Lent 1
Ash Wednesday has arrived again. Today, we begin Lent and we gather in worship communities all over the world to observe this day. One of the things I think our non-liturgical brothers and sisters miss out on in not observing the season of Lent is the intentional confrontation with the spiritual journey we travel with Christ towards Easter. For those who make their whole lives intentional in this way, I commend you, but I must admit that in the busy and the crazy and the lazy, sometimes I forget to live life on purpose. There is no time of year that I live life more on purpose than in these 40 days (plus Sundays) leading up to Easter.
This past weekend, I preached the sermon in my church and in doing so, invited the congregation to join me in being transifigured with Jesus. (The text was the Transfiguration, of course.) I offered two things we need to do in order to be practitioners of transfiguration. One, you have to shine brightly the light of Christ. And two, you have to walk the walk of Christ. Specifically, at this time of year, we observe the walk of Christ down from a mountain where his glory was celebrated back into a valley and down a dusty road. He was walking, with a great (though troubling) sense of purpose. He walked towards his own death.
We, in this season of Lent, walk with Jesus towards Easter. We spend time-intentional time-attending to the spiritual disciplines meant to bring us into deeper relationship with God. In doing so, we seek to find some of those things that are getting in the way of letting Christ's light shine fully through our lives.
And it is in this day, Ash Wednesday, that we most readily understand the message of the life of Jesus Christ. God came to humanity in the flesh in order to confront mortality for us. When the pastor touches an ashen finger to your forehead, looks you in the eyes, and says, "From dust you came and to dust you shall return," you cannot help but confront your own human frailty. A couple of weeks ago, a pastor friend of mine told me about an Ash Wednesday early in his ministry. He said his wife brought their baby son to Ash Wednesday service. He'd imposed the ashes upon many foreheads before his wife reached the front of the line and it actually startled him to see his wife and fairly newborn son in front of him. Putting an oily ashen thumb to his son's forehead with the promise of dust and the remembrance of repentance transformed his thinking.
So, Lent 2011, I hope to live life on purpose every single day. I will try my best to see God in everyday. I will try to walk this walk and I will hopefully, in doing these things, try to rinse off some of the grime and dust that has been filtering the light of Christ that should be shining from me.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Does music move you?
I'm going on retreat as a youth volunteer with a group of junior high kids and some of their parents. As we've been preparing for the retreat over the past few weeks, the theme for the weekend started to grow out of several conversations. We're going with "Music in the Mountains." There's nothing much more perfect for me given that music is the one thing I'm not sure I could live without in my life. (I could, but it would be super sad.) As a chaplain in the psych unit, I've asked this question many times in reflection groups: "If you lost your hearing, what are five things you'd want to hear just one more time?" I typically get responses like "my kids laughing" or "my husband saying he loves me." It actually astonishes me sometimes how few people mention music. They often ask me what my five would be.
In no certain order: 1)Schubert's Ave Maria 2)Yo-Yo Ma playing Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major (probably, the Allemande movement in particular, but the whole thing, really) 3)Van Morrison's Moondance 4)The simultaneous sound of waves crashing and wind rustling through the palmettos 5) And probably Ali Farka Toure's Ai Du. Yes, my list is almost entirely music.
Someone once asked me, "Does music move you?" There is no other answer than, absolutely YES.
In no certain order: 1)Schubert's Ave Maria 2)Yo-Yo Ma playing Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major (probably, the Allemande movement in particular, but the whole thing, really) 3)Van Morrison's Moondance 4)The simultaneous sound of waves crashing and wind rustling through the palmettos 5) And probably Ali Farka Toure's Ai Du. Yes, my list is almost entirely music.
Someone once asked me, "Does music move you?" There is no other answer than, absolutely YES.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
...with your sandals on your feet.
It's 2:30 in the morning and I'm wide awake, mostly because of adrenaline and now I wait for it to wear off. A little while ago, I managed to go from asleep in my pajamas to dressed and in a hospital room in another building 8 floors up in less than 6 minutes. When you work in an environment that requires such haste, you learn a little about how to prepare for such an occurrence. So, as my mind marvels at how adrenaline can move you so fast, I am strangely reminded of the first Passover.
Exodus 11:11 - This is how you are to eat it: with your cloak tucked into your belt, your sandals on your feet and your staff in your hand. Eat it in haste; it is the LORD's Passover.
When God's people were instructed to eat the Passover in Egypt, they were told what to eat and how to eat it. The meat needed to be prepared just so, the bread should be unleavened, and they should eat, fully dressed and in a hurry. But, why? Because the day and the time was coming that they would be delivered. They needed to be at the ready, not caught lazy on their heels. As Tom Long once said, if you've got time to wait for bread to rise, you've gotten too comfortable in Egypt. When we gather to eat the meal of the new covenant, the Eucharistic meal, we often remember this meal and this time in our Great Thanksgiving. We remind each other in that meal that God rescued God's people from captivity and that through Jesus Christ we are all made free, delivered from sin and death.
We, as Christians, no longer keep the tradition of Passover and the time of preparation for Passover, but sometimes I wonder if we don't lose something. In Christ, we understand that the once and final sacrifice is complete and the Passover is no longer needed, but sometimes it seems as though we've gotten too comfortable "in Egypt." A couple of weeks ago, I was reading a commentary on the Parable of the Unjust Judge from Luke's gospel. The story goes that a widow petitioned a judge everyday for justice and he would not grant it until he grew weary of her begging. Jesus notes that even the judge can be swayed so how much more quickly will God respond to our prayers than someone who is unjust. The commentary suggested that we think about whether or not we are praying steadily, constantly, everyday for justice, like the widow, or have we reached some level of comfort with injustice. Are we working for the kingdom of God, preparing for it, praying for it? Or we have we kicked off our shoes and said, don't worry, it'll come someday? I don't know...
Exodus 11:11 - This is how you are to eat it: with your cloak tucked into your belt, your sandals on your feet and your staff in your hand. Eat it in haste; it is the LORD's Passover.
When God's people were instructed to eat the Passover in Egypt, they were told what to eat and how to eat it. The meat needed to be prepared just so, the bread should be unleavened, and they should eat, fully dressed and in a hurry. But, why? Because the day and the time was coming that they would be delivered. They needed to be at the ready, not caught lazy on their heels. As Tom Long once said, if you've got time to wait for bread to rise, you've gotten too comfortable in Egypt. When we gather to eat the meal of the new covenant, the Eucharistic meal, we often remember this meal and this time in our Great Thanksgiving. We remind each other in that meal that God rescued God's people from captivity and that through Jesus Christ we are all made free, delivered from sin and death.
We, as Christians, no longer keep the tradition of Passover and the time of preparation for Passover, but sometimes I wonder if we don't lose something. In Christ, we understand that the once and final sacrifice is complete and the Passover is no longer needed, but sometimes it seems as though we've gotten too comfortable "in Egypt." A couple of weeks ago, I was reading a commentary on the Parable of the Unjust Judge from Luke's gospel. The story goes that a widow petitioned a judge everyday for justice and he would not grant it until he grew weary of her begging. Jesus notes that even the judge can be swayed so how much more quickly will God respond to our prayers than someone who is unjust. The commentary suggested that we think about whether or not we are praying steadily, constantly, everyday for justice, like the widow, or have we reached some level of comfort with injustice. Are we working for the kingdom of God, preparing for it, praying for it? Or we have we kicked off our shoes and said, don't worry, it'll come someday? I don't know...
Sunday, September 26, 2010
A New Song
While listening to the Switchfoot song "Your Love is a Song" recently, I remarked to a friend that I love that song because it describes how I sometimes prefer to imagine God's love. Your love is a symphony, all around me, running through me. Your love is a melody, underneath me, running through me. I realize I'm at least a little bit ripping off Rob Bell in this idea. It would be a lie to say that when I saw the video "Rhythm" in the NOOMA series a couple of years ago that it didn't stick with me. But I've gotten stuck on this idea of music as an "image" for God's love for a while. It's like an orchestra. There are different sections, the strings, the brass, the woodwinds, the percussion...all those sections have a part to play, and when those parts are executed perfectly, even alone you can recognize the brilliance. But when you start to put them together, when the parts start to layer on top of one another to create the masterpiece, it takes on a new kind of life.
I was thinking about that tonight at what may seem like the strangest of times. I spent about 2 hours with about 30 complete strangers. I spent almost the whole two hours in silence. When I did speak, it was quietly. Mostly I just listened, and at times I wiped at a tear that welled up in my own eyes. The reason we were all gathered was because I am a chaplain and a member of their family died. He died suddenly and without any warning. There were screams and sobs. There were soft whimpers and barely audible prayers whispered. The whole time, I kept thinking about God's love being like a song. The reason it kept coming to mind was because the sound of that room reminded me of those few minutes before an orchestra performance when the strings section is tuning and warming up. At first the sound is horrible. It sets your teeth on edge and raises the hairs on your arms. They are preparing for a new song.
"New song" is a biblical concept. A little bit of digging will show you that the phrase "new song" comes up more than a couple of times in scripture. And when scripture speaks of this new song, it tends to come alongside God's flipping something on its head. Some sort of condition is changing. Life is changing for good or bad. Change is coming.
Tonight, unfortunately, that family is faced with a new song, not of their desires, but they do face a new life. They will have to deconstruct their old life and reconstruct a new one that fits the new family configuration. I do not understand pain and suffering, and I probably will never find the answers I'm looking for, but I could hear the discordant notes playing and rubbing against each other tonight. My hope and my prayer is that just as the strings start to come into tune and prepare for the song, so will God's love enfold them with God's new song, a song of love and grace and mercy, even in times of grief.
I was thinking about that tonight at what may seem like the strangest of times. I spent about 2 hours with about 30 complete strangers. I spent almost the whole two hours in silence. When I did speak, it was quietly. Mostly I just listened, and at times I wiped at a tear that welled up in my own eyes. The reason we were all gathered was because I am a chaplain and a member of their family died. He died suddenly and without any warning. There were screams and sobs. There were soft whimpers and barely audible prayers whispered. The whole time, I kept thinking about God's love being like a song. The reason it kept coming to mind was because the sound of that room reminded me of those few minutes before an orchestra performance when the strings section is tuning and warming up. At first the sound is horrible. It sets your teeth on edge and raises the hairs on your arms. They are preparing for a new song.
"New song" is a biblical concept. A little bit of digging will show you that the phrase "new song" comes up more than a couple of times in scripture. And when scripture speaks of this new song, it tends to come alongside God's flipping something on its head. Some sort of condition is changing. Life is changing for good or bad. Change is coming.
Tonight, unfortunately, that family is faced with a new song, not of their desires, but they do face a new life. They will have to deconstruct their old life and reconstruct a new one that fits the new family configuration. I do not understand pain and suffering, and I probably will never find the answers I'm looking for, but I could hear the discordant notes playing and rubbing against each other tonight. My hope and my prayer is that just as the strings start to come into tune and prepare for the song, so will God's love enfold them with God's new song, a song of love and grace and mercy, even in times of grief.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Bent
The woman who was bent:
10 On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, 11 and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." 13 Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. 14 Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, "There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath." 15 The Lord answered him, "You hypocrites! Doesn't each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? 16 Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?" 17 When he said this, all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing. - Luke 13:10-17
The UMC's "Right's of Persons with Disabilities":
¶ 162 I) Rights of Persons with Disabilities—We recognize and affirm the full humanity and personhood of all individuals with mental, physical, developmental, neurological, and psychological conditions or disabilities as full members of the family of God.
We also affirm their rightful place in both the church and society. We affirm the responsibility of the Church and society to be in ministry with children, youth, and adults with mental, physical, developmental, and/or psychological and neurological conditions or disabilities whose particular needs in the areas of mobility, communication, intellectual comprehension, or personal relationships might make more challenging their participation or that of their families in the life of the Church and the community.
We urge the Church and society to recognize and receive the gifts of persons with disabilities to enable them to be full participants in the community of faith. We call the Church and society to be sensitive to, and advocate for, programs of rehabilitation, services, employment, education, appropriate housing, and transportation. We call on the Church and society to protect the civil rights of persons with all types and kinds of disabilities.
From The Book of Discipline of The United Methodist Church - 2008. Copyright 2008 by The United Methodist Publishing House. Used by permission.
You know, Luke's 13th chapter presents a very uncomfortable moment for me. A few weeks ago, the pastor at the church where I attend preached on this particular text. As he began his sermon, I began looking around uneasily. I felt a tightness in my chest that I soon realized came from the fact that I was holding my breath. See, the woman sitting next to me in the congregation might actually be described as a woman who is bent. I do not know what her specific disability is, but I can see the braces fitted to her legs and I can see that she cannot stand up straight and that her posture is directed towards the floor. I was uneasy because I felt pretty certain the sermon, in short, was going to say "Straighten up. Jesus straightens us up." It did, and yes, it's true, but I was secretly terrified about the subtext-- mainly--that if you are somehow short of what society defines as normal, there is something wrong with you. No, I do not believe that is the message of Luke 13 nor do I believe that was the message from the pulpit that morning, but so often we come across people and institutions who treat disability as significantly less.
I have grown to love a particular liberatory theology of a professor from my seminary, the late Nancy Eiseland. In her book "The Disabled God" she challenges the notion of the Imago Dei as she envisions God riding around in a "puff wheelchair" in heaven...an unsettling image for a lot of people. In her book, Eiseland writes, "Who is the one we remember in the Eucharist? This is the disabled God who is present at the Eucharist table—God who was physically tortured, arose from the dead and is present in heaven and on earth, disabled and whole... Christ’s resurrection offers hope that our nonconventional, and sometimes difficult, bodies participate fully in the imago Dei…God is changed by the experience of being a disabled body."
My prayer is that we will remember that we are all created in the image of God (and should, perhaps, expand our understanding of what that means), and that we should re-member those members of the body of Christ who we seem to cast aside as less because they make us feel uncomfortable alongside them. My thought is that we should cast off the social understanding of "disability" and of "normal." My read of the bent woman in Luke 13 is that Jesus does something remarkable for her and for all of us. No matter what has your eyes cast to the floor, be it physical, emotional or spiritual, Jesus Christ incorporates you into his perfectly imperfect, scarred and pierced body, not as a sort of member, but fully.
10 On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, 11 and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." 13 Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God. 14 Indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, the synagogue ruler said to the people, "There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath." 15 The Lord answered him, "You hypocrites! Doesn't each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or donkey from the stall and lead it out to give it water? 16 Then should not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan has kept bound for eighteen long years, be set free on the Sabbath day from what bound her?" 17 When he said this, all his opponents were humiliated, but the people were delighted with all the wonderful things he was doing. - Luke 13:10-17
The UMC's "Right's of Persons with Disabilities":
¶ 162 I) Rights of Persons with Disabilities—We recognize and affirm the full humanity and personhood of all individuals with mental, physical, developmental, neurological, and psychological conditions or disabilities as full members of the family of God.
We also affirm their rightful place in both the church and society. We affirm the responsibility of the Church and society to be in ministry with children, youth, and adults with mental, physical, developmental, and/or psychological and neurological conditions or disabilities whose particular needs in the areas of mobility, communication, intellectual comprehension, or personal relationships might make more challenging their participation or that of their families in the life of the Church and the community.
We urge the Church and society to recognize and receive the gifts of persons with disabilities to enable them to be full participants in the community of faith. We call the Church and society to be sensitive to, and advocate for, programs of rehabilitation, services, employment, education, appropriate housing, and transportation. We call on the Church and society to protect the civil rights of persons with all types and kinds of disabilities.
From The Book of Discipline of The United Methodist Church - 2008. Copyright 2008 by The United Methodist Publishing House. Used by permission.
You know, Luke's 13th chapter presents a very uncomfortable moment for me. A few weeks ago, the pastor at the church where I attend preached on this particular text. As he began his sermon, I began looking around uneasily. I felt a tightness in my chest that I soon realized came from the fact that I was holding my breath. See, the woman sitting next to me in the congregation might actually be described as a woman who is bent. I do not know what her specific disability is, but I can see the braces fitted to her legs and I can see that she cannot stand up straight and that her posture is directed towards the floor. I was uneasy because I felt pretty certain the sermon, in short, was going to say "Straighten up. Jesus straightens us up." It did, and yes, it's true, but I was secretly terrified about the subtext-- mainly--that if you are somehow short of what society defines as normal, there is something wrong with you. No, I do not believe that is the message of Luke 13 nor do I believe that was the message from the pulpit that morning, but so often we come across people and institutions who treat disability as significantly less.
I have grown to love a particular liberatory theology of a professor from my seminary, the late Nancy Eiseland. In her book "The Disabled God" she challenges the notion of the Imago Dei as she envisions God riding around in a "puff wheelchair" in heaven...an unsettling image for a lot of people. In her book, Eiseland writes, "Who is the one we remember in the Eucharist? This is the disabled God who is present at the Eucharist table—God who was physically tortured, arose from the dead and is present in heaven and on earth, disabled and whole... Christ’s resurrection offers hope that our nonconventional, and sometimes difficult, bodies participate fully in the imago Dei…God is changed by the experience of being a disabled body."
My prayer is that we will remember that we are all created in the image of God (and should, perhaps, expand our understanding of what that means), and that we should re-member those members of the body of Christ who we seem to cast aside as less because they make us feel uncomfortable alongside them. My thought is that we should cast off the social understanding of "disability" and of "normal." My read of the bent woman in Luke 13 is that Jesus does something remarkable for her and for all of us. No matter what has your eyes cast to the floor, be it physical, emotional or spiritual, Jesus Christ incorporates you into his perfectly imperfect, scarred and pierced body, not as a sort of member, but fully.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Eyes Opened
John 9
1As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" 3"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. 4As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. 5While I am in the world, I am the light of the world." 6Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man's eyes. 7"Go," he told him, "wash in the Pool of Siloam" (this word means Sent). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing. 8His neighbors and those who had formerly seen him begging asked, "Isn't this the same man who used to sit and beg?" 9Some claimed that he was. Others said, "No, he only looks like him." But he himself insisted, "I am the man." 10"How then were your eyes opened?" they demanded. 11He replied, "The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see." 12"Where is this man?" they asked him. "I don't know," he said.
13They brought to the Pharisees the man who had been blind. 14Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man's eyes was a Sabbath. 15Therefore the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. "He put mud on my eyes," the man replied, "and I washed, and now I see." 16Some of the Pharisees said, "This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath." But others asked, "How can a sinner do such miraculous signs?" So they were divided. 17Finally they turned again to the blind man, "What have you to say about him? It was your eyes he opened." The man replied, "He is a prophet." 18The Jews still did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they sent for the man's parents. 19"Is this your son?" they asked. "Is this the one you say was born blind? How is it that now he can see?"
20"We know he is our son," the parents answered, "and we know he was born blind. 21But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we don't know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself." 22His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for already the Jews had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Christ[a] would be put out of the synagogue. 23That was why his parents said, "He is of age; ask him."
24A second time they summoned the man who had been blind. "Give glory to God,[b]" they said. "We know this man is a sinner." 25He replied, "Whether he is a sinner or not, I don't know. One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!" 26Then they asked him, "What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?" 27He answered, "I have told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?" 28Then they hurled insults at him and said, "You are this fellow's disciple! We are disciples of Moses! 29We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we don't even know where he comes from." 30The man answered, "Now that is remarkable! You don't know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. 31We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly man who does his will. 32Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. 33If this man were not from God, he could do nothing." 34To this they replied, "You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!" And they threw him out.
35Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?" 36"Who is he, sir?" the man asked. "Tell me so that I may believe in him." 37Jesus said, "You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you." 38Then the man said, "Lord, I believe," and he worshiped him. 39Jesus said, "For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind." 40Some Pharisees who were with him heard him say this and asked, "What? Are we blind too?" 41Jesus said, "If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains.
My family comes from a small town, not too far outside Charleston. Charleston is a pretty diverse city so you’d think that being close would affect us out in the country, but really, we were pretty much the Deep South, and we were somewhat secluded and homogenous. Growing up in a place like that means you aren’t exposed to a wide range of experiences that the world has to offer. The world is only as big as the high school football stadium. I grew up thinking that everything I needed to know about life I could have learned in our town. I grew up thinking I wasn’t ignorant of anything. And then I moved the 45 miles to Charleston for college. I’ll never forget the kind of culture shock of my first semester. I didn’t know that my whole life I’d been blind to a whole world around me. I met students from all over the country and all over the world. I met people with different political ideologies, religious leanings, and sexual orientations.
I’ll say, while this entrée into a broader world was eye opening, it wasn’t easy. I wasn’t looking for change. I wasn’t looking for my eyes to be opened. And when they were, I didn’t always like what I saw. When my world suddenly expanded, what I saw sometimes wasn’t all that pleasant. Because with different ideologies, leanings, and orientations comes just that— difference. Because my eyes were opened, I was stretched and pulled and questioned and challenged.
And so it was with the man blind from birth when Jesus came into his life. Jesus and his disciples were walking along and encountered this man, a man who had never seen the world around him. He had never had sight and did not even know what he was missing, probably. In fact, he wasn’t even looking to be healed. He didn’t seek Jesus out. Jesus came into this man’s life and opened his eyes, and before he knew what hit him, he began to be pressed and stretched and questioned and challenged. When this man’s eyes were opened, what he saw was a lot of ugliness. He saw the infighting among his neighbors. He saw the power struggles that existed in his community, power struggles that set the Pharisees at an uneasy posture. He saw his parents hauled in for questioning and he saw them sort of throw him under the bus. They said, “Don’t ask us. Ask him. We aren’t a part of this.”
This man who was once blind and left alone to his own business, now sees and what he sees is a community of turmoil. For me, at first glance, I’m almost sad Jesus didn’t leave this man alone, let him be happy in his limited world. After all, I was happy growing up in my small town, where all I knew outside of my little area was on the news and, thus, far removed. My world was limited, but I didn’t really feel its limits. When I looked around, most everyone was like me so there wasn’t much conflict. Now I have been exposed to a much bigger world, and I have seen its ugliness, its conflict, and its confusion. In this man’s world, when he was blind, people left him alone. He didn’t have to make choices, answer questions about what he believes. He didn’t have to answer any questions about who he follows and what his theological grounding is. But Jesus came along, opened his eyes, and opened him up to a world of questions, questions without answers that will ever satisfy everyone.
But rather than responding in anger, rather than looking back to the days of his blindness, this man confesses Jesus as Lord. The Pharisees ask him who Jesus is and how it is that he has performed this miracle. His response: I don’t know all of that, but I do know this. My life is changed and now I see. And when he met Jesus again, because his eyes had been opened, he recognized him and witnessed to his identity when he said, “Lord, I believe.”
Like the blind man confessed, I must confess what I know. I don’t know how exactly God works or what God looks like, but I do know this. In everything I see, I see God. God is at work, ever-present. God comes to us before we know that’s what we need, opening our eyes and moving with us. And what I know is that as we continue to move through this world, we see more and more, experience more and more. Some of it is hard. Some of it challenges us. It’s different and it’s other. But what we see when we recognize God’s overwhelming presence is the beauty that comes to us when our eyes are opened. We recognize that the world is much bigger than our backyard and this God-breathed, grace-filled world is beautiful, even when it looks ugly from our outsider’s view.
What all this means is that we cannot be content to stay inside this church building, comfortable with the walls between us and the rest of the world. God has come to us, pouring grace and mercy over us, opening our eyes to God’s work and to God’s world. We must push outside these comfortable walls to see, to really see. As we do this, let us go out and confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. And amidst all of what we see as conflict and difference let us embrace each other and celebrate our graceful difference because we are all one in Christ Jesus.
1As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" 3"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. 4As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. 5While I am in the world, I am the light of the world." 6Having said this, he spit on the ground, made some mud with the saliva, and put it on the man's eyes. 7"Go," he told him, "wash in the Pool of Siloam" (this word means Sent). So the man went and washed, and came home seeing. 8His neighbors and those who had formerly seen him begging asked, "Isn't this the same man who used to sit and beg?" 9Some claimed that he was. Others said, "No, he only looks like him." But he himself insisted, "I am the man." 10"How then were your eyes opened?" they demanded. 11He replied, "The man they call Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I went and washed, and then I could see." 12"Where is this man?" they asked him. "I don't know," he said.
13They brought to the Pharisees the man who had been blind. 14Now the day on which Jesus had made the mud and opened the man's eyes was a Sabbath. 15Therefore the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. "He put mud on my eyes," the man replied, "and I washed, and now I see." 16Some of the Pharisees said, "This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath." But others asked, "How can a sinner do such miraculous signs?" So they were divided. 17Finally they turned again to the blind man, "What have you to say about him? It was your eyes he opened." The man replied, "He is a prophet." 18The Jews still did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they sent for the man's parents. 19"Is this your son?" they asked. "Is this the one you say was born blind? How is it that now he can see?"
20"We know he is our son," the parents answered, "and we know he was born blind. 21But how he can see now, or who opened his eyes, we don't know. Ask him. He is of age; he will speak for himself." 22His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for already the Jews had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Christ[a] would be put out of the synagogue. 23That was why his parents said, "He is of age; ask him."
24A second time they summoned the man who had been blind. "Give glory to God,[b]" they said. "We know this man is a sinner." 25He replied, "Whether he is a sinner or not, I don't know. One thing I do know. I was blind but now I see!" 26Then they asked him, "What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?" 27He answered, "I have told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?" 28Then they hurled insults at him and said, "You are this fellow's disciple! We are disciples of Moses! 29We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this fellow, we don't even know where he comes from." 30The man answered, "Now that is remarkable! You don't know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. 31We know that God does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly man who does his will. 32Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. 33If this man were not from God, he could do nothing." 34To this they replied, "You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!" And they threw him out.
35Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?" 36"Who is he, sir?" the man asked. "Tell me so that I may believe in him." 37Jesus said, "You have now seen him; in fact, he is the one speaking with you." 38Then the man said, "Lord, I believe," and he worshiped him. 39Jesus said, "For judgment I have come into this world, so that the blind will see and those who see will become blind." 40Some Pharisees who were with him heard him say this and asked, "What? Are we blind too?" 41Jesus said, "If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains.
My family comes from a small town, not too far outside Charleston. Charleston is a pretty diverse city so you’d think that being close would affect us out in the country, but really, we were pretty much the Deep South, and we were somewhat secluded and homogenous. Growing up in a place like that means you aren’t exposed to a wide range of experiences that the world has to offer. The world is only as big as the high school football stadium. I grew up thinking that everything I needed to know about life I could have learned in our town. I grew up thinking I wasn’t ignorant of anything. And then I moved the 45 miles to Charleston for college. I’ll never forget the kind of culture shock of my first semester. I didn’t know that my whole life I’d been blind to a whole world around me. I met students from all over the country and all over the world. I met people with different political ideologies, religious leanings, and sexual orientations.
I’ll say, while this entrée into a broader world was eye opening, it wasn’t easy. I wasn’t looking for change. I wasn’t looking for my eyes to be opened. And when they were, I didn’t always like what I saw. When my world suddenly expanded, what I saw sometimes wasn’t all that pleasant. Because with different ideologies, leanings, and orientations comes just that— difference. Because my eyes were opened, I was stretched and pulled and questioned and challenged.
And so it was with the man blind from birth when Jesus came into his life. Jesus and his disciples were walking along and encountered this man, a man who had never seen the world around him. He had never had sight and did not even know what he was missing, probably. In fact, he wasn’t even looking to be healed. He didn’t seek Jesus out. Jesus came into this man’s life and opened his eyes, and before he knew what hit him, he began to be pressed and stretched and questioned and challenged. When this man’s eyes were opened, what he saw was a lot of ugliness. He saw the infighting among his neighbors. He saw the power struggles that existed in his community, power struggles that set the Pharisees at an uneasy posture. He saw his parents hauled in for questioning and he saw them sort of throw him under the bus. They said, “Don’t ask us. Ask him. We aren’t a part of this.”
This man who was once blind and left alone to his own business, now sees and what he sees is a community of turmoil. For me, at first glance, I’m almost sad Jesus didn’t leave this man alone, let him be happy in his limited world. After all, I was happy growing up in my small town, where all I knew outside of my little area was on the news and, thus, far removed. My world was limited, but I didn’t really feel its limits. When I looked around, most everyone was like me so there wasn’t much conflict. Now I have been exposed to a much bigger world, and I have seen its ugliness, its conflict, and its confusion. In this man’s world, when he was blind, people left him alone. He didn’t have to make choices, answer questions about what he believes. He didn’t have to answer any questions about who he follows and what his theological grounding is. But Jesus came along, opened his eyes, and opened him up to a world of questions, questions without answers that will ever satisfy everyone.
But rather than responding in anger, rather than looking back to the days of his blindness, this man confesses Jesus as Lord. The Pharisees ask him who Jesus is and how it is that he has performed this miracle. His response: I don’t know all of that, but I do know this. My life is changed and now I see. And when he met Jesus again, because his eyes had been opened, he recognized him and witnessed to his identity when he said, “Lord, I believe.”
Like the blind man confessed, I must confess what I know. I don’t know how exactly God works or what God looks like, but I do know this. In everything I see, I see God. God is at work, ever-present. God comes to us before we know that’s what we need, opening our eyes and moving with us. And what I know is that as we continue to move through this world, we see more and more, experience more and more. Some of it is hard. Some of it challenges us. It’s different and it’s other. But what we see when we recognize God’s overwhelming presence is the beauty that comes to us when our eyes are opened. We recognize that the world is much bigger than our backyard and this God-breathed, grace-filled world is beautiful, even when it looks ugly from our outsider’s view.
What all this means is that we cannot be content to stay inside this church building, comfortable with the walls between us and the rest of the world. God has come to us, pouring grace and mercy over us, opening our eyes to God’s work and to God’s world. We must push outside these comfortable walls to see, to really see. As we do this, let us go out and confess that Jesus Christ is Lord. And amidst all of what we see as conflict and difference let us embrace each other and celebrate our graceful difference because we are all one in Christ Jesus.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Happy Birthday, Holy Spirit
Prayer is a funny thing. I wish I prayed more. I wish I was better at it. I wish I knew the right words or I wish I could focus my thoughts better. I wish the world around me didn't bleed into my prayers. I am reminded of the anonymous Russian pilgrim who set out to fulfill the Pauline command to pray without ceasing. He wandered the country looking for some wise person to tell him how this could become accomplished. And a piece of advice he received was to pray the Jesus prayer (Jesus, have mercy on me, a sinner) over and over again, 3000 times a day, 6000 times a day, and so on. I think about that and can't help but think of the tragic character Franny in Salinger's Franny and Zooey who went literally crazy with the prayer on her lips. And then I go back to the pilgrim who learned the most important lesson about praying that prayer over and over again. It was that once the prayers of his lips became the prayers of his heart, then he would pray without ceasing. I love that lesson, and I try to think of the pilgrim (and not Franny) when I reflect on it. The prayer of my heart, not just the prayer of my lips.
Ah, yes! If only it were that simple...
I wish I could spend some time earnestly learning how to pray better, stronger, more authentically. I wish everything I did was so pointed towards God that everything I did was a prayer to God. But it's not the case, not for me. I simply don't know how. I will struggle with it, struggle with my thoughts and feelings, and my communication with the divine, and I will search for the words and the right heart and all that forever. Which, then, leads me to the title of this blog. Happy Birthday, Holy Spirit! Today is Pentecost, 50 days after Easter. Today is the day we celebrate the Holy Spirit depended on those gathered. The Holy Spirit which was sent as an advocate, sent to show us that God is still here, God is still with us. God has not left us alone. Even as we struggle, God knows and God hears. And what's even better is that God intercedes for us when we aren't strong enough to do or say or feel or be as we ought. My most favorite, most comforting, passage in all of scripture comes from Romans 8: "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God" (v.26-27). Sighs, sighs too deep for words.
Praise God for the coming of the Holy Spirit so that men and women will prophesy and the old shall dream dreams and the young shall have visions. Praise God for the Holy Spirit who intercedes for us when we can't for ourselves. Come, Holy Spirit, come.
Ah, yes! If only it were that simple...
I wish I could spend some time earnestly learning how to pray better, stronger, more authentically. I wish everything I did was so pointed towards God that everything I did was a prayer to God. But it's not the case, not for me. I simply don't know how. I will struggle with it, struggle with my thoughts and feelings, and my communication with the divine, and I will search for the words and the right heart and all that forever. Which, then, leads me to the title of this blog. Happy Birthday, Holy Spirit! Today is Pentecost, 50 days after Easter. Today is the day we celebrate the Holy Spirit depended on those gathered. The Holy Spirit which was sent as an advocate, sent to show us that God is still here, God is still with us. God has not left us alone. Even as we struggle, God knows and God hears. And what's even better is that God intercedes for us when we aren't strong enough to do or say or feel or be as we ought. My most favorite, most comforting, passage in all of scripture comes from Romans 8: "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God" (v.26-27). Sighs, sighs too deep for words.
Praise God for the coming of the Holy Spirit so that men and women will prophesy and the old shall dream dreams and the young shall have visions. Praise God for the Holy Spirit who intercedes for us when we can't for ourselves. Come, Holy Spirit, come.
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