Sunday, October 31, 2021

Reformation Sunday 2021

Kondo the Church!


As it was said to me over dinner Thursday night, you know you have arrived when your name becomes a verb. 


Marie Kondo, who apparently lives in a small apartment in Tokyo, gives advice on how to get rid of stuff, and organize what you have left. Hence the verb “Kondo”. 


Sounds like a plan. In fact, 500 years ago the church held a gigantic rummage sale. It got rid of a lot of stuff, some of it good, some of it as awful as my neighbor’s amateur paintings and the busted furniture that sits in their carport awaiting the HabiStore truck.


It was Mark Sisk who said, ‘every 500 years or so the church holds a gigantic rummage sale’ and Phyllis Tickle who quoted him in her book, “The Great Emergence.” Phyllis was hopeful that there was more to it than just getting rid of stuff. In fact, the discovery of what really matters, what amongst the detritus of centuries are the “keepers”, is what it is about. Not what you lose, but what you gain.


I lost a few pounds a few years ago, and gained by it. I emerged healthier. It wasn’t what I lost, it was what was essential for continuing life. (And living more joyfully as a result.)


That is in part what the Reformation of 500 years ago was about. Loss and gain. 


Of course everybody lost something. In fact what was sought was security: in part freedom, freedom to worship without fear (as John the Baptist’s father put it), and in part simply freedom from fear. For the great fear of that time, apart from physical violence and depredation, was the loss of one’s eternal soul.


And so the question that came to the fore, that propelled some real abuses and powered some deep insights, was simply this: what must I do to be saved?


In some ways it is the same question we ask now, using different words: instead of salvation we choose security, instead of providence we choose prosperity, instead of grace we choose … greed - or do we?


It doesn’t have to be that way - because we have faith in a faithful God - and that faith can lead to action. However blessed we are, we know our faith is founded on something more solid than solid ground.


As Martin Luther said, 

 “Faith is God’s work in us. It changes us and makes us to be born anew of God. This faith is a living, busy, active, mighty thing. It is impossible for it not to be doing good works incessantly. Faith is a living, daring confidence in God’s grace, so sure and certain that believers would stake their lives on it a thousand times.” 


            https://elca.org/Faith/ELCA-Teaching/Luther-and-Lutheranism


What must I do to be saved? Somewhere in a stack of unsorted papers near my desk is a pamphlet that J. Lee Jagers gave me when I was sixteen years old. It was entitled simply that: “What must I do to be saved?” It listed all the different Scripture passages that answered that question. Remember somebody asked Paul and Silas that, and they gave an answer, somewhat along the lines of “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved.” (Acts 16:31) 


Sometimes it was “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ” - and be baptized. Often it was like that, “Believe and…”


“Believe and…” do something. Show something. Show somehow that you got the message, that you received the Spirit, that you are saved. Tell somebody, shout, seek baptism, something. Act it out and make it real.


Is that enough? Let’s come back to that.


At the time, all those years ago, I was relieved to hear that what I had already done was enough. I did not also need to fulfill this guy’s requirements, this guy at the same Boy Scout camp, who handed me a pamphlet printed all in red and said, you need to be baptized in the Holy Spirit. You need to speak in tongues. Why would you deny this gift?


Now I will tell you I was fortified, I was somewhat prepared, as the same Lee Jagers who sent me the pamphlet had already taught me and others the Biblical passages about spiritual gifts. I could see for myself that speaking in tongues (unknown, ecstatic or interpreted) was just one of the gifts. It was not required for salvation. In fact it came after salvation. 


Just as I later learned that we do not do anything to inherit eternal life. It does not work that way. It is already too late. You cannot do anything about it. God is already at work before you are born, before you even think about it. He is there. Searching for you, seeking you out, searching you out, knowing you. And that is as old as time. Actually much older. Why would God wait around? 


The one who creates us is the one who redeems us is the one who empowers us.


There is truth to the saying “Believe and…” in that once and as grace dawns upon us we begin to respond to its light. We begin to respond. To God’s light. 


It is already day. We just need to open our eyes and live into it.


This is hard to see in the depth of night. And the darkest hour is well before dawn, when temperatures are low, body metabolism is at its quietest, and the chances men and women knew long ago of death are there a breath away. 


And the chances we know, of death, from illness or catastrophe, or malevolence, are a breath away from us too. Not that we think about it much on a cheery fall morning. 


Unless it is all we, one of us or some of us, think about. Some among us of course have it on their minds all the time. Perhaps someone near to them is in distress or dying. Perhaps they are behind the eight-ball on a mortgage or rent and may lose their home. Perhaps a child is in jeopardy through illness, mistreatment, or disease. 


But even though, even then, when the darkness of evil or the sadness of sickness or the shame of defeat, are upon us and surround us, we are beheld in a greater love.


That is what we believe in, that is what we love, when we love Jesus, when we love God. And that is the love that saves us, heals us, makes us whole, despite and in the midst of our brokenness. 


And that is what will lead us home.


JRL+ 5:42 AM Thu Oct 28 2021


 


October 31 Reformation Sunday  (Jeremiah 31:31-34; Psalm 46; Romans 3:19-28; John 8:31-36). Lutheran Church of the Foothills, Tucson.

For All the Saints

 For All the Saints


As we approach the weekend of All Hallows Eve (October 31), and the following weekend when many of us remember All Saints, I have been remembering a couple of visits I made long ago, and a couple even longer.


When I was in college my advisor Donald Nicholl was newly arrived back from England. In fact, when I first went to see him in his office, his books had not arrived. The shelves were bare, but the walls were not. On them he had fixed pictures, perhaps just photocopies, of people he called his “friends” - or we might call saints. 


They appear later between the pages of his book Holiness (Darton, Longman + Todd) and we certainly heard about them in his classes on holiness in world religions. They were an eclectic bunch: Ramana Maharshi, Thomas Merton, Mohandas Gandhi, Dorothy Day, …Living and dead, they were people he lived with intimately, in the spirit. So he called them his friends.


Years later after his death I went to visit his widow. Together we visited his grave. And I slept in the spare room, which had been his study before his death. Around him as he lay on the daybed had been those same friends, those saints, taped to those walls. They had traveled with him. 


And now Dorothy had put up her own wall of saints. Some different, some the same. An old friend, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, and others. It makes me think: who would I put on my wall of saints? 


Longer ago was my Memorial Day visit with my great aunt to the cemetery in Colma, California: no, not the one where Wyatt Earp and Josephine are buried; the one next door with the bishops. As we stood there by the family monument with only a surname carved on the stone, Aunt Carol pointed out where various family members had been laid to rest in the ground around us, now covered with grass. I jumped when she pointed out I was standing on my great great cousin. I suppose there is a place there now for her, too. And she would appreciate the visit to the place.


For other relatives of my own generation there are a couple of beaches to visit in California, to remember places they loved best, before they were lost to the tide that sweeps away us all.


But this coming month I will remember them as they were, and perhaps I will put up my own wall of saints, with them among them.


JRL+

Oct 20, 2021


A version of this essay was published in the Keeping the Faith feature in the Home + Llife section of the Arizona Daily Star on Sunday October 31st 2021, page E3, under the title, "Remembering our own saints."

Sunday, October 24, 2021

Bartimaeus

 The first passage we translated from Greek in seminary was this one. And the imperative, urgent nature of the request of the blind beggar, Bartimaeus, was apparent, once you saw it in the Greek.


“Lord, that I might see again!” is an accurate translation. He wasn’t deferential, he was in a hurry.


And he discarded everything to follow Jesus. Without being asked.


Jesus is turning toward Jerusalem. His disciples have trudged in his path all the way from north of the Sea of Galilee. Down the Jordan River they have trod, until they have arrived at the foot of the long climb, from the ancient well-town of Jericho on up to Jerusalem. 


And here at this turning point, sitting by the side of the road, is a would-be sighted man. All around him people pegged him as a beggar, blind, consigned to the rubbish heap of life. 


But he did not accept that. That was not his fate. That is not what God called him to be. That is not what God made him. God made him his own child, beloved, and a miracle.


A miracle, we know, of restored sight, but also a miracle of forgiveness, grace, and healing.


He did not hesitate. He did not quit. He did what he was not supposed to do. He cried out. And revealed the truth about the one passing by, whom he, son of Timaeus, was first to address as son of David.


What does the son of Timaeus have to do with the son of David? What do they share?


Life - the gift of life - and the redemption of body and soul in the light of the kingdom’s dawning.


For the dawn is upon them, just beyond night; just beyond the darkness of Calvary, Easter comes.


And they are ready, first for the one, and then for the other. The unimaginable other.

Perhaps it is easier to see if you have once been blind. But now, you see.


***


It's a simple story, there's a lot left out. We don't know why he was blind. There have been speculations that his father was blind so that he'd always been a beggar.


But what he asked Jesus, is simple and direct. Rabbi - master, teacher, Lord - that I might see, again, that my sight might be restored. Probably, then, not born blind. Now, in this story there's no speculation, either that he deserved it, that God was punishing him, that he was a bad person, or that he got what he deserved. There is none of that. 


In fact, the other morning, I heard the second chapter of the Book of Tobit, where a good man, doing a good thing, is made blind. And God is the one who heals him: who releases him from the captivity of his blindness. Who saves him.


Save: that's the word that is used in Greek, for how Jesus explains what happens to the man he heals is, literally, saved: Your faith has saved you. It’s a word Mark uses a lot. It means salvation, health, liberation. Your faith has healed you, released you, saved you, from the bondage, not of sin, but of this blindness, this affliction. 


And so this story is part of the story of God's glory revealed, not because someone is bad or wrong, or being punished. None of those assumptions are made here. 


In other stories, Jesus asked the crowd, Why do you think this man has this condition? Why do you think he's lying there? They're trying to guess, they're trying to say it's because he did something bad. And God is punishing him. 


And no, Jesus says, no. 


This is an occasion when God is going to show His glory. That leaves a lot of questions unanswered, but it does tell you what is going on here is not punitive. It's not the end of a penal sentence. 


This is compassion. This is faith. Jesus is there to proclaim what God is doing. What is God doing through faith for Bartimaeus. 


Bartimaeus, the blind man, gets it. He knows what is really going on. He may not be able to see, but he knows who Jesus is. Son of David, Have mercy on me, Son of David, that is, Messiah - and savior, redeemer, liberator.


He knows who he's talking to, he knows what he's asking, and he will not be stopped. At first people are telling him to just keep quiet, but he will not. Once Jesus calls him, once he is recognized, then they say, Take heart, take heart. He is calling you. 


And so then Bartimaeus casts aside his cloak, just throws it to the winds. Maybe, maybe it's true, maybe somebody picked it up for him and brought it along because the journey from Jericho to Jerusalem is long, and the night is cold, and it may not be a friendly place, when he arrives, maybe somebody did that for him, we don't know; we don't know a lot of things. 


We do know that he called out to Jesus, that he called out to have his sight restored and we know that Jesus called out to him. And then he followed Jesus. All the way. 


The words for crying out - as Bartimaeus cried out to Jesus - and to have one’s sight restored, then I might see again - in ancient Greek those two words, anaboaó, anablepsō, are right next to each other in the dictionary. And those two words are right next to each other in this story. He cried out, and his sight was restored. And then he followed.


ἀναβοάω (anaboaó)

ἀναβλέψω (anablepsō)


Something else to note about Bartimaeus. He didn’t have any social status. Because he was blind, because he was a beggar, he was on the outside of society. Now, having his sight restored, as it would be for any one healed by Jesus, could restore him to his place in society. But that is not what he wanted, as it turns out. He wanted more and better: he wanted to follow Jesus. And that is what he did.


You know sometimes I wonder if someone has come to church out of social aspirations. Sometimes I wonder if I had. Rather than to follow Jesus or to hear the good news or to learn how to act upon it. Sometimes I wonder. And I know that sometimes it is the only place I can be.


You have the words of life, Lord; where else can we go?


Bartimaeus seems to feel that way. Where else is there to go, when you can follow Jesus?


***


https://youtu.be/IN05jVNBs64

President Obama sings Amazing Grace (C-SPAN)


October 24th 2021

Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 25 Year B

Lectionary 30


Jeremiah 31:7-9

Psalm 126

Hebrews 7:23-28

Mark 10:46-52


http://edgeofenclosure.org/proper25b.html

https://enterthebible.org/passage/mark-1046-52-blind-bartimaeus-is-given-sight

https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=54181


JRL+

Friday, October 22, 2021

Lord, that I might see!

 


Lord, that I might see!



And they came to Jericho: and as he went out of Jericho with his disciples and a great number of people, blind Bartimaeus, the son of Timaeus, sat by the highway side begging.

And when he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to cry out, and say, Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me.

And many charged him that he should hold his peace: but he cried the more a great deal, Thou son of David, have mercy on me.

And Jesus stood still, and commanded him to be called. And they call the blind man, saying unto him, Be of good comfort, rise; he calleth thee.

And he, casting away his garment, rose, and came to Jesus.

And Jesus answered and said unto him, What wilt thou that I should do unto thee? The blind man said unto him, Lord, that I might see!

And Jesus said unto him, Go thy way; thy faith hath made thee whole. And immediately he received his sight, and followed Jesus in the way. (Mark 10:46-52)


The first passage we translated from Greek in seminary was this one. And the imperative, urgent nature of the request of the blind beggar, Bar-Timaeus, was apparent, once you saw.


Lord, that I might see! is an accurate translation. He wasn’t deferential, he was in a hurry.


And he discarded everything to follow Jesus. Without being asked.


As we recall from the story of Saint Francis, the town square of Assisi witnessed something similar about 12 centuries later. The son of a wealthy merchant cast off the trappings of wealth right down to his skin.


[Naked as the youth in the garden running away in the night when Jesus was betrayed.]


He had no idea what would happen next, except that now he was really following Jesus.


And then the bishop covered him with his cope. After that, Francis found a discarded cloak of an under-gardener waiting for him on a trash heap. He gladly adopted it as his own, chalking a cross on the back.


[“Where have you laid him?” the women asked at the empty tomb. “For we would have his body in our care.”]


[Yes we have wandered far from Jericho, but not far from Jesus, and his encounter with those who did not see - and those who did.]


Jesus is turning toward Jerusalem. His disciples have trudged in his past all the way from north of the Sea of Galilee. Down the Jordan River they have trod, until they have arrived at the foot of the long climb, from the ancient well-town of Jericho on up to Jerusalem. 


And here at this turning point, sitting by the side of the road, is a would-be sighted man. All around him people pegged him as a beggar, blind, consigned to the rubbish heap of life. 


But he did not accept that. That was not his fate. That is not what God called him to be. That is not what God made him. God made him his own child, beloved, and a miracle.


A miracle, we know, of restored sight, but also a miracle of forgiveness, grace, and healing.


He did not hesitate. He did not quit. He did what he was not supposed to do. He cried out. And revealed the truth about the one passing by, whom he, son of Timaeus, was first to address as son of David.


What does the son of Timaeus have to do with the son of David? What do they share?


Life - the gift of life - and the redemption of body and soul in the light of the kingdom’s dawning.


For the dawn is upon them, just beyond night; just beyond the darkness of Calvary, Easter comes.


And they are ready, first for the one, and then for the other. The unimaginable other.

Perhaps it is easier to see if you have once been blind. But now, you see.


https://youtu.be/IN05jVNBs64

President Obama sings Amazing Grace (C-SPAN)


October 24th 2021

Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 25 Year B

Lectionary 30


Jeremiah 31:7-9

Psalm 126

Hebrews 7:23-28

Mark 10:46-52


http://edgeofenclosure.org/proper25b.html


An earlier version of this essay was published as "Lord, that I might see!" in Keeping the Faith, Home + Life, Arizona Daily Star, November 14th 2021, E3.

Sunday, October 17, 2021

In Thy Glory

 

Whosoever will be great among you shall be your minister; And whosoever of you will be the chiefest, shall be servant of all. For even the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many. (Mark 10.43b-45, KJV)


I’m going to tell you two stories, one true and one that’s just made up.


A new pastor went into his study, opened the drawer of his desk, and found three envelopes. One was marked, open first. And so he did.


The first time you get into trouble in your new congregation, this is what you do: blame the previous pastor.


It happened, and so he did. It seemed to work.


Then he got into trouble again. 


The second envelope said, open this second. So he did, and it said, “Blame the bishop.”


So he did. It seemed to work. Kind of…


The third crisis came. And so he opened the third envelope, which said, after all, open this third.


It said: “Prepare three envelopes.”


The true story is this: when a new president goes into the oval office for the first time as president, he sits down at the Resolute desk, and finds an envelope. It is addressed to him. It is a warm personal note, just for him, from his predecessor. A few words of wisdom, from one of the very few alive who knows just what he is facing on his first day in his new job.


George H. W. Bush apparently wrote a real winner, for Bill Clinton. And they became friends.


"When I walked into this office just now I felt the same sense of wonder and respect that I felt four years ago," Bush wrote. "I know you will feel that, too."


The handwritten Inauguration Day letter wished “great happiness” to Bill Clinton, who defeated Bush in a crushing 1992 re-election bid.


"When I walked into this office just now I felt the same sense of wonder and respect that I felt four years ago," Bush wrote. "I know you will feel that, too."


The outgoing president also offered encouragement and some advice for dealing with critics, saying there will be "very tough times" ahead, "made even more difficult by criticism you may not think is fair.


"I'm not a very good one to give advice; but just don't let the critics discourage you or push you off course."


“Your success now is our country’s success. I am rooting hard for you,” Bush concluded.


Here’s how it’s done in America.⁣ ⁣ This is the gracious letter George H.W. Bush left for Bill in the Oval Office on the day of Bill's inauguration.⁣ ⁣ "Your success now is our country's success," President Bush wrote. "I am rooting hard for you."⁣ ⁣ Since the very beginning, American presidents have accepted the will of the people and participated in a peaceful transfer of power. That's what makes our democracy so unique, and so enduring.

A post shared by Hillary Clinton (@hillaryclinton) on Nov 10, 2020 at 7:51am PST

https://www.today.com/news/george-bush-s-letter-bill-clinton-lesson-dignity-respect-t104168



The second story, as you can guess, is the true one. The other? I hope not.


Is there a third story? No.


Jesus got no notes, no envelopes, when he embarked on his mission. He went to the synagogue, opened the scroll that was handed to him, and read, 


The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,

   because the Lord has anointed me;

he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,

   to bind up the broken-hearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

   and release to the prisoners;

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour,

   and the day of vengeance of our God;

   to comfort all who mourn;

to provide for those who mourn in Zion—

   to give them a garland instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

   the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

   the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.


(Isaiah 61:1-3)


To proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners.


And so he did.


He became, took on himself, that role of the servant, and gave himself for the liberation of many.


That liberation, that release, that healing, had already taken many forms by the time he got to this place in the journey, when two disciples ask him for the places of chief honor ‘one on thy right hand, and the other on thy left hand, in thy glory’. In thy glory.


Oh, but those places have already been appointed. And you know when he was in his glory.


And you know who they were. Maybe not by name, but you can almost see them. There they are, on his right and his left, and believe it or not, that is a picture of him in his glory.


On the cross.


His life a ransom for many. 


And liberty has been proclaimed, and those in bondage have been set free. 


And they continue to be.


And it is our job to help. To be among those who ‘will be great’ by being the servant of all.


How does that play out in real time? In our lives, we are unlikely to be the victims of midnight betrayals or crack-of-dawn trials, before the authorities of our own nation, or an occupying power; though soon some among us may be those who can say, just so. Refugees. Asylum seekers. Illegal aliens, desperate for a home.


We may all be that, when it comes to our sins, our hidden bondage, our unknown prisons.


Our need for healing.


And thanks be to God, there is a God, who sent his Son, Son of Man, Son of God, Son of David, to shower his mercy upon us and show us the way to be free. Not alone but all of us.


And of all things, an everyday ritual in public schools, a promise spoken aloud by children, leads the way.


‘The original Pledge of Allegiance was written by Francis Bellamy. It was first given wide publicity through the official program of the National Public Schools Celebration of Columbus Day which was printed in The Youth’s Companion of September 8, 1892, and at the same time sent out in leaflet form to schools throughout the country.


‘School children first recited the Pledge of Allegiance this way: “I pledge allegiance to my Flag and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all.”’


https://www.legion.org/flag/questions-answers/91112/who-wrote-pledge-allegiance

https://www.ushistory.org/documents/pledge.htm (accessed October 16, 2021).


One nation, indivisible. 


And here comes the kicker:


With liberty and justice for all.


That’s our job, to make it happen.


Not just the ones who ‘would be great’ - or ‘the chiefest’ among us - but all of us.


Under God.


We can do that.


Amen. May it be so, Lord, may it be so.


And so look upon the ministers who serve inside your church, your servants among us, that they and we are that all.


Blessed be God, whose power working in us, can do more than we could ask or imagine.


Ask the disciples! They know. They found out. Those two guys, who seem so silly in this story, did indeed drink of his cup, and were baptized with his baptism: they went on to do more than they could ever have imagined, in the grace and in the power and to the glory of God.


Glory to God whose power, working in us, can do infinitely

more than we can ask or imagine: Glory to him from

generation to generation in the Church, and in Christ Jesus

for ever and ever. Amen.   (Ephesians 3:20,21).


JRL+

Oct 16, 2021 5:06 PM