? Or would you find he was the host?

As we explore this very rich encounter between Jesus and these two sisters, I hope it will deepen our own encounters with him. In terms of the challenges it places on our priorities, it’s never a good week to have the Son of God at our house. On the other hand, his presence enriches everything else that goes on there. Invite him over. I’m pretty sure he’ll accept.

7-8-22 - The Extra Mile

You can listen to this reflection here.

"Who is my neighbor?" That’s the question that launches Jesus’ story about a man beaten, robbed and nearly killed on the Jerusalem-Jericho road, and the person who helped him. The lawyer asking the question wondered what neighbors he was supposed to help. Jesus delivered a twist in his answer: it’s not so much who you are to be neighbor to, as what kind of neighbor you are. “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” The neighbor is the one who sees, stops, investigates, helps, and ensures restoration.

I believe the mission of God is to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ. This is what we see the Samaritan man do in Jesus’ story:

"But a Samaritan while travelling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, 'Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.'"

Being a neighbor goes beyond taking in the mail or watering the plants, beyond visiting the sick or texting a donation in times of natural disasters, beyond meeting needs to effecting transformation. Being a neighbor means being there for the long haul, arranging for restoration of health, status and dignity. The Samaritan, most likely a merchant traveling to Jericho to market his goods, used his own oil and wine to heal the wounds (oil can be a symbol of the Holy Spirit; wine the healing blood of Jesus…). He gave up his ride to the wounded man and walked next to his donkey, his slower pace now putting him at greater risk of bandits. He brought the man to a place of hospitality for rest and recovery, paid for his care and arranged for the future. In so doing, he expanded the circle of healing and assured recompense for his collaborators.

When have you experienced someone giving you that gift of unstinting love and care, going deep and long? When have you been moved to do that for someone else, maybe someone going through a loss or chemotherapy or a protracted life crisis? One of my previous parishioners began to visit a homeless man in a downtown park several times a week, developing a relationship, listening to his stories, providing when he allowed her to. She was being a neighbor the way Jesus meant it.

I don’t think God wants us to go the extra mile with gritted teeth – God wants us to feel moved to offer it freely when we do. None of us can give like that to everyone – yet if more of us approached the world as this Samaritan man did, maybe everyone would be helped and everyone would be helping.

I wish we could hear the story of this man who was victimized, and then restored through the love of a perfect stranger. I wonder who he went on to help into wholeness?I pray that you and I will encounter many – and be – perfect strangers of healing love.

7-7-22 - Walk On By?

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

You know the expression, “a world of hurt.” That is where we live, often surrounded by suffering and pain, deprivation and injustice. And thanks to global communications and interconnectedness, we are confronted daily by the immediacy of suffering the world over, images of refugees and starving children as urgent to us as homeless persons in our communities. Don’t we have to pass some of it by?

Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while travelling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity.”

The priest and the Levite are the bad guys of the story (after the robbers, of course…). We expect more of religious leaders than we do of ordinary folk, which makes their indifference to the man’s suffering even worse in our eyes. We might spare them some sympathy: as religious leaders dedicated to temple worship, they each had a duty to maintain ritual purity, which would have been violated by coming into contact with a dead person. For all they knew, this man was beyond help. And perhaps they had schedules to keep and tasks to maintain, which is often what keeps us from stopping and responding.

What is radical in Jesus’ story is who he places in the role of hero: a Samaritan, the wrong sort of person from the perspective of Jesus’ Jewish listeners. And why does the Samaritan man stop to check out the situation? He was moved with pity.

We live our days in the tension of competing claims, conflicting responses. Our compassion may often be stirred, yet we are also caught by the often delightful demands of work and family, and the need to maintain some balance in life. People who stop and give all the time often burn out or cheat their families of their best selves. So when do we stop, and when do we walk on?

We can learn to notice when we are moved by compassion or a desire to help. When you feel these things in response to a person in need, offer that reaction in prayer and ask God: "Are you inviting me to offer myself in this situation? Are you up to something that you’d like my participation in? What shall I offer? What shall I hold back?" Make it a prayer conversation, not a decision you make alone.

If we approach this parable only from the standpoint of ethics, only as the ones who might help, forgetting that we are also ones who'd spiritually been left for dead, for whom Jesus gave everything to reclaim, restore and renew us to wholeness, we miss the point. When we remember how much we have received, it helps us know when and how to give.

7-6-22 - Neighbors

You can listen to this reflection here.

It is no surprise that Jesus’ interlocutor in this week's gospel story is identified as a lawyer – first thing he does is look for the loophole. That’s no diss on lawyers – it’s what they’re paid to do. And it’s human nature to categorize and define, to narrow the field so that we can manage things. It can also keep us from living into the heart of God’s commandments.

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.”

What do you suppose the man was hoping to hear? Your neighbor is the person who looks like you? Who shares your ethnicity? Your family heritage? Your lifestyle? Socio-economic bracket? National identity? That’s how some people define “neighbor,” so they can justify devoting their resources to their own kind. That is how the bulk of the wealth in our country has ended up in the bank accounts of a relatively small percentage of the population, while we have a serious problem with poverty and hunger.

In reply, Jesus begins to tell a story about a man who was beaten, robbed and left for dead on a notoriously dangerous road. I wonder what the man thought about that response to his question. “Is he saying my neighbor is anyone who is victimized? How extensive is my obligation to such folks? He made the foolish choice to do business on that road, and to go alone… If such a man is my neighbor, where does it stop? Where can I draw the line and still be in God’s will?”

As we will see, a few people in the story draw the line rather close, and one seems not to draw one at all, giving well beyond expectations. But how about us? How do we decide who we will help and how much? There is no right or wrong answer – it’s just good for us to know how we define neighbors, and what criteria we use to evaluate whether or when to offer help. Some people will give generously to total strangers in the event of a natural disaster, and refuse all help to the poor in their own towns. We all approach it differently.

The point of examining ourselves on this question is not to instill guilt or even to suggest guidelines. The point is to become more aware of our default positions, and invite the Holy Spirit into our decision-making processes. You tell God who you think your neighbor is, and is not; then ask God to tell you who God thinks your neighbor is.

Our responses will likely still have limits according to our tendencies and our capacity for giving. I hope that as we explore this rich story, though, we will become freed from self-imposed limits, and expand our vision of what it means to have and to be a neighbor.

7-5-22 - Religion or Relationship?

You can listen to this reflection here.

The parable known as “The Good Samaritan” is familiar to many of us. Exploring it from different angles this week gives us a chance to hone in on details we don’t always notice. One of these is the context in which Jesus tells this story: a conversation he has with a lawyer who wants to test his knowledge and holiness. “Lawyer” probably means more a scholar of the law, such as a Pharisee, than someone practicing in the courts, and the reference to testing Jesus suggests this was a person of some authority.

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

Clearly, this gentleman knows the law well, for he cites not only the commonly quoted portion of the Shema, “You shall love the Lord your God…” but also a lesser injunction buried in Leviticus 19, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” which Jesus himself had elevated as a core commandment. Jesus commends the correctness of his answer, though in his story he will challenge him (and us) on just how complicated it can be to fulfill these words. What puzzles me, though, is the man’s question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Everyone knows inheritance is not earned or merited, nor can it be secured on one’s own timetable. It is the free gift of one who has departed this human life, and wishes to leave her or his goods to others. Inheritance is a function of relationship, not something we work for. Embedded in this question lies the primary tension that has dogged Christianity since before it was a religion – the tug of war between God’s unmerited grace and our efforts to earn it.

Judaism in Jesus’ time was dominated by leaders who were experts at trying to earn God’s favor through fidelity to the Law. The Law in itself was holy, a blessing, a revelation of God. The ways it became an instrument of judgment rather than love had caused it to become more oppressive than life-giving. This is a constant theme of Jesus’ teaching and way of life. He was ever calling people from the rigors of religion into the refreshment of relationship with their heavenly Father, the God who draws so near to his people.

It seems to be human nature to veer back into religion, which is something we feel we can control. The Holy Spirit exerts a contrary pull on us, drawing us back to God in relationship. We help or hinder that movement by our intentions, as we recognize when we’re trying to earn our own inheritance and yield once again to the transforming power of God’s grace.

That grace is an inheritance which is ours by virtue of our adoption into the family of God. It is a trust fund of power and love and forgiveness and healing to which we already have access. And as we begin to draw on that Life, we often become better neighbors.

7-4-22 - Independence - and Inter-dependence

You can listen to this reflection here.

This coming Sunday we get one of the most famous of all of Jesus’ parables, the one he tells in response to the lawyer who asks, “Who is my neighbor?” We’ll examine it in greater depth and in more personal terms in coming days. Today, as we celebrate America’s independence as a nation – and enjoy a day of rest and cook-outs – I will keep it short and more global. Let’s consider this story in light of our past, present and future as a nation “under God, with liberty and justice for all.”

In particular, let’s jump to the end of Jesus’ story, when he asks the lawyer, “Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy,”’ Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

We live in a world in which whole communities, even countries can fall into the hands of robbers. We share a history in which too often we have been the robbers. We also share a legacy of mercy and providing help to those who are injured.

How might we as a nation, and as individuals, more fully live into the character of this outsider who put himself at risk to reclaim, restore and renew the one fallen by the wayside? After all, that is what God has done for us. Might we “go and do likewise?”

At the heart of it lies the truth that until we are all free and equal in opportunity, security, and peace, none of us is free. Until we are willing to “respect the dignity of every human being,” as our baptismal covenant asks us to promise, we will let discord and mistrust rule us rather than the Law of Love. Just like all three of the passersby in Jesus’ story, each one of us has the choice when we see someone in pain – or a community or nation in the grip of tyranny – to stop or walk on, engage or condemn, bring healing or leave someone to die. How will we exercise the choices we do have?

Freedom is God's desire for us - and for all creation. Sometimes we have to be willing to be the outsider to set someone else free to thrive; to embrace our inter-dependence in order to celebrate our independence. Happy Independence Day.