Epiphany 3A
Isaiah 9:1-4; Psalm 27:1, 4-9; 1 Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23
I still vividly remember, some months after our family had moved to another city, that our 8-year old son said balefully one day: “I want to go home!” His friends, his school, his comfort level were in a different place. The Psalmist reminded me of him when he, too, cried pitifully: “One thing I ask of the Lord; this I seek: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life…and contemplate his Temple” (Psalm 27:4.
I suppose it wasn’t the place so much as the people. We get so attached. Jesus had such magnetism that he only had to say “Come follow me and I will make you fishers of men,” and Andrew and Peter left their nets. In the first letter to the Corinthians, Paul talks of people who were attached to him, or to Apollos or to Cephas or even to Christ.
Isaiah envisioned a time when Zebulon and Naphtali would be taken back from the grasp of Tiglath-Pileser who had conquered these lands, and the people could feel once again they were home and the North and South—the land of the twelve tribes of Jacob--could be one nation again. For Isaiah, the new King Hezekiah might have been the one to bring this about. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus went down from the high country of Nazareth to the lands of Zebulon and Naphtali, to Capernaum by the Sea of Galilee which is north of Nazareth. And Matthew in hindsight knows that in doing so he fulfilled the dream of Isaiah that these two territories would “see a great light.”
The light was there, in the message: “the kingdom of heaven has come near.” The hard part was to understand that this was NOT the kingdom everyone had in mind, that as our life’s days gallop toward their end, we can never go home again, but we can BE at home; we can contemplate his Temple—because we have learned it is not a brick and mortar edifice.
We always make a big thing out of the first apostles leaving everything and following Jesus. But we forget what they gained—that fellowship, that friendship, that sense of purpose and of meaning for their lives. I keep remembering that touching passage in Matthew 17, after Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James and John, Peter said: “Lord it is good for us to be here,” and wanted to make three tents so they could stay for a long time. Home at last!
Some say that in Jewish tradition, Zebulon had a “symbiotic relationship” with Issachar, perhaps providing for them financially so they could study the Torah. They certainly had tribal allegiance; they fought side by side on the battlefield, and in that vivid passage from Judges 4, Deborah had Barak call an army together to pursue Sisera, they were willing to give their lives.
As we look at our own roles, we see how tribal we still are; pillars of our community, citizens of our country, strong advocates for our parties, willing to work hard and even die for our families, staunch members of our professional associations and unions, willing to go to bat for fellow employees, serving our church in its numerous initiatives to care for the needy. We may be feminists, club members, card-carrying associates, hobbyists, belongers to internet groups and fierce Face book friends.
But, again, the hard part is to hear Paul in 1 Corinthians cautioning against division because of these tribal belongings and affiliations. Think wider and bigger, he seems to be saying. [In Christ],”there can be neither Jew nor Greek, there can be neither bond nor free, there can be no male and female; for ye all are one” (Galatians3:28). Our attachment is to the God of Jesus Christ. Our home is in Him.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Commentary on Lectionary for January 16, 2011
Epiphany 2A
Isaiah 49:1-7; Psalm 40:1-11; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; John 1:29-34
The New Interpreter’s Study Bible says that 1 Cor. 1:9 indicates that “the trustworthiness of God guarantees that God is on the believers’ side” (p. 2039). As I watched the Rose Bowl this year, until I found out that Texas Christian University was a Disciples of Christ University, I was playfully and sarcastically wondering if the players were told in the locker room that God was on their side and the other team was evil to be vanquished. After I looked up TCU and found out they were a Disciples of Christ University, my prejudice and assumption shifted: Disciples would never hold that opinion of their opponents! Note that in both cases, I really had NO idea of what was said in the locker room to motivate the players.
With all of the college bowl games, the playoffs and the upcoming Super Bowl, many people must be praying for God to be on their side. Very little blood will be shed, although injuries are common. In ancient days and modern wars, football teams are and were analogs for armies and on battlefields blood flows freely and people (mostly young as those kids on the gridiron) die. Each army hopes that God is on their side.
Second Isaiah knew that God was on his side. He believed that God had called him from the womb; that God nominated him as His servant. So He was going to lead Israel to victory. Jacob (whose name was changed to Israel) would win. Moreover, the Lord says this is “too light a thing...to restore the preserved of Israel: I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles…” (Is. 49: 6). And so the task gets bumped up from saving a nation to saving the world!
The Psalmist knew that God was on HIS side. If he could be patient, he would come out on top. In fact, God would set his feet upon a rock; he would draw him “up from the desolate pit.”
John’s Gospel has Jesus being silent and John pointing to him as the Son of God: “After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” John takes a back seat, builds up his cousin, acknowledges his better, and knows from listening to the Sprit who will lead to victory.
It turns out that God is on EVERYONE’S side. Isaiah, the Servant to Come, John the Baptist, the Psalmist, Jesus all worked to bring about the peaceable kingdom. It turns out we are all chosen, you and me, too, to “set the captives free” and to exit whatever captivity we are in to resettle our kingdom, which has been devastated by wars and greed and neglect. If we are disciples of this God en-fleshed in Jesus and follow His way, then we are called to victory in this battle to transform our world into His peaceable kingdom.
Isaiah 49:1-7; Psalm 40:1-11; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; John 1:29-34
The New Interpreter’s Study Bible says that 1 Cor. 1:9 indicates that “the trustworthiness of God guarantees that God is on the believers’ side” (p. 2039). As I watched the Rose Bowl this year, until I found out that Texas Christian University was a Disciples of Christ University, I was playfully and sarcastically wondering if the players were told in the locker room that God was on their side and the other team was evil to be vanquished. After I looked up TCU and found out they were a Disciples of Christ University, my prejudice and assumption shifted: Disciples would never hold that opinion of their opponents! Note that in both cases, I really had NO idea of what was said in the locker room to motivate the players.
With all of the college bowl games, the playoffs and the upcoming Super Bowl, many people must be praying for God to be on their side. Very little blood will be shed, although injuries are common. In ancient days and modern wars, football teams are and were analogs for armies and on battlefields blood flows freely and people (mostly young as those kids on the gridiron) die. Each army hopes that God is on their side.
Second Isaiah knew that God was on his side. He believed that God had called him from the womb; that God nominated him as His servant. So He was going to lead Israel to victory. Jacob (whose name was changed to Israel) would win. Moreover, the Lord says this is “too light a thing...to restore the preserved of Israel: I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles…” (Is. 49: 6). And so the task gets bumped up from saving a nation to saving the world!
The Psalmist knew that God was on HIS side. If he could be patient, he would come out on top. In fact, God would set his feet upon a rock; he would draw him “up from the desolate pit.”
John’s Gospel has Jesus being silent and John pointing to him as the Son of God: “After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.” John takes a back seat, builds up his cousin, acknowledges his better, and knows from listening to the Sprit who will lead to victory.
It turns out that God is on EVERYONE’S side. Isaiah, the Servant to Come, John the Baptist, the Psalmist, Jesus all worked to bring about the peaceable kingdom. It turns out we are all chosen, you and me, too, to “set the captives free” and to exit whatever captivity we are in to resettle our kingdom, which has been devastated by wars and greed and neglect. If we are disciples of this God en-fleshed in Jesus and follow His way, then we are called to victory in this battle to transform our world into His peaceable kingdom.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Commentary on Lectionary for January 9, 2011
Third Sunday after Christmas: Baptism of Jesus
Isaiah 42:1-9; Psalm 29; Acts 10:34-43; Matthew 3:13-17
Some churches will celebrate the Epiphany today, although the traditional date for its celebration is on January 6th. And there is much magic to the idea of these three wise men from the east following a star, bringing their symbolic gifts and evading the machinations of the paranoid king. Some families have waited until January 6 to place the three wise men and their camels in their crèches under the Christmas tree. As the tradition developed, the wise men became kings, depicted with crowns and adding to the manger story by offering homage to this new little king of kings.
These readings for the Baptism of Jesus continue to make it very clear that when we use the word “King” in connection with Jesus, we are talking about quite a different concept from what our reading about kings in history would lead us to expect.
A sardonic indication about what a different kind of king Jesus will be, is immediately apparent in Matthew 12:1 in that Jesus doesn’t want anyone to broadcast who he is. Long before Jesus lived, in the first of the servant songs in Isaiah, the prophet tells of a person upheld by God who will “bring forth justice to the nations,” but who “will not cry or lift up his voice or make it heard in the street” (Is. 42:1-2). Matthew, in chapter 12, paraphrases this very passage from Isaiah and applies it to Jesus. Now what kind of a king does not want his voice heard? Does not want his power acknowledged? Does not want obeisance and obedience?
It has to be someone who is totally comfortable with who he is, who doesn’t need the trappings of wealth or power to shore up his identity. It has to be someone who is in touch with the Spirit of God, is inebriated with God’s breath, and is confident that he can breathe this same life into others, causing them to live, to be free like prisoners walking out of jail, to see like blind people who have recovered their sight (Is. 42:5-7.
Psalm 29 celebrates this kind of kingship. The voice of the Lord thunders. The psalm is full of storm imagery. If we can imagine what it would be like to see a tornado twist trees and tear off their tops or uproot them outright; If we know how lightening can light a forest fire that will clear acres. If we can read about tsunamis taller than buildings; then we can understand that all we have done to make ourselves feel at home on this earth and to be comfortable, can be taken away in an instant. Our theories and explanations of how things work are like heavenly beings that we create to serve our security needs. But only one being is worthy of our whole trust. Only one will be there for us when all else fails, and it is the Lord. And THAT’S kingship!
In his last speech in Acts, Peter speaks of the power of Jesus. It was, he says, the power to do good and to heal “all who were oppressed by the devil” (Acts 10:38). God was sending a message through Jesus: it was a message of peace (Acts 10:36). And Peter has come to understand that this message was for everyone, not just Jews.
In his baptism as related by Matthew, Jesus accepts his role as someone the Spirit was going to work through to be a reconciler and a peacemaker. He let himself be used for this purpose, God’s purpose, and so can we.
Isaiah 42:1-9; Psalm 29; Acts 10:34-43; Matthew 3:13-17
Some churches will celebrate the Epiphany today, although the traditional date for its celebration is on January 6th. And there is much magic to the idea of these three wise men from the east following a star, bringing their symbolic gifts and evading the machinations of the paranoid king. Some families have waited until January 6 to place the three wise men and their camels in their crèches under the Christmas tree. As the tradition developed, the wise men became kings, depicted with crowns and adding to the manger story by offering homage to this new little king of kings.
These readings for the Baptism of Jesus continue to make it very clear that when we use the word “King” in connection with Jesus, we are talking about quite a different concept from what our reading about kings in history would lead us to expect.
A sardonic indication about what a different kind of king Jesus will be, is immediately apparent in Matthew 12:1 in that Jesus doesn’t want anyone to broadcast who he is. Long before Jesus lived, in the first of the servant songs in Isaiah, the prophet tells of a person upheld by God who will “bring forth justice to the nations,” but who “will not cry or lift up his voice or make it heard in the street” (Is. 42:1-2). Matthew, in chapter 12, paraphrases this very passage from Isaiah and applies it to Jesus. Now what kind of a king does not want his voice heard? Does not want his power acknowledged? Does not want obeisance and obedience?
It has to be someone who is totally comfortable with who he is, who doesn’t need the trappings of wealth or power to shore up his identity. It has to be someone who is in touch with the Spirit of God, is inebriated with God’s breath, and is confident that he can breathe this same life into others, causing them to live, to be free like prisoners walking out of jail, to see like blind people who have recovered their sight (Is. 42:5-7.
Psalm 29 celebrates this kind of kingship. The voice of the Lord thunders. The psalm is full of storm imagery. If we can imagine what it would be like to see a tornado twist trees and tear off their tops or uproot them outright; If we know how lightening can light a forest fire that will clear acres. If we can read about tsunamis taller than buildings; then we can understand that all we have done to make ourselves feel at home on this earth and to be comfortable, can be taken away in an instant. Our theories and explanations of how things work are like heavenly beings that we create to serve our security needs. But only one being is worthy of our whole trust. Only one will be there for us when all else fails, and it is the Lord. And THAT’S kingship!
In his last speech in Acts, Peter speaks of the power of Jesus. It was, he says, the power to do good and to heal “all who were oppressed by the devil” (Acts 10:38). God was sending a message through Jesus: it was a message of peace (Acts 10:36). And Peter has come to understand that this message was for everyone, not just Jews.
In his baptism as related by Matthew, Jesus accepts his role as someone the Spirit was going to work through to be a reconciler and a peacemaker. He let himself be used for this purpose, God’s purpose, and so can we.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Commentary on Lectionary for January 2, 2011
Second Sunday after Christmas
Jeremiah 31:7-14; Psalm 147:12-20; Ephesians 1:3-14; John 1:1-18
My wife and I, our grown son and daughter, our son-in-law and our two-week old granddaughter celebrated Christmas Eve in Buffalo, New York, attending a service at Trinity Episcopal Church on Delaware Avenue.
In an unfamiliar city, I had a difficult time finding a parking place, then turned wrong and headed toward the nearest steeple, thinking it was Trinity. But people were coming OUT of the church, and I asked one of them why she was heading in the wrong direction. She looked at me strangely, and muttered something about leaving the church. But my family was in there, so I resolutely headed toward the entrance out of which more and more people were exiting. I assumed that the service was so crowded they were being denied admittance!
Only when I got to the doorway did I see the sign stating it was St. Louis Catholic Church, NOT Trinity Episcopal. How embarrassing, I thought, as my wife dialed my cell phone to see what was taking me so long!
When I finally got to Trinity, the procession was ready to go down the aisle of a darkened church. Some children in costume were gathered around a furry donkey-looking creature that I assumed was on wheels and they would pull it down the aisle. But then I turned left and saw the Llama, who was rolling its eyes. I quickly turned and looked back at the donkey, and his ears were definitely twitching. They were alive! And the donkey was processing down the center aisle with a crowd of children to dramatize the birth of Jesus. The Llama was a camel-stand-in, because he came later when the youthful narrators talked about the Magi and three youngsters proudly acted their roles as wise men with gifts.
Everyone was invited to communion. If my two-week old granddaughter was on solid food, I think she would have been invited to partake of the bread and wine. At one point in the service many of the children in the congregation brought wrapped presents up to the altar. The pastor made the point these gifts were not for him, but for poor families in the community. Some of them were in big boxes and looked expensive. I saw a skateboard in plastic!
As I approached the altar for communion, an elderly woman was pushing a man about the same age in a wheelchair.
So, you might ask, what does any of this have to do with the readings today? --Just that a number of them make the point that God is calling people together. Jeremiah portrays God as calling his people back from exile, and not only the healthy, but the poor and lame and pregnant are also being called. Psalm 147 says that Yahweh “gathers together the outcasts of Israel” (Ps. 147:2).
And here we all were in Trinity Episcopal—we from Cleveland and others from who knows where. We, the old parents, and their grandchild who was celebrating her two week birthday. We gave each other a sign of peace, we shook hands with strangers and told people about the baby and they smiled and rejoiced with us. We were in the same place as the man in the wheelchair and prayed for him. We heard the nativity story and were admonished to share it with our children and grandchildren again and again.
The pastor told a story about feeling very poor in his first church rectory, but he used to regularly give money to a poor man named Ritchie, and Ritchie showed up with his girlfriend around Christmas time when the pastor was feeling depressed about his church and his personal finances. He always gave the man some money although he had little himself. But this night, he invited the Ritchie into his home for the first time, and the man saw the pastor’s Christmas tree and the presents under the tree for his family, and the poor man marveled at how beautiful it all was, and how beautiful the rectory was and what a joy it must be to have a family, and the pastor’s perspective changed that night as he saw his life through the poor man’s eyes. And that’s what he challenged us, his listeners, to do: to listen to the poor and the stranger and to allow them and this Christmas story to change our perspective by looking at our lives from their perspective.
In Ephesians, Paul talks about our inheritance. This story, of God with us, of the Word made flesh, is that inheritance, isn’t it? We can unpack it and cherish it, no matter how spatially challenged we are and what church we are leaving or trying to get into. And today we read the famous beginning of John’s gospel: “In the beginning was the Word…” It recalls the book of Genesis. Scholars say that one translation of the Greek word logos (the Word) is “the explanation.”
As we think of all the myths and stories humans have constructed to explain our scary universe, it is so comforting this season to read John, substituting the word “explanation” for the “Word.” “In the beginning was the explanation…and the explanation was with God and the explanation was God… and the explanation become flesh and made his dwelling with us.” What a Christmas gift: the explanation! No wonder the Psalm ends with Praise: Praise Yahweh!
Jeremiah 31:7-14; Psalm 147:12-20; Ephesians 1:3-14; John 1:1-18
My wife and I, our grown son and daughter, our son-in-law and our two-week old granddaughter celebrated Christmas Eve in Buffalo, New York, attending a service at Trinity Episcopal Church on Delaware Avenue.
In an unfamiliar city, I had a difficult time finding a parking place, then turned wrong and headed toward the nearest steeple, thinking it was Trinity. But people were coming OUT of the church, and I asked one of them why she was heading in the wrong direction. She looked at me strangely, and muttered something about leaving the church. But my family was in there, so I resolutely headed toward the entrance out of which more and more people were exiting. I assumed that the service was so crowded they were being denied admittance!
Only when I got to the doorway did I see the sign stating it was St. Louis Catholic Church, NOT Trinity Episcopal. How embarrassing, I thought, as my wife dialed my cell phone to see what was taking me so long!
When I finally got to Trinity, the procession was ready to go down the aisle of a darkened church. Some children in costume were gathered around a furry donkey-looking creature that I assumed was on wheels and they would pull it down the aisle. But then I turned left and saw the Llama, who was rolling its eyes. I quickly turned and looked back at the donkey, and his ears were definitely twitching. They were alive! And the donkey was processing down the center aisle with a crowd of children to dramatize the birth of Jesus. The Llama was a camel-stand-in, because he came later when the youthful narrators talked about the Magi and three youngsters proudly acted their roles as wise men with gifts.
Everyone was invited to communion. If my two-week old granddaughter was on solid food, I think she would have been invited to partake of the bread and wine. At one point in the service many of the children in the congregation brought wrapped presents up to the altar. The pastor made the point these gifts were not for him, but for poor families in the community. Some of them were in big boxes and looked expensive. I saw a skateboard in plastic!
As I approached the altar for communion, an elderly woman was pushing a man about the same age in a wheelchair.
So, you might ask, what does any of this have to do with the readings today? --Just that a number of them make the point that God is calling people together. Jeremiah portrays God as calling his people back from exile, and not only the healthy, but the poor and lame and pregnant are also being called. Psalm 147 says that Yahweh “gathers together the outcasts of Israel” (Ps. 147:2).
And here we all were in Trinity Episcopal—we from Cleveland and others from who knows where. We, the old parents, and their grandchild who was celebrating her two week birthday. We gave each other a sign of peace, we shook hands with strangers and told people about the baby and they smiled and rejoiced with us. We were in the same place as the man in the wheelchair and prayed for him. We heard the nativity story and were admonished to share it with our children and grandchildren again and again.
The pastor told a story about feeling very poor in his first church rectory, but he used to regularly give money to a poor man named Ritchie, and Ritchie showed up with his girlfriend around Christmas time when the pastor was feeling depressed about his church and his personal finances. He always gave the man some money although he had little himself. But this night, he invited the Ritchie into his home for the first time, and the man saw the pastor’s Christmas tree and the presents under the tree for his family, and the poor man marveled at how beautiful it all was, and how beautiful the rectory was and what a joy it must be to have a family, and the pastor’s perspective changed that night as he saw his life through the poor man’s eyes. And that’s what he challenged us, his listeners, to do: to listen to the poor and the stranger and to allow them and this Christmas story to change our perspective by looking at our lives from their perspective.
In Ephesians, Paul talks about our inheritance. This story, of God with us, of the Word made flesh, is that inheritance, isn’t it? We can unpack it and cherish it, no matter how spatially challenged we are and what church we are leaving or trying to get into. And today we read the famous beginning of John’s gospel: “In the beginning was the Word…” It recalls the book of Genesis. Scholars say that one translation of the Greek word logos (the Word) is “the explanation.”
As we think of all the myths and stories humans have constructed to explain our scary universe, it is so comforting this season to read John, substituting the word “explanation” for the “Word.” “In the beginning was the explanation…and the explanation was with God and the explanation was God… and the explanation become flesh and made his dwelling with us.” What a Christmas gift: the explanation! No wonder the Psalm ends with Praise: Praise Yahweh!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Commentary on Lectionary for December 26, 2010
First Sunday after Christmas
Isaiah 63:7-9; Psalm 148; Hebrews 2:10-18; Matthew 2:13-23
When Christmas is on a Saturday, many people will miss these readings for the first Sunday after Christmas. And they’ll be glad they did, because the one from Matthew tells a gruesome tale of a king murdering children two years old and under. It seems almost unfair for God to send an angel to warn Joseph to take the child to Egypt, but then no one warns the Mothers in and around Bethlehem and their children are slaughtered.
What a savage time, we think! But Matthew writes that not only Herod was afraid when the wise men came looking for a King, but “all Jerusalem with him” (Mt. 2:3). Their neighbors to the east had already proven themselves aggressive enemies, so Herod may have been taking no chances in ordering this pre-emptive strike against a possible threat in the distant future. And the irony is that Herod died before anyone could tell whether his action was necessary to preserve the powers that be. History would not vindicate him. The destruction of the Temple would come from Rome.
Anyhow, Matthew’s main purpose seems NOT to have been to tell horrible stories, but to link Jesus to the Old Testament prophecies, to Micah and Jeremiah and Isaiah. He wants to make it perfectly clear: this is the one who was foretold.
And the creators of the lectionary readings did the same thing: the Isaiah reading comes from a chapter that pictures God as dressed in crimson because he has killed so many of Israel’s enemies. But the chosen verses are those that make the point that God didn’t send an angel to save his people: it was “his presence that saved them; his love and pity redeemed them” (Is. 63:9).
The letter to the Hebrews quotes Psalm 22, which also contains so many violent images, as directly applying to Jesus. And the point of that passage is that this God who created everything came to us in human form, sharing all of our sufferings, a victim of our violence, so that He could help us get beyond our pain and relax in his presence.
As the New Testament writers look back on the first Christmas and the life of Jesus, they seem to be saying, “Yes, yes, we know that life is full of powerful men who will do anything to preserve their status; we know there are nations who want our land and our resources and will kill to get them; we know even children have a high mortality rate and sometimes die horrible deaths, but the thing we want to tell you is not that—that’s old news. The thing we want to tell you is that something new has happened; someone has entered our nasty realities to help us, to save us from all of this. We have VERY good news for you! Go pray Psalm 148 and call upon all of creation to praise the God who has come to join us!”
Now here’s the thing, and it will bear repeating throughout this new church year: the nasty things are not going to stop. The reading from Matthew is proof of that. Prayers will still go unanswered. Disaster and heartache and tears are all around. But with his presence, his grace and his help, we can align ourselves with the reality that is underneath all temporary forms, find our peace in it, and start our eternal life now. We won’t always be successful in this “alignment,” but some day we may swim through our tears and find joy.
Isaiah 63:7-9; Psalm 148; Hebrews 2:10-18; Matthew 2:13-23
When Christmas is on a Saturday, many people will miss these readings for the first Sunday after Christmas. And they’ll be glad they did, because the one from Matthew tells a gruesome tale of a king murdering children two years old and under. It seems almost unfair for God to send an angel to warn Joseph to take the child to Egypt, but then no one warns the Mothers in and around Bethlehem and their children are slaughtered.
What a savage time, we think! But Matthew writes that not only Herod was afraid when the wise men came looking for a King, but “all Jerusalem with him” (Mt. 2:3). Their neighbors to the east had already proven themselves aggressive enemies, so Herod may have been taking no chances in ordering this pre-emptive strike against a possible threat in the distant future. And the irony is that Herod died before anyone could tell whether his action was necessary to preserve the powers that be. History would not vindicate him. The destruction of the Temple would come from Rome.
Anyhow, Matthew’s main purpose seems NOT to have been to tell horrible stories, but to link Jesus to the Old Testament prophecies, to Micah and Jeremiah and Isaiah. He wants to make it perfectly clear: this is the one who was foretold.
And the creators of the lectionary readings did the same thing: the Isaiah reading comes from a chapter that pictures God as dressed in crimson because he has killed so many of Israel’s enemies. But the chosen verses are those that make the point that God didn’t send an angel to save his people: it was “his presence that saved them; his love and pity redeemed them” (Is. 63:9).
The letter to the Hebrews quotes Psalm 22, which also contains so many violent images, as directly applying to Jesus. And the point of that passage is that this God who created everything came to us in human form, sharing all of our sufferings, a victim of our violence, so that He could help us get beyond our pain and relax in his presence.
As the New Testament writers look back on the first Christmas and the life of Jesus, they seem to be saying, “Yes, yes, we know that life is full of powerful men who will do anything to preserve their status; we know there are nations who want our land and our resources and will kill to get them; we know even children have a high mortality rate and sometimes die horrible deaths, but the thing we want to tell you is not that—that’s old news. The thing we want to tell you is that something new has happened; someone has entered our nasty realities to help us, to save us from all of this. We have VERY good news for you! Go pray Psalm 148 and call upon all of creation to praise the God who has come to join us!”
Now here’s the thing, and it will bear repeating throughout this new church year: the nasty things are not going to stop. The reading from Matthew is proof of that. Prayers will still go unanswered. Disaster and heartache and tears are all around. But with his presence, his grace and his help, we can align ourselves with the reality that is underneath all temporary forms, find our peace in it, and start our eternal life now. We won’t always be successful in this “alignment,” but some day we may swim through our tears and find joy.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Commentary on Lectionary for December 19, 2010
Fourth Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; Romans 1:1-17; Matthew 1:18-24
You can imagine one of the prophets or the person who wrote Psalm 80 getting out of bed (whatever ‘bed’ meant in those days) and looking around perhaps at a whirling sandstorm, then remembering that the Assyrians were already killing people and kidnapping others, and you can imagine that person looking up at the sky and saying: “God, where are you? You promised! You planted this strong and wonderful vine called Israel and now you are NOT taking care of it! Where are you?”
All of us can imagine ourselves doing and saying the same thing in our own version of sandstorms and threatening attacks. Maybe accusing God of being a bad gardener is healthier than giving in to severe depression and giving up, as if there WERE no God.
Maybe we should ask for a sign…or pray to recognize a sign that has already been given. In the Isaiah reading, Ahaz did not want to ask for a sign because he had already made up his mind and decided what he was going to do—and it did not include God. Ahaz was going to ally himself with the enemy, the Assyrians who were already destroying the northern kingdom and eventually would conquer Samaria in 722 BCE.
God gave him a sign: a young woman would bear a child and call him Immanuel, which means God is with us! In other words, God was saying to Ahaz: You do not NEED the Assyrians. You just need to recognize and have confidence in the presence of God.
Joseph, Mary’s husband, got it. Maybe he needed a message from an angel in a dream, but he ended up trusting enough to take an unmarried pregnant woman as his wife.
It is very difficult for us to crawl out from under the covers each day and watch the morning’s news and find God in any of it. The meeting of God with reality, with day to day ‘stuff,’ is rarely perceived and believed. Those who profess to perceive His presence are often on the edge of sanity themselves and prone to make outlandish statements concerning what God is telling them to do.
We need a sign to discern whether our perception of Immanuel is true or false, real or fanatical. Many “saints” –like Paul--throughout the ages have pointed to peace and a quiet joy as being two of those signs. The surface of life may be chaotic and violent; the depths are still and silent. I think such saints have had their times of yelling at God, accusing Him of desertion, but have come to this desert place, this place of presence which often feels like absence. Perhaps it is best called a space, a space in which He dwells, God with us.
Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; Romans 1:1-17; Matthew 1:18-24
You can imagine one of the prophets or the person who wrote Psalm 80 getting out of bed (whatever ‘bed’ meant in those days) and looking around perhaps at a whirling sandstorm, then remembering that the Assyrians were already killing people and kidnapping others, and you can imagine that person looking up at the sky and saying: “God, where are you? You promised! You planted this strong and wonderful vine called Israel and now you are NOT taking care of it! Where are you?”
All of us can imagine ourselves doing and saying the same thing in our own version of sandstorms and threatening attacks. Maybe accusing God of being a bad gardener is healthier than giving in to severe depression and giving up, as if there WERE no God.
Maybe we should ask for a sign…or pray to recognize a sign that has already been given. In the Isaiah reading, Ahaz did not want to ask for a sign because he had already made up his mind and decided what he was going to do—and it did not include God. Ahaz was going to ally himself with the enemy, the Assyrians who were already destroying the northern kingdom and eventually would conquer Samaria in 722 BCE.
God gave him a sign: a young woman would bear a child and call him Immanuel, which means God is with us! In other words, God was saying to Ahaz: You do not NEED the Assyrians. You just need to recognize and have confidence in the presence of God.
Joseph, Mary’s husband, got it. Maybe he needed a message from an angel in a dream, but he ended up trusting enough to take an unmarried pregnant woman as his wife.
It is very difficult for us to crawl out from under the covers each day and watch the morning’s news and find God in any of it. The meeting of God with reality, with day to day ‘stuff,’ is rarely perceived and believed. Those who profess to perceive His presence are often on the edge of sanity themselves and prone to make outlandish statements concerning what God is telling them to do.
We need a sign to discern whether our perception of Immanuel is true or false, real or fanatical. Many “saints” –like Paul--throughout the ages have pointed to peace and a quiet joy as being two of those signs. The surface of life may be chaotic and violent; the depths are still and silent. I think such saints have had their times of yelling at God, accusing Him of desertion, but have come to this desert place, this place of presence which often feels like absence. Perhaps it is best called a space, a space in which He dwells, God with us.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Commentary on Lectionary for December 12, 2010
Third Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146:5-10 or Luke 1:47-55; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11
I can tell, as soon as I sit down to meditate, if I am not at peace. My breathing gives me away; and that feeling in my stomach. No use pretending. The temptation is to make the meditation a wrestling match, like Jacob’s famous match in Genesis 32. --Fight hard to keep the anxious thoughts at bay, to empty my mind of them, to NOT let fear take me over.
And how surprising it is to discover how little the event is that can throw me out of peace, that can dis-ease me! It can be a single word, or a look, or even a silence when I expected a response. Or it can be a doctor’s appointment, an unwelcome task or warning, a traffic ticket, or even a downturn in the stock market.
Today’s readings give hope to the unpeaceful, the overwhelmed, and the suffering: all that will be turned around. Isaiah says it to the exiled: Not only will you come back from Babylon to your beloved Judah, you will do it on a highway—a SAFE highway, and one that belies the fact that it is in the middle of a desert because there will be water and blooms!
My daughter, on her way to India, had to land in Jordan and stay the night. She couldn’t get over what she saw when she looked out of the window of the hotel the next morning: nothing but desert! And yet when we visited my son in Arizona last May we saw cacti in bloom—a beautiful sight. The difference was, of course, WATER.
And so what will make peace bloom once again within us? It is the coming of God into our lives, as subtly as a gentle hand laying a wet cloth on our fevered forehead, or as dramatic as being thrown from our horse. John the Baptizer in Matthew thinks it is happening in his time. He sends his followers to ask Jesus: “Are you the one or should we look for another?” And Jesus answers, in effect, “Go tell John what you have heard and seen: everyone is getting healed; suffering is being alleviated; what is lacking is being reversed!” It’s a new, a different kind of Exodus—from dread and pain to peace and joy.
But, we respond, like a child whose sore finger has just been kissed: “How come it doesn’t feel better NOW?” James has an answer in today’s excerpt: Wait for it! Or as he puts it: “Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord.” James points back to prophets like Isaiah, who prophesied the return from exile that took years to be realized, and we will soon hear those wonderful words from the book of consolation: “Comfort , comfort my people! (Is. 40:1)”
And so I sit for meditation, in peace or un-peace, and I wait as patiently as I can, sipping confidence from these preachers of the word, these singers of God’s works, like Mary in Luke, suffering the discomforts of her pregnancy yet able to sing to her cousin Elizabeth: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.”
I take the breath into my body and feel its presence there, and wait. The message was clear: Where you are doesn’t matter—in desert or in chaos. Wait for Him. He will find you.
Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146:5-10 or Luke 1:47-55; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11
I can tell, as soon as I sit down to meditate, if I am not at peace. My breathing gives me away; and that feeling in my stomach. No use pretending. The temptation is to make the meditation a wrestling match, like Jacob’s famous match in Genesis 32. --Fight hard to keep the anxious thoughts at bay, to empty my mind of them, to NOT let fear take me over.
And how surprising it is to discover how little the event is that can throw me out of peace, that can dis-ease me! It can be a single word, or a look, or even a silence when I expected a response. Or it can be a doctor’s appointment, an unwelcome task or warning, a traffic ticket, or even a downturn in the stock market.
Today’s readings give hope to the unpeaceful, the overwhelmed, and the suffering: all that will be turned around. Isaiah says it to the exiled: Not only will you come back from Babylon to your beloved Judah, you will do it on a highway—a SAFE highway, and one that belies the fact that it is in the middle of a desert because there will be water and blooms!
My daughter, on her way to India, had to land in Jordan and stay the night. She couldn’t get over what she saw when she looked out of the window of the hotel the next morning: nothing but desert! And yet when we visited my son in Arizona last May we saw cacti in bloom—a beautiful sight. The difference was, of course, WATER.
And so what will make peace bloom once again within us? It is the coming of God into our lives, as subtly as a gentle hand laying a wet cloth on our fevered forehead, or as dramatic as being thrown from our horse. John the Baptizer in Matthew thinks it is happening in his time. He sends his followers to ask Jesus: “Are you the one or should we look for another?” And Jesus answers, in effect, “Go tell John what you have heard and seen: everyone is getting healed; suffering is being alleviated; what is lacking is being reversed!” It’s a new, a different kind of Exodus—from dread and pain to peace and joy.
But, we respond, like a child whose sore finger has just been kissed: “How come it doesn’t feel better NOW?” James has an answer in today’s excerpt: Wait for it! Or as he puts it: “Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord.” James points back to prophets like Isaiah, who prophesied the return from exile that took years to be realized, and we will soon hear those wonderful words from the book of consolation: “Comfort , comfort my people! (Is. 40:1)”
And so I sit for meditation, in peace or un-peace, and I wait as patiently as I can, sipping confidence from these preachers of the word, these singers of God’s works, like Mary in Luke, suffering the discomforts of her pregnancy yet able to sing to her cousin Elizabeth: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.”
I take the breath into my body and feel its presence there, and wait. The message was clear: Where you are doesn’t matter—in desert or in chaos. Wait for Him. He will find you.
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