You’d think I’d have been better prepared, given our gospel reading this week – ready to get Water Daily out despite having family visiting for the holiday – but I didn’t manage it yesterday. I apologize – and hope you were too busy with your own celebrations or too full of turkey to notice! Here’s one more for this week, a day late and a dollar short.
I must also confess that I haven’t been eager to reflect on this Advent reading. It's both somewhat frightening, with its references of suffering, and too cosmic in scope to grasp. It is an apocalyptic vision of the end of all that we know:
“But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”
I saw Interstellar yesterday. It’s actually quite a good backdrop for considering Jesus’ words about the end of the world. In Christopher Nolan’s sweeping narrative, the end of this world is coming quickly, due not to cosmic forces but from the natural consequences of humanity’s damage to our environment. The sun is often darkened by fierce dust storms in a world with not enough water, and dirt piles up everywhere, including in children’s lungs. Humanity’s extinction is considered inevitable; the only question is whether we will suffocate, or starve due to food shortages brought on by blighted crops in the nitrate-rich atmosphere.
A small group of scientists is seeking other habitable planets to colonize in order to preserve humankind, and much of the film takes place in outer space, vast, limitless, mysterious.
“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.”
In Nolan’s vision, salvation comes from humankind cracking the cosmic secrets of space-time-gravity to access a new habitat. Our Christian vision of salvation has a similar theme – but its movement is from the cosmic to earthly. In our sweeping story it is God, the author of the mysteries of the universe, who transcended them to come into our dying world, to plant a seed of healing among us. Christ’s redemption includes the restoration of the universe – and what we might call a re-colonization, as the “elect” are gathered from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven. The point of these apocalyptic passages is to remind us where our Christ-story ultimately ends – not in the manger, not on the cross, not even with the empty tomb, but with the New Heavens and a New Earth.
When we pray, “Thy Kingdom come,” that is what we are inviting into being. Today you might pray very slowly through the Lord’s Prayer, and pause to reflect on that phrase when you come to it. How does that petition open up the rest of the others in the prayer Jesus taught his followers to pray? What does it open up in you?
“The world is about to turn,” goes the chorus to Canticle of the Turning, a hymn setting of the Song of Mary. That is worth staying awake for.
11-26-14 - Travel Day
The day before Thanksgiving – busiest travel day of the American year. And on the East Coast, we’re expecting a snow storm. Fun and funner! And, though I hope no one’s experience feels like the end of the world, the stresses of travel are not a bad metaphor for the Advent season.
Whether you are hitting the road (or rails or skies) yourself, or awaiting some else’s arrival, chances are you face a lot of waiting and anticipation. Waiting in a terminal when a plane or train is delayed is never fun; even if we have something to occupy our time, every announcement and movement tends to draw our attention. We scan the boards and strain to hear the loudspeaker between sentences of our book or email. When will it come? When will it end?
Waiting for God to show up – cataclysmically, at the end of the ages, or here and now, in the midst of a crisis – can also feel like that. Though we often look back on events and say that God’s timing was just right, in the moment it can feel like we’re waiting forever.
And then there’s anticipation, which is waiting with a twist. When we’re really excited about something that is going to happen soon, we often say “I can’t wait!” When we’re little, Advent seems to be about waiting for Christmas, with its huge build-up. As we get older, we learn that Advent is really about waiting to celebrate the birth of Christ, the inbreaking Word of God, come to take up residence in us – and we know that, as wonderful as that story is, as fully as we have embraced it, it’s still incomplete, because we’re still waiting for the fullness of that revelation of God to be completed. We’re still too surrounded by pain and evil to think we’ve seen the end of the story. We’re still waiting and anticipating.
Is there anything we can do to be more content in both our waiting and our anticipation? Yes – and it happens to be the one thing most philosophers and sages suggest we do to live more fulfilled lives: be present. Now. Focus on where you are in this moment, not the next, not the one that just passed. Now.
If we were to do that in a terminal, we might find ourselves focusing on the people around us. Focusing on our feelings of waiting and not knowing when we will leave or our loved ones arrive. Focusing on our breath and our life, on our gifts and our thoughts, on what we love, on who we love, and who loves us. This is a way to transcend the waiting and receive an opportunity to tune our awareness to the breath of those around us, to the pulse of the community, to the yearnings of the universe. That’s not wasted time… that’s a form of prayer, of connecting to the Holy. It is Advent life, a Travel Day.
Eternity is an forever of Now. Learning to wait with anticipation while fully content will serve us well in this life and in the life to come. It creates in us a capaciousness and a serenity in which others can seek shelter. It creates space in which the Holy Spirit can dwell and bless others.
I hope today is a wonderful day for you, wherever you are and wherever you are going. I pray you will be amazed at the peacefulness, even joy, you can experience whatever the weather and the traffic. They are temporary – you are eternal. Already.
You... Are.
Whether you are hitting the road (or rails or skies) yourself, or awaiting some else’s arrival, chances are you face a lot of waiting and anticipation. Waiting in a terminal when a plane or train is delayed is never fun; even if we have something to occupy our time, every announcement and movement tends to draw our attention. We scan the boards and strain to hear the loudspeaker between sentences of our book or email. When will it come? When will it end?
Waiting for God to show up – cataclysmically, at the end of the ages, or here and now, in the midst of a crisis – can also feel like that. Though we often look back on events and say that God’s timing was just right, in the moment it can feel like we’re waiting forever.
And then there’s anticipation, which is waiting with a twist. When we’re really excited about something that is going to happen soon, we often say “I can’t wait!” When we’re little, Advent seems to be about waiting for Christmas, with its huge build-up. As we get older, we learn that Advent is really about waiting to celebrate the birth of Christ, the inbreaking Word of God, come to take up residence in us – and we know that, as wonderful as that story is, as fully as we have embraced it, it’s still incomplete, because we’re still waiting for the fullness of that revelation of God to be completed. We’re still too surrounded by pain and evil to think we’ve seen the end of the story. We’re still waiting and anticipating.
Is there anything we can do to be more content in both our waiting and our anticipation? Yes – and it happens to be the one thing most philosophers and sages suggest we do to live more fulfilled lives: be present. Now. Focus on where you are in this moment, not the next, not the one that just passed. Now.
If we were to do that in a terminal, we might find ourselves focusing on the people around us. Focusing on our feelings of waiting and not knowing when we will leave or our loved ones arrive. Focusing on our breath and our life, on our gifts and our thoughts, on what we love, on who we love, and who loves us. This is a way to transcend the waiting and receive an opportunity to tune our awareness to the breath of those around us, to the pulse of the community, to the yearnings of the universe. That’s not wasted time… that’s a form of prayer, of connecting to the Holy. It is Advent life, a Travel Day.
Eternity is an forever of Now. Learning to wait with anticipation while fully content will serve us well in this life and in the life to come. It creates in us a capaciousness and a serenity in which others can seek shelter. It creates space in which the Holy Spirit can dwell and bless others.
I hope today is a wonderful day for you, wherever you are and wherever you are going. I pray you will be amazed at the peacefulness, even joy, you can experience whatever the weather and the traffic. They are temporary – you are eternal. Already.
You... Are.
11-25-14 - When Are We Getting There?
Chances are a lot of parents on long car trips to visit family for Thanksgiving this week are going to hear these words, in less than dulcet tones: “When are we going to get there?” or their 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 soon? 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 cruel. 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. I wonder how many even think Christ will return, though it remains an article of faith and creeds. 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 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 the season of getting ourselves ready, we might take some time this week to examine our state of “readiness” for a radical change of status. This might raise our anxiety levels, as we often assume such a change would be unpleasant – and Jesus’ imagery of stars falling and a darkened sun 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.
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 soon? 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 cruel. 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. I wonder how many even think Christ will return, though it remains an article of faith and creeds. 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 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 the season of getting ourselves ready, we might take some time this week to examine our state of “readiness” for a radical change of status. This might raise our anxiety levels, as we often assume such a change would be unpleasant – and Jesus’ imagery of stars falling and a darkened sun 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.
11-24-14 - Lessons from the Turkey
Who wants to talk about the end of the world during Thanksgiving week?
Who wants to be told to “Keep Awake!” in the one guaranteed, nap-allowing four-day weekend in our ever-more-jammed national calendar? How will we engage Advent texts this week? At least, during this half of the week, when we’re preparing homes for houseguests or preparing to travel ourselves, preparing shopping lists, preparing pies, preparing turkeys, pre…
Wait a minute. What’s that word? Preparing?
Isn’t that the quintessential Advent word? Prepare?
Prepare ye the way for the Lord? Okay, maybe this won’t be so tough. We’ll just have to be creative and mash up our holidays a little before we mash our sweet potatoes.
We might take a spiritual lesson or two from preparing a turkey for Thanksgiving Dinner – and no, I’m not going to compare the turkey’s sacrifice to Jesus’. Tempting, but no. What I will do is invite us to think about the things we do to get a turkey ready to be feasted upon, and see how those might be applicable to our spiritual growth.
First, we buy the turkey. We have decisions to make about what kind – fresh, organic, frozen. We don’t expect the turkey to plop into our lap – we select it. I suggest we be as intentional about making choices to grow spiritually as we do about selecting our turkey.
We prep the turkey – we wash it (baptism? repentance?). We might brine it in salt water - Jesus did say his followers were to be like salt for the world, tenderized, full of flavor…
On the big day, we get up early to get that thing ready for the oven. What if we regularly got ourselves up early to get ready for the world, spending some of our prep time in prayer and quiet with God?
Next we oil or butter the outside of the turkey so it shines with a nice glow as it bakes. In the same way, we as Christ-followers can be anointed with the oil of the Holy Spirit, to shine with joy whatever our circumstances.
And we stuff that bird full of good things that help make it moist and flavorful. So we might stuff ourselves full of holy-making ingredients… the Holy Spirit, the Word of God, worship with others, prayer, ministry, contemplation, the sacraments. All these things make us tender and flavorful too, more conscious as disciples.
Then we roast the bird… we allow heat to transform it into something we can consume. I would like to think we do that as Christians too – really allow the heat of the Spirit to get to us, to transform us so we become more useful to the people around us. (I realize I’m skating close to cannibalism in this metaphor, but we are called to give ourselves away…).
And while the bird is roasting, we baste it with juices, frequently, so it doesn’t dry out. Our regular immersion in worship and spiritual practices are meant to serve the same function, to keep us well-oiled and limber. If you feel dried out as a Christian, ask for more basting!
That might be a good prayer for us today.
If we can be as intentional about our spiritual lives as we are about our Thanksgiving turkeys, I have no doubt God will feed many, many people through us.
Here endeth the metaphor! Gobble, gobble…
Who wants to be told to “Keep Awake!” in the one guaranteed, nap-allowing four-day weekend in our ever-more-jammed national calendar? How will we engage Advent texts this week? At least, during this half of the week, when we’re preparing homes for houseguests or preparing to travel ourselves, preparing shopping lists, preparing pies, preparing turkeys, pre…
Wait a minute. What’s that word? Preparing?
Isn’t that the quintessential Advent word? Prepare?
Prepare ye the way for the Lord? Okay, maybe this won’t be so tough. We’ll just have to be creative and mash up our holidays a little before we mash our sweet potatoes.
We might take a spiritual lesson or two from preparing a turkey for Thanksgiving Dinner – and no, I’m not going to compare the turkey’s sacrifice to Jesus’. Tempting, but no. What I will do is invite us to think about the things we do to get a turkey ready to be feasted upon, and see how those might be applicable to our spiritual growth.
First, we buy the turkey. We have decisions to make about what kind – fresh, organic, frozen. We don’t expect the turkey to plop into our lap – we select it. I suggest we be as intentional about making choices to grow spiritually as we do about selecting our turkey.
We prep the turkey – we wash it (baptism? repentance?). We might brine it in salt water - Jesus did say his followers were to be like salt for the world, tenderized, full of flavor…
On the big day, we get up early to get that thing ready for the oven. What if we regularly got ourselves up early to get ready for the world, spending some of our prep time in prayer and quiet with God?
Next we oil or butter the outside of the turkey so it shines with a nice glow as it bakes. In the same way, we as Christ-followers can be anointed with the oil of the Holy Spirit, to shine with joy whatever our circumstances.
And we stuff that bird full of good things that help make it moist and flavorful. So we might stuff ourselves full of holy-making ingredients… the Holy Spirit, the Word of God, worship with others, prayer, ministry, contemplation, the sacraments. All these things make us tender and flavorful too, more conscious as disciples.
Then we roast the bird… we allow heat to transform it into something we can consume. I would like to think we do that as Christians too – really allow the heat of the Spirit to get to us, to transform us so we become more useful to the people around us. (I realize I’m skating close to cannibalism in this metaphor, but we are called to give ourselves away…).
And while the bird is roasting, we baste it with juices, frequently, so it doesn’t dry out. Our regular immersion in worship and spiritual practices are meant to serve the same function, to keep us well-oiled and limber. If you feel dried out as a Christian, ask for more basting!
That might be a good prayer for us today.
If we can be as intentional about our spiritual lives as we are about our Thanksgiving turkeys, I have no doubt God will feed many, many people through us.
Here endeth the metaphor! Gobble, gobble…
11-21-14 - Can You See Me Now?
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?
It can be very easy, when we try to wrap our minds around this vision Jesus lays out, to get into “us” and “them” thinking. If we are 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 that we are often on the receiving end of someone else’s giving… sometimes the very people we think we are caring for.
A few years ago, my congregation had a wonderful ministry among people who were homeless in the south end of Stamford. It started with a monthly healing service, which turned into a weekly bible study at the 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 gave them out to a group that hung out there 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 we went, after we offered prayer, the leader said, “I’ve got a cold. Would you pray for me?” And 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, and Christ was discernible in all of us. Jesus invites us to find him in people to whom we offer love. Let's not forget 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.
We might pray today to be given the faith vision to see Jesus in unlikely people. And we might ask for the Holy Spirit to make Christ visible in us, and for the grace to become more transparent. And we might thank Jesus for having invited us to be his family too.
I found myself thinking this week of 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 cell 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 "cell network" that has no end.
It can be very easy, when we try to wrap our minds around this vision Jesus lays out, to get into “us” and “them” thinking. If we are 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 that we are often on the receiving end of someone else’s giving… sometimes the very people we think we are caring for.
A few years ago, my congregation had a wonderful ministry among people who were homeless in the south end of Stamford. It started with a monthly healing service, which turned into a weekly bible study at the 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 gave them out to a group that hung out there 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 we went, after we offered prayer, the leader said, “I’ve got a cold. Would you pray for me?” And 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, and Christ was discernible in all of us. Jesus invites us to find him in people to whom we offer love. Let's not forget 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.
We might pray today to be given the faith vision to see Jesus in unlikely people. And we might ask for the Holy Spirit to make Christ visible in us, and for the grace to become more transparent. And we might thank Jesus for having invited us to be his family too.
I found myself thinking this week of 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 cell 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 "cell network" that has no end.
11-20-14 - Jesus' Family
There isn't much room for the idea of universal salvation in this vision Jesus paints. 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? Eternal fire, 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, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.” 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 only have to serve “one” of the least of these. I’m guessing the folks in the "cursed" line couldn’t 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 Jesus 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 therefore inheritors of the kingdom of God, everything in heaven and earth.
This parable is about more than “doing good,” or “acts of charity,” or taking care of the “less fortunate.” It goes deeper – 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 even help because they don’t believe they are any better, maybe just more fortunate. Or they offer care because, like Mother Teresa with the lepers of Calcutta, they actually 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? Do you ever feel related to people in extreme need? I go to the local men's shelter regularly when my congregation brings supper, and I pray with the guys, and 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, what does that make us?
Behind Door #2? Eternal fire, 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, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.” 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 only have to serve “one” of the least of these. I’m guessing the folks in the "cursed" line couldn’t 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 Jesus 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 therefore inheritors of the kingdom of God, everything in heaven and earth.
This parable is about more than “doing good,” or “acts of charity,” or taking care of the “less fortunate.” It goes deeper – 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 even help because they don’t believe they are any better, maybe just more fortunate. Or they offer care because, like Mother Teresa with the lepers of Calcutta, they actually 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? Do you ever feel related to people in extreme need? I go to the local men's shelter regularly when my congregation brings supper, and I pray with the guys, and 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, what does that make us?
11-19-14 - Royalty Disguised
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, and enjoy an eternity of love at a banqueting table that never ends.
Only, 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, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the 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.
We often go looking 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 low-lifes – and, finally, in a god-forsaken killing ground, the “place of the skull.” The only time we see Jesus in a palace 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 usually seek him in my prayer imagination, as that’s often 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 he 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?
What happens when we seek to love Jesus in an “unsuccessful person,” is 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, if we keep it up, they become stronger and transformed into the very image of a “successful person.” Just like you and me.
Only, 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, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the 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.
We often go looking 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 low-lifes – and, finally, in a god-forsaken killing ground, the “place of the skull.” The only time we see Jesus in a palace 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 usually seek him in my prayer imagination, as that’s often 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 he 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?
What happens when we seek to love Jesus in an “unsuccessful person,” is 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, if we keep it up, they become stronger and transformed into the very image of a “successful person.” Just like you and me.
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