5 Easter 2020

I’ve brought up a story I have about the story of Stephen’s stoning many times. Read the passage in a reflection group and someone said, “I don’t see this as a story of love at all.” I responded by pointing out that he saw his beloved Jesus as he died. The part of the story I don’t usually say is that she wasn’t convinced by my argument.

In order to explain my point of view deeper, I want to talk about the difference between a fixer and a companion.  A priest I knew often said, “Why do we find it so hard to believe that God loves us?” One reason is that many people don’t want a loving companion; they want someone to fix things. And there are many people ready and willing to get in there and try to fix people. In the long run though, trying to fix things doesn’t work.

An obvious example is when someone is dying, say of a terminal illness. A hospice chaplain knows they’re not going to prevent the death. If they’re a fixer they might be tempted to spin some story about the afterlife. I say mythical because Jesus was a lot vaguer about what eternal life is than many people think. If they follow their training, they will simply be a comforting presence, a companion.

Alanon is a 12 step group for friends and families of an alcoholic. A lot of fixers end up in Alanon, where they are often called enablers – enablers don’t just aid in an alcoholic’s drinking, enablers often work to prevent or mitigate the consequences the Alcaholic would otherwise face. “The only way out is through” is a phase in 12 step, acknowledging that whatever pain is behind your drinking, you’ll never get sober if you avoid it. In Alanon enablers learn they have no control over someone else’s drinking. The only thing they can control is their own actions. Fixing just doesn’t work in that situation.  

Many folks want God to be a fixer. They pray for God to come down and grant some miracle that will make their problems go away – or someone else’s problems that they’ve taken on. They are looking for relief and comfort.  The problem is that growth – especially spiritual growth – happens through conflict or challenges. Who feels the need to grow when they’re in their comfort zone?

God of course knows this. I don’t believe God brings misfortune on us to test us. But neither does God spare us. God didn’t spare Stephen – nor did God spare Her Son. And I’ve been realizing that is where the most damaging theologies of the cross come from. Theologies of a cruel God who will torture us for eternity for any time we fail - failure often born out of our own suffering.

God allowed God’s self to suffer through Jesus in solidary of our suffering. God still bears the wounds in Christ. And the risen, still wounded, Jesus promised to always be with us. Jesus promised to be our companion, and asked us to love in the same way. I don’t believe fixing is primarily about love. It’s primarily about easing pressure. To sit with and hold the hand of someone who is suffering is uncomfortable – there is pressure involved – it may even bring up suffering in yourself. And that is love that Jesus modeled for us. 

Jesus also promised us the Spirit. The passage we read in John has been used to increase the suffering of others to an unimaginable degree. Because people are told that if you don’t get what you prayed for it must be YOUR fault.  This is why Luke’s version of this promise is a much better one.

What father among you would hand his son a snake when he asks for a fish? Or hand him a scorpion when he asks for an egg? If you then, who are wicked, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask? And the Holy Spirit is our companion in our suffering and can and does give us the strength to be a companion – to find the words to say or to help us not say anything when silence is needed.

This is the promise of the companion God; The God who wants you to be your best self; The God who suffered in solidarity with us. God has heard the suffering of Her people. God became one of us not to increase our suffering but to be with us in it. 

 

Why Americans Don't Get the Samaritan Parable.

If the Samaritan was an American he would have told the half-dead man that he would get justice for the wounded person and the rest of the story would be about hunting down and killing the bandits. There was a recent People magazine cover featuring a woman and how she escaped from her would be kidnapper and murderer. And all I could think of was how you never hear the story of the ones that don’t escape – because we have no admiration for them, nor frankly, does our culture have any compassion for them.  This is why, I think, you can go into a church and not a single cross will have Jesus’ body on it.

When we say Jesus triumphed over death, we’re being inaccurate. It was God in the first person, commonly called father though mother would suit just as well, it was that person of god who raised Jesus. This marked the victim as favored of God. Jesus’ story is not one of a potential victim that escaped. It was a story of God hearing the cries of the suffering and honoring them above all others.  All kingdoms of all the world will bow to the victim king.

The story of the Good Samaritan is not a story of “everyone is your neighbor,” it’s not about being nice to everyone, it’s an instruction to be neighbor to those in need. It’s also, given the poison of the Protestant work ethic, a call to accept help. A lot of the resentment folks have for the people who use social services is that they themselves are too proud to ask for help. They’ve been brainwashed into thinking poverty is weakness of character.

How people miss that Jesus was champion of the unclean, the stranger, the least of these who he identifies with, is beyond me. In my Bible study when I told the “American” version of the story, someone responded by saying how they were not raised in a church with a “Social Justice” point of view. I let it go but I wanted to scream, “This is not social justice, this IS THE GOSPEL!”

Now certainly, social justice done right is about helping the suffering, however there are also people of the oppressing class that suffer at the hands of their own. Are there degrees of suffering? Yes of course, but I hesitate to limit the term victim to only the oppressed. What’s been really bothering me lately is how victims who find the courage to talk about their sexual abuse are inundated with death threats and other further abuse, while the accused get slaps on the wrist or appointed to high office. 

Now there will be those who say this has always gone on and it’s good that it’s coming out into the light, and in fact, yes this has always gone on, but frankly to me it just seems that the perpetrators are emboldened. In the wake of 2016, there are at least six convicted sex offenders openly running for public office. While I admit we treat sex offenders who have done their time more harshly than other former prisoners, I still think running for office is a sign of emboldening the victimizer.

This is partly why I won’t use the Good Samaritan story as a story about loving your enemies. I mean it is in there given what a Samaritan was to the Israelites listening, but I believe focusing on that obscures the emphasis on the suffering. Christ on the cross is not suffering because we’ve sinned, but rather is suffering in solidarity with all who suffer.

And for those who say a crucifix with a corpus is too morbid, I say Christianity is morbid. It’s uncomfortable; it’s not easy, because it centers the suffering. Our Lord suffered. Not so that we may bring suffering on ourselves in imitation, but rather that we recognize Him in the suffering and don’t cross to the other side of the road.

3.17.19

In a book that largely uses male imagery for God, Jesus compares Himself to a mother hen. This is refreshing, I must admit. Even when the Gospel of John paraphrases a Hymn to Sophia, the feminine aspect of god in the Hebrew scripture, to name what aspect of God became flesh, John masculinizes the hymn. So a straight out feminine comparison from Jesus’ own mouth is welcome indeed.

It is of course, also an image of shielding, an image in both the psalm and the Old Testament passage today. In the past I’ve preached on the dark cloud on the mountain of transfiguration as a calming presence in which to enter lent. Today’s readings, though, present much better imagery. 

Many folks I know have been so wounded by the image of God that will send to hell if you mess up, or even for things that are completely out of your control, that Lent just becomes an exercise in self-flagellation. That is NOT the kind of vulnerability I’ve been talking about. That does not allow for a good relationship with god.

The vulnerability I’m talking about is the kind of vulnerability that comes from resting in the mercy and love of God. To honestly look at one’s behavior, to be willing to feel remorse for deeds and not feel the kind of shame where you think your very self is wrong – is truly vulnerable. Self-loathing, in my experience, actually clouds the mind of truly being able to own your shit. We all shit. Not all of us look at it before we flush.

Keep in mind this lent that God loves you, feels merciful towards you, and will shelter you when you expose yourself to Her. She is not waiting for you to slip up so she can get you. “Tell mommy all about it, I won’t be mad.” An open and contrite heart, God will not despise.  

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.