3.3.19

Stories like these gave me the impression that Jesus was a grumpy impatient dude, which fit with my childhood impression of the Father being a vengeful asshole. The thing of course I missed at the time was the fact that Jesus came down from the mountain after talking to heavenly residents about his future trial, torture and death. Which, y’know would make anyone grumpy.

Lately though, my impression of Jesus has become much more lighthearted in general than previously. I’ve come to believe for the most part, Jesus really gets a kick out of the oddballs of this world; which explains why Peter is His favorite. I’ve got a serious conversation to have today, let me be sure to bring Peter, cause he makes me laugh.

As a side note, it’s the story of Zacchaeus that really got me thinking this way. Jesus sees a short guy up in a tree and says, “I gotta have dinner with this dude!” He’s just delighting in this guy’s total lack of decorum. And of course this all fits with God picking the unlikely people for his prophets. Moses stuttered, David was a runt, Jonah was seemingly the worst candidate you could possibly pick to preach repentance to the Nineveh.

“Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man” are some of the first words Peter ever said to Jesus. Jesus’s response? “Don’t be afraid.” Then Jesus tells Peter that he will be Jesus’ prophet. As the Gospels progress it’s pretty much Peter that says the goofiest things, It’s not really spread out among the 12. Now in Luke and John’s Gospel, you’d expect this as both Gospels would want to downplay Peter in favor of Paul (Luke wrote Acts remember) and John’s beloved disciple.

However most of the goofy sayings can be found in Mark, which is actually thought to be in the tradition of what Peter taught. Which means Peter is remarkably humble and vulnerable in admitting his own faults. And as I’ve been hammering into your heads, vulnerability is a major path to following Jesus.

We’re not even sure if Jesus heard Peter make his goofy remark about tents. I’m convinced Jesus would have been terribly amused by it. Instead God descends in a cloud and says, “Shhhh, listen.” Which reminds me of the Martha and Mary story. The better part is not being busy but listening to Jesus. 

Beyond the gist of what Jesus is talking to with Moses and Elijah, we and presumably Peter, John and James, do not get details. Right after the healing at the bottom of the mountain though, Jesus tells the disciples about His impending passion.

Jesus gets to the bottom of the mountain and hears some dude ranting about his only son. “You wanna talk only Son and what that means, Pal? I can tell you ALL about it.” Even though He asks the question, Jesus has a pretty good idea how long he has to put up with this shit.

Now in Mark’s version the kid’s father says the famous lines, “I believe, help my disbelief,” and he later councils the disciples on how to get rid of this kind of demon. This is consistent with the petitioner’s faith having much to do with the success of a miracle. Luke omits all this, though, so that it sounds like Jesus’ frustration is with His disciples. Possibly to contrast this with Paul’s unshakable faith.

Mark’s version hammers home the vulnerability needed. Help my unbelief. Admitting our short comings, literally willing to expose where we fall short of who we want to be, is a very good attitude to bring into Lent. Don’t be afraid, Jesus tells us, it’s the arrogance of the kid’s father in demanding of Jesus what His disciples couldn’t do, that upsets Jesus. Jesus responds to the vulnerability of the dad admitting the weakness of his faith. Chances are Jesus will find your faults amusing, not things that prevent you from being His prophet.    

2.3.19

There’s a certain morbidity to the Christian religion, which has been criticized by some and embraced by others, including those with Goth sensibilities. Simeon comes off as morbid in a couple different ways. He basically says “thank you God now I can die in peace,” a prayer many Christians repeat nightly before bed. He’s also well aware that the messiah will be opposed and bring down people as well as lift them up. But morbid or not Simeon knows some things need to die. Perhaps even the idea that women are not fit to enter the presence of God until 40 days after they give birth.

Quite honestly, I had no idea until quite recently that the purification mentioned in verse 22 referred to Mary’s purification. In fact if Jesus had not been the first born, he would not have been brought to the Temple. Mary would have to go every time she gave birth though. By the way, women were not considered fit to be in the presence of God for 66 days if they had a girl, over twice as long as having a boy.

Of course the irony of this all is that God was covered in this unclean blood Mary shed when she gave birth. Our nativities always show the babe in swaddling clothes all cleaned up, but the birth was a fully human birth, with blood and screaming and pain. And the incarnation made all of that sanctified.  As we read in Hebrews, “Because He himself was tested by what He suffered; He is able to help those who are being tested.” While yes, that’s no doubt a reference to the crucifix, and well, most of us have no memory of the trauma of birth, God did not shy away from this unclean blood.

Jesus even commanded His disciples to drink His blood, clearly stating that blood was now clean. Jesus says that he did not abolish the law, but fulfilled it. Much of the law was completed. The Christ event purified all creation. There was no longer separation from God. And of course, those who were invested in maintaining the purity sacrifices opposed this. Their inner thoughts were indeed revealed.

A sword will pierce your own soul are Simeon’s final words to Mary. The seven sorrows of Mary are even depicted as swords in her heart. But I wonder if Simeon is referring to Mary’s moment of weakness where she tries to take charge of Jesus thinking that He is out of His mind. Her innermost thoughts, at least for a time, opposed the Christ.

There is a human tendency, I think, to begrudge people their freedom. I had to go through months of purification, now you’re telling me these young mothers never will have to? That’s so not fair! Hence parables like the Prodigal son, or the laborers who all get paid the same. How grateful we are that not all our inner thoughts get revealed.

There’s a saying though, that we’re as sick as our secrets. The seal of the confessional is a truly sacred thing, a sacrament that is out of favor but I believe very useful. We get the chance to voice our innermost thoughts, our secrets, bring them to the light, and not let them fester into sickness.

And so before he gave Mary her warning, Simeon spoke his innermost thoughts aloud. I’ll repeat it as it appears in the Compline service, a translation I prefer to the one read in the Gospel tonight: Lord, you now have set your servant free to go in peace as you have promised; For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see: A Light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people Israel.

Jesus’ light was too bright for many to see, and many oppose it still to this day. For Simeon, seeing the light was the culmination of his life. It was time for him to pass on. Not because he was a priest as some suggest, which would mean the service he just preformed was now obsolete. Not because he was no longer useful or needed, but because his life was fulfilled.

For those who pray compline it’s the culmination of our day. A chance to ask ourselves, where did we see the light of Jesus during our day? To reflect on how distance from God only exists in the minds of those who oppose this light. And for today, to reflect on the freedom that light brought to women. I wish the new testament was a lot more explicit about this freedom.  But it’s there, in the blood of Christ.

Imagine a young Chamorro man – Do you even know who the Chamorro people are? They’re the indigenous people of Guam, a U.S. Territory that is probably as significant to the U.S. as Israel was to the Roman Empire. Imagine such a man, born semi-illegitimately, claiming to be the fulfillment of prophecy in his home-town. Imagine him further, brought forward to the U.S. authorities by his own people on charges that he was proclaiming himself king. Imagine even further his rag-tag followers proclaiming him the son and heir of the creator of the universe, with authority to judge all people. Imagine the U.S. executing him in a thoroughly degrading way. Now imagine you actually believe he is the second person of the Trinity made flesh.

Would you not wonder what God was up to? I mean the chance of such a man being known to us seems near impossible. Why take the chance that only a few people would know of the incarnation? Why would God let Herself be so humble, and then so disgraced? What happened to dramatic gestures like parting the Red Sea and drowning Pharaoh’s army? I’d like to suggest that this move on God’s part is a bigger deal than the overthrow of Rome would have been.

Empires come and go, whole civilizations come and go, even the U.S. won’t last forever, assuming it even survives the current situation. Rome fell, but who was responsible for its fall is just a matter for historians. In the midst of the second gulf war, a friend asked me what Jesus would do in Iraq. She was torn, but trying to reconcile her understanding of Jesus with her belief that Bush Jr. was acting out of his Christian faith. I answered; I think you know what Jesus would do in Iraq. He’d heal the sick, feed the hungry, and forgive sins.

I’m sure I’m not alone in wishing God would do something about the horrifying things that are happening right now. But you see, that’s asking God to fix a certain time and a certain place. Even if God did that, the results sooner or later would be lost to history. How would such a thing help people sixteen centuries from now?

What I believe can help us now, and will help our 37^th century descendants, is what Paul refers to as clothing with great honor the members of the body that we think less honorable and treating our less respectable members with great respect. For through the incarnation God has arranged humanity, giving the greater honor to the inferior members.

Especially the members the U.S. government considers inferior, and that list is getting longer by the day. I’m sure it includes the indigenous people of Guam. In becoming an undesirable like them, God gave the captives and the oppressed the greatest honor.

There’s a translation of the Bible I like that reads tonight’s last verse as, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled even as you heard it being read.” It emphasizes the present tense of Jesus’ claim. And it echoes the present tense of Mary’s political assertion in the Magnificat. God HAS cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the humble. Jesus, the Word of God made flesh, has proclaimed the release of captives and let the oppressed go free, here now, by becoming humble, by being a captive and by being free even while being oppressed.

This is why I like crosses to have Jesus’ dead or dying body on them. Why every depiction of the resurrected Christ should be shown to have the wounds of the stigmata. God, who heard the cry of Her suffering people, now knows our suffering first hand, and is with us in ours.

The poor you will always have with you, whichever Empire or World Power is in charge, and Jesus will always be with you in the poor, and all the other “least of these.” Not only is Christ with you, Jesus IS YOU in those moments of your own oppression, in your moments of poverty and bad health, in your most humble and vulnerable moments. He will be that for your 37^th century descendants as well.

Does our young Chamorro man make more sense now? Can you see that it wasn’t really much of a gamble on God’s part as the Spirit was with the rag-tag followers of Jesus and the message was Good News for the suffering? God was not only on the side of the victim, but God is each and every victim for all time. This is God’s Glory, a Glory much more profound than if God had become the victor over a fleeting empire.

12.2.18

Advent, the most intentionally “both and” season, begins with the apocalypse. In our anticipation of the celebration of the incarnation, we are at the same time, awaiting the final days before the fulfillment of the Kingdom. And we acknowledge that the coming glory belongs to vulnerable, as our God became a vulnerable baby and ended His mortal life vulnerable on the cross.

In the spirit of vulnerability I’ll confess that one verse from today’s reading troubles me greatly. Essentially Christ says that the end times will come within the lifetime of those present. The reason I think this is something Jesus actually said is that the Gospels were written after Paul’s letters. Paul initially thought the resurrection of all faithful was in process, but eventually explains why it wasn’t happening now even as the faithful that died were remaining dead. If Jesu hadn’t said such a thing, I doubt it would be added by the Gospel writers, especially Luke, who traveled with Paul.

Was Jesus wrong? Was the second coming delayed or cancelled? Did something prevent it? Are there not enough Christians that actually follow his commandments to make it worth his effort? Those saints that Paul said were sleeping have been sleeping a damn long time. Now none of this shakes my faith, since my faith is rooted in the presence of God and not just the words. But it does make me wonder what else Jesus might have gotten wrong.

As I was reading this passage again in preparation for this Sunday, it struck me, didn’t St. Steven, the first martyr, see something like the vision Jesus said the current generation would see? Aquinas calls it the beatific vision, to see God face to face. As Steven was dying, he saw his beloved Lord, God, friend and co-heir there with him. In Steven’s most vulnerable moment, the vulnerable God was with him in love.

We’re a culture that wants to fix things, change things, make things happen, we’re a Martha culture. As a result we’re terribly uncomfortable with vulnerability. Mary, by contrast, quietly anoints Jesus for his upcoming burial, letting him know, without words that she will be there with Him in His death. In those terrifying moments of knowing we can’t stop tragedy from happening, all we can do is sit silently with the suffering ones.

I’ve been very very angry about a great many things of late, and haven’t been terribly good at preventing that anger from coming out sideways at people who don’t deserve it. And much of that anger is about things I can have no effect on. Like the kidnapped children our government is keeping in concentration camps. The Holy Innocents of our time. But that anger is a defense against the pain I feel in solidarity with those kids. This situation hits me where I’m vulnerable.

And love, my friends, is inevitably vulnerable. With the exception of the mama bear moment when you can lift a car to protect your babies, love makes you vulnerable. No one has the knowledge and opportunity to hurt you as much as a loved one.

I had a difficult time earlier this month explaining the whole ‘love your enemies’ thing to a youngster. I think now, it’s about remaining vulnerable in the face of true threat. Not to become a martyr, but rather to be open to God. To be able to hear that small still voice when our instincts are to fight or flight. And then to trust God will let us know what to say or do.

This is all we can really ask of God. God isn’t going to swoop down and protect us in our most vulnerable moments anymore that God rescued Steven. We can ask, and can often receive god’s guidance in how to survive the things that take place. For many surviving the holidays can be hard enough. More importantly though, ask God for guidance on how to love well.

Take time this season to practice loving Jesus, whether in infant form, or crying at the grave of Lazarus, or grieving his cousin John, or being beaten and flogged, or being a wise spiritual teacher, especially to those the scribes would not come near, and in doing this we will now that a loved one is always near and will be with us in the end.     

10.21.18

Some of you are familiar with the priesthood of all believers, an interpretation of the letter Hebrews as saying we all have direct access to God through Christ and priests are no longer needed as intercessors. Christ’s sacrifice was the final sacrifice for all. The Temple is now obsolete, as Christ’s body is now the temple. And so Isaiah is fulfilled, since “When you make his life an offering for sin, through him the will of the LORD shall prosper.”

Fr. Alexander Schmemann wrote that, the ‘original’ sin is not primarily that humankind has ‘disobeyed’ God; the sin is that we ceased to be hungry for God and for God alone, ceased to see our whole life depending on the whole world as a sacrament of communion with God. The only real fall is a noneucharistic life in a noneucharistic world.

The cup Jesus drank and the baptism of the cross was a shocking and confusing way to bring us to a Eucharistic life. A life where we understand everything is of God and in God and it is our privilege to offer everything back to God; a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving for the whole of creation.

This reminds me of a story about some student who were worried that their Rabbi had not been seen all day, so finally they went to his room and found him sitting up in bed. The Rabbi told them: "This morning, as every morning, I awoke and immediately said the prayer upon arising: I thank You, living and eternal King, Who has returned my soul into me with compassion – great is Your faithfulness! And then I stopped as the words hit me. I thank God? I…thank…God? Students, do you realize what a privilege this is, to commune with the Almighty? I realized the power of this statement! And I have been sitting here pondering the greatness of this ever since!"

Speaking of greatness, let’s see if we can find wonder in Jesus’ words, the way the Rabbi found wonder in his daily prayer. “Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.” We’re so used to these words, that, like the cross, we can’t understand how truly mid blowing such a statement was. Let’s for a moment, try to forget any interpretations of this you’ve heard in the past. Forget any ways these words have been used to keep people in their place.  Forget the imperialism of helping, the ways in which we help people by assuming what they need rather than finding out what they want.

Let us ponder this like a Koan, a Buddhist form of trying to free your mind. “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” is perhaps the most famous. To be great you must be a servant, to be first you must be a slave.  Now a Koan is to be meditated on over time, not to be answered right away, so do please ponder this contradictory puzzle, and see what you find.

The part that isn’t a Koan, though, what Jesus is very clear about, is that we are not to Lord over others or be tyrants. This brings us once again to my dear Saint Ignatius’ Two Standards. Contemplate a battlefield with Satan in one camp and Jesus in another. On Satan’s flag (standard meaning flag in this exercise) are the temptations of Wealth, Prestige and Pride. On Crist’s flag are the defenses against those temptations, Poverty, Contempt for Prestige and Humility. I think the point though, is not to embrace Poverty, Contempt for Prestige and Humility for their own merits, but rather to balance things out. When god created the world, God said it was good. It is we who divided it into good and bad, and so created imbalance.

What if, by perfect, the author of Hebrews meant balanced? What if balanced means waking up stunned by the wonder of a relationship to God? Open to the sacred world God has given us. Might we be ready to live Eucharistic lives in a Eucharistic world? All things come from you O lord, and of your own have we given.

By Ransom, did Paul mean Bride Price?

A sermon for Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost Year B (with Ephesians replacing Hebrews)

Genesis 2:18-24

Psalm 8

Ephesians 5:25-33

Mark 10:2-16

Mawwage, Mawwage is what bwings us togethew today…”

Rowan Williamson in his essay, The Body’s Grace, spoke about what sexual sin is. He defines desire for another as including the desire that they desire you. This makes one vulnerable on a tragi-comic level. Sexual sin arises when one tries to control, deny or bypass this vulnerability. One way to do this is to not think of people as human but as sexual objects. We’ve been hearing a lot about in the last few weeks as well as the last few years if we’ve been paying attention.

There’s a way in which Christians fool themselves into thinking that marriage somehow fixes this problem and all sex within marriage is sinless. And while marriage may afford some confidence in mutual desire, it does not guarantee it. Truthfully, marriage for love (read desire) is a very recent thing in the West and does not exist in many places in this world. It certainly wasn’t what marriage was bout in Jesus’ time.

In Jesus time marriage was very different and there are a few things of which we need to take note. While monogamous marriage was common practice, it was not required by Jewish law. There was perhaps social pressure form monogamy being the standard in the Empire as a whole. It was most likely common practice because grooms often could not afford more than on wife. For there was a bride price.

In Jesus time women were beginning to be recognized as persons with their own thoughts and feelings. Jewish marriage practices still reflected the patriarchal view of women as domestic help and the father should be compensating for loosing that labor. Betrothal was the initial financial arrangement between families and usually happened before the bride was old enough to reproduce. A contract was drawn, a tradition still followed to this day. Marriage did not happen in the synagogue or temple, but in the bedroom once the bride was of childbearing age. There was a formal procession to the banquet hall, often at night, think of the wise and foolish virgins parable, the bedroom being a private room near the banquet hall, commonly at the groom’s father’s House.

I think most of us know that divorce in Jesus’ time, left a woman with no means of support. If that were the only reason for Jesus’ words, why would he bring up Genesis? One possibility is that he was suggesting the equality of men and women. Before Eve arrived, Adam was referred to as gender neutral in Hebrew. It was only after they were split that male and female indicators were used. (The word traditionally translated as rib, actually means side or flank.) Two equal halves of one whole. To support this idea, and for other possibilities we need to turn to Paul.

Paul instructs husbands to love their wives as themselves, thereby including women into Jesus’ second commandment, equating women with neighbors. While the equality of women was a powerful statement for the time, it’s still relevant today as recent events reveal. For Paul, however, Genesis as a model for marriage had a much deeper and mystical relevance. It is a model for Christ and the Church.

I recently read an article that suggested when Paul uses the Greek word we translate as ransom, he is metaphorically referring to the bride price for the Church. The Greek word literally means buying back from, re-purchasing what was previously forfeited or lost. I used to think the word itself implied captive or slave, but it doesn't in and of itself. In this light though, the last supper makes a bit more sense. Drinking blood was pretty much forbidden in Jewish custom, however if the blood is the bride price, then it truly seals the new covenant, the wedding contract.

On the cross, Christ paid a bride price for all of us, and we become heirs through marrying the son. Personally I see this as a model of polygamy; we are each one of us brides of Christ. Traditionally, it’s thought to be a model of monogamy, the collective Church seen as one person. Either way you see it, it makes our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving significantly less morbid, possibly even a bit erotic. A true celebration of the most significant relationship there is.

For this is a marriage of love. As a marriage of love, it does find us in a tragi-comic vulnerability. To be honest, as a pastor, I feel an echo of this vulnerability. A desire for us to love one another as Christ loved us. That is but an echo, however, not on the scale of vulnerability when we stand naked before God’s love. Let us now, as we approach the banquet, and drink our bride price, let go of any control, denial or attempts to bypass our vulnerability. Think on the idea that the love marriage between Christ and the Church is perhaps the first one ever. Let no man tear it asunder.