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Healing Helpers

I want to know did you get the feelin’ // Did you get it down in your soul // I want to know did you get the feelin’ // Oh did ye get healed //I begin to realize // Magic in my life // See it manifest in oh, so many ways // Every day is gettin’ better and better // I want to be daily walking close // It gets stronger when you get the feelin’ // When you get it down in your soul // And it makes you feel good // And it makes you feel whole // When the spirit moves you // And it fills you through and through // Every morning and at the break of day // Did ye get healed?

Van Morrison, Did Ye Get Healed, 1987

We are rapidly closing in on Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. This is the season when Christians take the time for introspection – a time to slow down and take a good, long, hard look at ourselves to see where we are, and importantly, where we are not, in our walk with Christ. Sometimes, what we find can be downright scary, perhaps so much that we ignore at best or deny at worst, just how far astray we have become: that there are more instances of “not” than “are.”

I can’t speak for you, but I can speak for myself when I see that I need healing. I have my share of demons that rage and rant, keeping me on the wrong path. How do I rid myself of these evils? In the following passage from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus shows us how.

 Jesus and his followers went into Capernaum. Immediately on the Sabbath Jesus entered the synagogue and started teaching. The people were amazed by his teaching, for he was teaching them with authority, not like the legal experts. Suddenly, there in the synagogue, a person with an evil spirit screamed, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are. You are the holy one from God.”
 “Silence!” Jesus said, speaking harshly to the demon. “Come out of him!” The unclean spirit shook him and screamed, then it came out.
 Everyone was shaken and questioned among themselves, “What’s this? A new teaching with authority! He even commands unclean spirits and they obey him!”Right away the news about him spread throughout the entire region of Galilee. (Mark 1.21-28, CEB)

Consider how the sick man went about.

He sought to be taught. The man had an “evil spirit” – demon possession, epilepsy, alcoholism, drug addiction, some form of nervous disorder – we don’t know for sure. Whatever the nature of his illness was, he knew things were not right and he wasn’t shy about it. He had made the effort to reach for somebody to teach him, guide him, to heal him; and he went to the right place, the right house and met Jesus.

He fought with a new thought. He was willing to struggle. Healing is never easy and changing is even less so, even when we know it’s the necessary thing to do. We tend to fight against new ideas and new ways of being. An old friend called this the IRS system – no not that IRS – but Intimidation, Rebellion, and Screams. Sometimes, when we get closer to a life changing breakthrough, the reactions can be all the more passionate. The demoniac found the courage to struggle and wrestle with Jesus’ words in spite of his hostility, anger and turmoil.

He caught what Christ had. After he sought, and after he fought, the demoniac caught what Jesus had to offer: healing. He did not know how and he did not ask. He accepted. Everyone else may have been shocked: “What is this?” Not the healed man: he was just grateful to be well.

If you are hurting today, Jesus came for you. “Healthy people don’t need a doctor, but sick people do. I didn’t come to call righteous people but sinners to change their hearts and lives” (Luke 5.31-32, CEB). God wants you to be healthy and whole in body, mind and spirit. As you journey through Lent, take up those demons and turn to Christ. The psalmist said it this way: “But look here: God is my helper; my Lord sustains my life” (Psalm 54.4, CEB). Trust Jesus to heal you, to help you and to change your life. It might be a bit messy, it might get a bit loud, but the peace is well worth the noise and the trip. Get the feelin’!

Artwork: Romanesque painter, 12th century. St. Martin’s Church, Zillis, Graubünden, Switzerland

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To the Ends of the Earth

“Imagine no possessions// I wonder if you can// No need for greed or hunger// A brotherhood of man// Imagine all the people sharing all the world, you// You may say I’m a dreamer// But I’m not the only one// I hope someday you’ll join us// And the world will be as one.”

Imagine, John Lennon

Cover art: Baptism of the Eunuch, Pieter Lastman, 1623

Then an angel of the Lord spoke to Philip saying: “Rise up and go along south on the way going down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” This is a desert. 27 And rising up he went. And behold a man, an Ethiopian eunuch, a power of [the] Candace, queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of all her treasure. He had come to Jerusalem to worship  28 and he was returning; sitting in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah.29Then the Spirit said to Philip, “Go up and join this chariot” 30 Philip ran up and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” 31And he said, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to come up and sit with him.’ 32 Now the passage of the scripture which he was reading was this: “As a sheep led to the slaughter or a lamb before its shearer is dumb, so he opens not his mouth: 33 In his humiliation justice was denied him. Who can describe his generation? For his life is taken up from the earth.” 34 And the eunuch said to Philip, “About whom, pray, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?”35 Then Philip opened his mouth, and beginning with this scripture he told him the good news of Jesus.36 And as they went along the road they came to some water, and the eunuch said, “See, here is water! What is to prevent my being baptized?”  38 And he commanded the chariot to stop, and they both went down into the water, Philip and the eunuch, and he baptized him. 39 And when they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord caught up Philip; and the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing. 40 But Philip was found at Azotus, and passing on he preached the gospel to all the towns till he came to Caesarea. (Acts 8.26-40, translation is by the author)

Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch is one of my favorites from the book of the Acts of the Apostles. It is a rich story of a biblical character that embodies the multifaceted differences of race, class, gender, religion and sexuality: differences that are the source of a great deal of discomfort, division and debate 2,000 years after Luke wrote about them.

I believe it was Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who noted that Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America. We are Easter people, yet we have given in to the seductions all around us to create a reduced community customized to our preferences, retreating into the gated community of sectarianism: a society of bigotry, discrimination, and hatred arising from attaching importance to perceived differences between ourselves in race, religion, economic status, and politics and so on.

Looking through the lens of strife and tension created by an insidious and ignorant insistence on sectarianism, it strikes me that as Christians, we have not done a very good job of living into the community of Christ that we proclaim we are baptized into. John tells us that Word was made flesh – the Greek word is ‘sarx’ –  human flesh, no mention of color or race – human, like you and I. There is no distinction. There is no longer Jew or Greek; no distinctions based upon race, color or creed. There is one new humanity.

Yet we seem as far as the east is from the west from truly embodying what Luke is showing us here. Why should any of us care about a eunuch from 2,000 years ago? Why should we people of God care about divisions based on race, gender, sexual orientation and class in our church and society? Why do I care- and I do care very deeply. Because God has told us that He cares. The crucifixion shows just how much.

Our pericope is a reminder to us today that we are to live in community. But how to define that community is the challenge in front of us. Our Ethiopian is a very different man. He is black, of questionable theology and an ambiguous gender and sexual orientation. He is, however an earnest seeker who reaches out and is graciously included into the actions of God. Philip’s courage to heed the Holy Spirit is something that our church needs as the debate surrounding homosexual marriage, insidious racism and the inclusion of the LBGT community rages on.

The parallels are all too obvious as Luke has shown in Philip’s challenge to the guardians of right religion in Jerusalem. When we give a banquet, Christ tells us to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind: the types of people that the Pharisees considered “unclean” and under God’s curse; the types of people we Pharisee’s of today call gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual, Black, Hispanic, Hindu, Asian and whatever other judgment a label can make. Empowered by the Spirit, the gospel message draws us in to send us out with the good news for all nations. As with the entire book of Acts, the purpose of this story is about carrying the gospel to all nations, carrying the gospel to the ends of the earth and Luke leaves no doubt as to who is directing Philip and his evangelism. My question for the church, for all of us that claim the label Christian, are we following what the Spirit showed us so long ago? Who are we inviting to the banquet? We are being challenged in this story to rethink many parameters, to rethink what community means, to rethink what the ends of the earth may look like. I suggest that Luke gave us a pretty good idea in Philip and the Eunuch. Sadly, we still have a long way to go.

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Patience

To touch is to heal // To hurt is to steal // If you want to kiss the sky //Better learn how to kneel (on your knees boy!)

from Mysterious Ways by U2, 1991
artwork – “The Patient Job,” by Gerard Seghers, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

“Therefore, brothers and sisters, you must be patient as you wait for the coming of the Lord. Consider the farmer who waits patiently for the coming of rain in the fall and spring, looking forward to the precious fruit of the earth. You also must wait patiently, strengthening your resolve, because the coming of the Lord is near. Don’t complain about each other, brothers and sisters, so that you won’t be judged. Look! The judge is standing at the door!” James 5.7-9 CEB

I had my tonsils removed at the age of nine. It had been a long, miserable winter of measles, chicken pox, strep throat and measles again. Laying in my hospital bed, I was in a lot of pain and I couldn’t wait for mom to arrive and take me home. I kept seeing reflections of people coming down the hallway in the glass on the open door, each time hoping it was her. As the minutes turned into hours, the disappointment mounted along with the anxiety. What if she wasn’t coming? What if something happened? What if she forgot? Well, she did arrive and at the time that was appointed, though it wasn’t soon enough for me. If only I had known more patience. Of course she was coming: moms do not forget.

As we get the season of Advent underway, we join with our sisters and brothers in Christ that have been praying for centuries for the promised return of Jesus. And like them, we need to learn the valuable lesson of patience. Easier said than done when the curse of Amazon Prime has done a pretty good job of eliminating any need of it. A hasty, impatient spirit is simply another form of pride, another form of human arrogance that presumes it knows God’s timetable better than God. James knows that and he is imploring us to do otherwise. That we are being commanded to be patient and that patience is one of the important aspects of the work of the spirit in our lives, tells us just how precious this gift is for us.

This is not an easy time for something that does not come easily to us. Like the nine year old boy anxiously waiting in his hospital room, I suspect that many Christians may share similar anxieties. We live in a world that too often seems broken beyond our capacity to understand, and now,  during this time of Covid, when we are far too isolated from friends, family and community, those anxieties are all the more acute. Fear and anxiety are the breeding ground for the arguments and polarization with which we are sadly too familiar. Be patient. Patience with the “other” is the hallmark of humility and a fruit of the spirit. Be patient, James writes. “You have heard of the endurance of Job. And you have seen what the Lord has accomplished, for the Lord is full of compassion and mercy” (5.11, CEB). Be patient. The Lord has promised, the Lord is coming and the Lord does not forget.

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Help

I begin to realize // Magic in my life //See it manifest in oh, so many ways // Every day is gettin’ better and better // I want to be daily walking close

It gets stronger when you get the feelin’ // When you get it down in your soul // And it makes you feel good // And it makes you feel whole

When the spirit moves you // And it fills you through and through // Every morning and at the break of day // Oh, did ye get healed?

“Did Ye Get Healed” Van Morrison, 1987

Many have called the 16th chapter of John, the ‘Spirit Sermon’ – it has the most emphatic, concentrated teaching of all four gospels about the work of the Holy Spirit thru the church for the world. This chapter and the two that preceded it, contain a beautiful sermon delivered by Christ after the celebration of the Last Supper and on the very threshold of his suffering and departure from the disciples. In this last evening before his death, Jesus tries to show the disciples, two elements of reality that are difficult to hold together: he is going away, yet he will not leave them alone.

 I’m not entirely certain, but I believe it was Karl Barth who once said something about the Trinity along the lines of before there was time, there was already love and relationships. And when time is no more, there will still be love and relationships. Relationships are vital. They are the antidote to isolation and despair. Relationships our source of comfort and guidance when the going gets so tough that it is difficult to keep going. 

And so it is for the intrepid disciples, that group from the F Troop of 1st century Palestine: they are now getting it straight from Jesus about his immanent departure and the going is going to get tough. They are upset and confused. In the preceding chapters, Jesus had alerted his band of merry men that he would be with them only a little longer and now they have lots of questions. Where are you going? How can we follow you if we don’t have a map and why does it have to be a secret? Lots of changes loom on the horizon for the disciples and they are confused, and very likely, a bit frightened. Jesus promises that they will not be left alone through it all. He will send the Advocate.

From verse 7: Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.

Jesus’ departure, like anyone’s departure, means less of the departed’s presence – simple enough – but here’s the surprise – the departure of Jesus also means a very surprising more – the departed’s presence in another form. It is a going that becomes a coming.

The advocate – ho paraklētos –  the Greek literally means the “one called alongside” to help in tough situations like, court appearances to give true , helpful and encouraging testimony and support. Luther’s German translation is “der troster” – the truster, the encourager, the one who encourages trust,  who will take what is Jesus’ and declare it to us – all that the Father has is Jesus’ and the truster will take what is Jesus’ and declare it to you – to us – the people of God, the ekklēsia, the church.

An advocate –  the truster – the paraclete – the Holy spirit has the special mission to bring Jesus, who is the truth in person, to us. The Spirit will show the church what the world gets wrong in its three key assumptions: what the world is wrong about wrong, about what is right and about who has won. The Spirit will guide the church by the full truth into a full relevance with the fullness of Christ at its core.

The Spirit will teach what the world is most wrong about wrong – about sin – “because they do not believe in me” (verse 9). We all have some good ideas about what is wrong in the world and the evil realities that come with those wrongs. I bet we could come up with quite a long list: war, hunger, racism, gun violence and our list would not be wrong as these things are very wrong indeed. But Jesus is saying that list doesn’t go deep enough, far enough and strangely, it is not singular enough.

Jesus says that the church’s teaching, preaching and living through the Spirit’s led inspiration, will show that the root wrong in the world is the failure to believe in Christ – “they do not believe in me”- Jesus. If the world does not believe that Jesus is the great God’s personal visitor to earth,  is indeed the greatest of all wrongs.  The sum total of all evil in the world flows out from this one basic evil. The Spirit’s first and introductory teaching to we the people of God, the church, in our confrontation with the world – a world that is very much inside each one of us in the church –  is that sin, that which is most wrong is the rejection of Jesus. Our pluralist society sees believing in Jesus as a matter of your personal taste that has no bearing on my personal taste. It holds this view rather than the fundamental issue that relationship to Jesus is a sin or righteousness, life or death matter of truth. The Paraklete, the Advocate, the Spirit will move us, the church, to live, preach, and teach Jesus in this urgent evangelical way,  to bring the world, both inside and outside the church, to its senses and we to our center: Jesus.

So what is really right? From verse 10 – it is “about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer…”

I know that we can come up with a wonderful list of all sorts of things that are right and true: justice, beauty, love, children, grandchildren, friends, a beautiful sunrise. Yet John’s gospel is showing us that the Spirit will challenge us once again, to show us that we miss the point of Jesus’ career being the most right thing to ever happen in human history. Going to the Father is shorthand for Jesus declaring that I came to die and rise this weekend; to obediently experience the Father’s mission for me in the world. It is a mission that leads to death on the cross and resurrection in atonement for the sins of the world: a mission that conquers death and meaningless. This a mission that is the most important, helpful and right deed that has ever been done.

Significantly though, it is the Church’s living by faith, not by sight that completes the picture. You will see me no longer – You believe Thomas because you have seen me:but blessed are those who have not seen me and still believe (20.29).

So the most profound wrong in the world is not believing in Jesus and the most profoundly right thing that has ever happened is Jesus career and the Church’s continuing faith in Jesus and his mission – despite his present invisibility – a faith made possible through the work of the Holy Spirit. 

And who wins? It is about “judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned.” Too often in life, it looks like Satan, the forces of evil, are the winners. The good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people deal. From the cross through the holocaust to terrorism, racism, corruption and sleaze, it is the ruler of the world that seems to win the good-evil contests. Jesus tells us here that no, the ruler of the world has already lost and it will be the Holy spirit that will encourage the Church, to live, to preach, and teach, that the victory has been won and that the Lord has risen and reigns in spite of all appearances to the contrary. God wins – and that’s where we come in.

Jesus tells the disciples ahead of time so that they may believe and John’s gospel was written so that we may believe. Wanting to trust the Lord is a form of trusting him, wanting to love others is the seed of loving others. Jesus both gives us this wanting and then takes up this wanting into himself and, by the Spirit, transforms our wanting, into real doing, whether we think or believe, that we are doing enough. It is a peacefulness that expresses trust. There is no need for fear and anxiety when we take up the cross to follow the Lamb as he goes forward to confront the ruler of the world. Led by the Spirit, we follow the way that Jesus goes, which is the way he is, and receive the promise of abiding with us, now and forever. As the events of the immediate and distant future unfold,  we Easter people, the people who follow Jesus, are able to trust that the One who loved us enough to send the Son who sends the Spirit, who still loves us and still seeks to dwell with us.

We know that we are not orphaned.

We are the children of the living God.

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Darkness

What if God was one of us? // Just a slob like one of us // Just a stranger on the bus // Tryin’ to make his way home? // If God had a face what would it look like? // And would you want to see if, seeing meant // That you would have to believe in things like heaven // And in Jesus and the saints, and all the prophets?

“What if God was One of Us,” written by Eric Bazilian, 1995, recorded by Joan Osborne.

We live in a world that is in constant search for love and wholeness in the things that are not; a fruitless search whose result is despair, isolation – an isolation now intensified by Covid-19. The silent darkness that has enshrouded many of our lives may seem overwhelming, the storms and trials all-consuming. I have heard many in recent days question, lament really, at their inability to find Jesus in their lives: a lament that makes the darkness all the darker. Given the tribal warfare of our time, it is quite plausible that we wouldn’t recognize Jesus if we stepped over him, let alone recognize him when we do pass on to glory.

Yes, yes, you say, we know that Jesus reveals himself in the Word and in creation, but if we listen a bit more closely, we find that Jesus is telling us to look elsewhere for his presence: “Then the king will reply to them, ‘I assure you that when you have done it for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you have done it for me.’ (Matt. 25.40).

When we learn to look for Christ in other people, we learn to recognize him and when we learn to recognize him, we find the light for our dark moments.

Photo by Cameron Casey on Pexels.com

Look for Jesus in the poor that populate our food pantry lines. Look for Jesus in the lonesome and embittered that need a kind word. Look for Jesus in those who have lost jobs in businesses that Covid has destroyed and desperately plea for help. Look for Jesus in those that need  medicines we don’t have to cure the disease we do not yet understand. Look for Jesus in the sick and dying as they pray for healing and comfort. Look for Jesus in the homeless, the lost and the addicted that need new direction. Look for Jesus in the essential workers that are not paid like ones that are essential. Look for Jesus in those that provide food for the pantries. Look for Jesus in the grocery store clerk. Look for Jesus in the first repsonders and frontline workers that risk their own lives for others. Look for Jesus in those that give you the kind word. Look for Jesus in those who seek to comfort you and give you new direction. Look for Jesus in school teachers that instill knowledge in our children. Look for Jesus in the one who simply listens, giving space for the pain and lament in your life. Look for Jesus – he is in that person in the mirror.

Jesus is everywhere: in his Word, in creation, in other people and in you as well. When the gloom descends upon you, when the chaos of life in the age of Covid overwhelms you, when you think you are simply done, remember Jesus words to his frightened disciples that thought they were about to drown:  “Just then he spoke to them, “Be encouraged! It’s me. Don’t be afraid.” (Mark 6.50). Jesus, in good times and the bad, is always present. When you learn to see him, you will find the light that the darkness will not and cannot ever overcome.

Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; when through the rivers, they won’t sweep over you.When you walk through the fire, you won’t be scorched and flame won’t burn you. I am the Lord your God, the holy one of Israel, your savior.

Isaiah 43.1-3
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DONE?

I waited patiently for the Lord// He inclined and heard my cry// He brought me up out of the pit// Out of the mire and clay// I will sing, sing a new song// I will sing, sing a new song

“40”, by U2. (Songwriters Adam Clayton, David Evans, Laurence Mullen, Paul David Hewson)

A very dear, dear friend recently checked in to lament the fatigue of Covid and our tribal politics. She was done. Done. The lament of Psalm 13: “How long O Lord?” The psalms are a great tonic any day, but very much so this day. Done.

As the songbook of the Bible, the Psalter is the grammar that forms our faithful speech for worship and prayer which then sets the pattern for how we interact with all of life. Calvin, as he so often does, said it best: “Moreover although The Psalms are replete with all the precepts which serve to frame our life to every part of holiness, piety, and righteousness, yet they will principally teach and train us to bear the cross; and the bearing of the cross is a genuine proof of our obedience, since by doing this, we renounce the guidance of our own affections and submit ourselves entirely to God, leaving him to govern us, and to dispose of our life according to his will, so that the afflictions which are the bitterest and most severe to our nature, become sweet to us, because they proceed from him.” (from John Calvin, “Commentary on Psalms – Volume 1). Indeed.

A couple of years ago, my pastor was preaching through the Psalter, teaching and leading the congregation into a deeper, transformative experience with God’s prayer book. He sought out stories from his flock to bring understanding and tangibility to words that might seem distant and abstract. I was one he asked to reflect upon Psalm 30 and I thought that I would share those comments with you in prayerful hope that if you are also “done,” you may turn to the psalms for the renewal and the hope that lays within.

~

Psalm 30

A psalm. A song for the temple dedication. Of David.

I exalt you, Lord, because you pulled me up; you didn’t let my enemies celebrate over me. Lord, my God, I cried out to you for help, and you healed me. Lord, you brought me up from the grave, brought me back to life from among those going down to the pit.

You who are faithful to the Lord, sing praises to him; give thanks to his holy name! His anger lasts for only a second, but his favor lasts a lifetime. Weeping may stay all night, but by morning, joy!

When I was comfortable, I said, “I will never stumble.”  Because it pleased you, Lord, you made me a strong mountain.

But then you hid your presence. I was terrified. I cried out to you, Lord. I begged my Lord for mercy: “What is to be gained by my spilled blood, by my going down into the pit? Does dust thank you? Does it proclaim your faithfulness? Lord, listen and have mercy on me! Lord, be my helper!”

You changed my mourning into dancing. You took off my funeral clothes         and dressed me up in joy so that my whole being might sing praises to you and never stop. Lord, my God, I will give thanks to you forever.

~

“This morning I can stand here and sincerely proclaim these verses from the 30th psalm:

I exalt you, Lord, because you pulled me up; you didn’t let my enemies celebrate over me. Lord, my God, I cried out to you for help, and you healed me. Lord, you brought me up from the grave, brought me back to life from among those going down to the pit.

That has not always been the case. As a young lad of nine, I remember being mesmerized by the preaching of Rev. Dick Morledge, Senior Pastor of the 1st Presbyterian Church of Bakerstown, Pennsylvania and I found myself thinking – that’s what I want to do: it’s where I want to stand. Roughly ten years later during my junior year at NYU, my father was passing through the city on his way to business in some far eastern destination and we had the chance to grab a steak in the Oak Room Bar at the Plaza Hotel. Our conversation danced around lots of things (I hadn’t been home in almost a year), but at one point he kept saying I belonged in ministry, meaning the pulpit. Instead, in the words of one my favorite modern psalmists, Joni Mitchell, I chose to go chasing after golden Reggie with the apple of temptation and a diamond snake wrapped around my arm.

When I was comfortable, I said, “I will never stumble.” And when you fast forward 20+ years from that dinner, I was indeed standing very comfortably, but not on a strong mountain built by the Lord. It was on a mountain of self-righteousness, greed and pride: a mountain of quicksand.

But then you hid your presence. I was terrified. The sands of that mountain began to crumble and wash away with the miscarriage of twins, the death of our daughter Sarah and several more miscarriages. The blessing of Skylar was followed by another miscarriage and then the miscarriage of career judgment and the miscarriage of my soul. I didn’t simply stumble: it was a full-fledged face plant onto the sidewalk of hell. The Lord finally got the attention of this thick headed Swede via the Honorable DeBevoise.

I cried out to you, Lord. I begged my Lord for mercy:“What is to be gained by my spilled blood, by my going down into the pit? I cried out –  turning to the psalms in particular for words in prayer that I could not form. From Psalm 3: “Lord I have so many enemies” to Psalm 13, “How long will you forget me Lord” to Psalm 23 and Psalm 46’s sense of presence and reassurance; to Psalm 64’s call for the destruction of those many enemies. I prayed the psalms of lament and despair – 17, 28, 31, 59, 61, 77, 102 as well as Psalms 25, 86, 119 and 123, asking for guidance and instruction. In Psalms 62, and the psalms of ascents, I prayed for a desire to trust the Lord more. And I prayed for restoration in Psalms 85, 106, 107 and 137. I prayed as our psalmist does this morning: “Lord listen and have mercy on me! Lord be my helper”

And he did – His anger lasts for only a second, but his favor lasts a lifetime. Weeping may stay all night, but by morning, joy! Our Lord God answered those prayers sending Beth and Skylar and I many angels – several saints individually from this church and all of you sitting here this morning, as well as many who are no longer with us. Our chapter of the body of Christ reached out and because it pleased you, Lord, you made me a strong mountain. His sheepdogs – you know those two from Psalm 23  – goodness and mercy – nipped at my heels hard enough to get me to turn around and gave me a second chance to listen to the voice that has been calling me for more than 50 years.

I have been restored and now stand on a strong mountain. I have been restored to community and restored in my soul; called now to seminary and a life of witness to God’s great mercy and power. I was given the chance to taste and see God’s bounty: blessings that money and materiality will never accomplish. They are blessings that are true and available to all that call his name. They are blessings that we share with our community at large when we go out from here and be the light in everything we say, in everything we do and in everything that we are. Love is not a program and it is not a duty: it is the food and drink of resurrection people and as resurrection people, when we share that food with all we meet, great things happen. As someone that has been fed in this way, I can testify as our psalmist does –   You have changed my mourning into dancing; you took off my funeral clothes and dressed me up in joy so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.  O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever. You who are faithful to the Lord sing praises to him and give thanks to his holy name. “

Done. Amen.

“Whenever the Psalter is abandoned, an incomparable treasure is lost for the Christian church. With its recovery will come unexpected power –

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

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Standing on One Foot

I, I’m a new day rising // I’m a brand new sky // To hang the stars upon tonight // I am a little divided// Do I stay or run away// And leave it all behind? // It’s times like these you learn to live again// It’s times like these you give and give again // It’s times like these you learn to love again// It’s times like these time and time again.

Times Like These, Foo Fighters, (songwriters: Nate Mendel, Dave Grohl, Taylor Hawkins, Chris Shiflett), 2002.

Times like these. Indeed. I recently came across some notes from a series of lectures on the Babylonian exile and in them, Edwin Muir’s poem, One Foot in Eden (1956). It had been a while since I last read it and as I did so again, I found it striking many chords.

One foot in Eden still, I stand
And look across the other land.
The world's great day is growing late,
Yet strange these fields that we have planted
So long with crops of love and hate.
Time's handiworks by time are haunted,
And nothing now can separate
The corn and tares compactly grown.
The armorial weed in stillness bound
About the stalk; these are our own.
Evil and good stand thick around
In fields of charity and sin
Where we shall lead our harvest in.

Yet still from Eden springs the root
As clean as on the starting day.
Time takes the foliage and the fruit
And burns the archetypal leaf
To shapes of terror and of grief
Scattered along the winter way.
But famished field and blackened tree
Bear flowers in Eden never known.
Blossoms of grief and charity
Bloom in these darkened fields alone.
What had Eden ever to say
Of hope and faith and pity and love
Until was buried all its day
And memory found its treasure trove?
Strange blessings never in Paradise
Fall from these beclouded skies.  

One Foot in Eden, Edwin Muir, 1956

I have written many times about the darkness that envelopes our lives – racism, violence, feckless politicians, ravaging unemployment and rising food insecurities paint a picture of bleakness and despair that we may be hard stretched to find a comparative experience.

And equally hard stretched to deal with.

It’s what makes me appreciate the story of the Babylonian exile all the more. You can get a good idea of it’s devastation in the book of Lamentations where you will read some of the most brutal and compelling writing about human pain and suffering that emerged from the ashes and ruins of Jerusalem. The psalms are no slouch in this department either.  Daughter Babylon, you destroyer, a blessing on the one who pays you back the very deed you did to us! A blessing on the one who seizes your children and smashes them against the rock! (Psalm137.8-9). That is deep anger born of a cavernous despair.

Israel’s story became especially poignant as I read through the horrors of the darkness and despair of the exile only to see hope and faith spring out of the ashes of destruction. If there was ever a time for Israel to not hope, it had to be then. Yet, the exiles did return and laid the foundation for a new temple and renewed life. The flowers of hope and faith, like the fire poppies that spring up after a wild fire, blossomed in dark valleys and burned fields.

As I witness a world that seems to be falling apart in madness with each passing day of violence and ever growing fear mongering, I am reminded by these horrors that we, like Israel, are in exile still, angry and isolated.

But yet, hope blossoms.

From Muir – “One foot in Eden still, I stand // And look across the other land. The world’s great day is growing late // Yet strange these fields that we have planted// So long with crops of love and hate // Time’s handiworks by time are haunted, // And nothing now can separate // The corn and tares compactly grown.”

Crops of love and hate tightly interwoven. Joy and tears coexisting. We have glimpses of how things ought to be only to have to struggle with the way things are. It’s no wonder that our feet stumble and slip.

But like our returning exiles, we too have seen the foundation of the new temple laid. Unlike the exiles though, our foundation is built in, on, and with material against which the gates of hell cannot prevail – Jesus Christ. Muir speaks to our hope in Christ, of the now but not yet: “But famished field and blackened tree //Bear flowers in Eden never known.// Blossoms of grief and charity // Bloom in these darkened fields alone.// What had Eden ever to say // Of hope and faith and pity and love // Until was buried all its day// And memory found its treasure trove? // Strange blessings never in Paradise// Fall from these beclouded skies.”

As Easter people, we stand with one foot in Eden: the dawning kingdom of God. We are filled with enduring hope for the return of the greatest gift that ever was. We stand and blossom, fed and supported by our faith in that hope. Strange blessings? Perhaps. But blessings that call for singing a new song.

I waited patiently for the Lord // He inclined and heard my cry// He brought me up out of the pit // Out of the mire and clay// I will sing, sing a new song // I will sing, sing a new song // How long to sing this song // How long to sing this song // How long, how long, how long // How long, to sing this song// He set my feet upon a rock // And made my footsteps firm // Many will see // Many will see and fear // I will sing, sing a new song // I will sing, sing a new song.

40, U2 (songwriters: Adam Clayton, David Evans, Laurence Mullen, Paul David Hewson), 1983
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Travel Plans?

Grace// She takes the blame// She covers the shame// Removes the stain// It could be her name// Grace// It’s the name for a girl// It’s also a thought that// Changed the world// And when she walks on the street// You can hear the strings// Grace finds goodness// In everything

Grace, from the album All That You Can’t Leave Behind, U2

The book of Jonah is perhaps one of the most familiar books of the minor prophets – after all, any Sunday school worth its salt includes the story of the great fish as part of its’ lesson plan at some point. The number of children’s books about the tale with the whale is countless, but I think too often, the lesson of Jonah is often missed and like the book of Job, this story is one that ends in a bit of a puzzle for many because of that.

Jonah is commanded by God to go to Nineveh, the ancient version of the ISIS caliphate, and warn them of their impending destruction unless they repent. Jonah would rather drink bleach and takes off in the other direction. It’s a downward spiral of futility that puts Jonah in a very precarious position. After all, I can’t think any place much darker and viler than the belly of a great fish – or the ISIS caliphate.

But to say this is a whale of a tale of a whale misses the point. While there may be some reason to commend the traditional view of equating Jonah and Jewish exclusivism, I believe that it is not the real point – it’s like the great fish – another red herring, no pun intended. After all, Jonah is not given a Jewish message of Yawehism – perhaps simply understood as the belief that ‘He Brings into Existence whatever Exists.’  Nor was Jonah’s message about Torah or monotheism for the pagan Ninevites. God commanded him to go and simply cry out “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” (Verse 3.2). We need to look a little bit deeper. I hope that you come to see that Jonah is first and foremost a book about God’s love and care for his creation, his freedom to act graciously and the relationship between justice and mercy. It is a narrative that is clearly controlled by God with the intent of demonstrating these attributes.

Let’s look at an often very overlooked part of this story – the qiqayon, in Hebrew; the plant in English. I think it is the hinge on which this whole story turns. The plant is introduced in verse 4.6 and it is the use of the compound divine name that serves to signal that there is much more going on here.

The ‘Lord God’ is used to announce the presence and activity of the plant. The key to the plant’s significance lies in understanding its role in the two-fold function of ‘Lord’ – justice- and ‘God’- mercy: that is, to be a shade from adversity and to rescue Jonah from his morally wrong attitude as displayed in his anger. The plant serves to bring forth the overarching theme and purpose of the book of Jonah: God’s freedom to act graciously and the relationship between justice and mercy. Further, the plant, as demonstrated in the analogy that closes the book, serves to show that Jonah equates with Nineveh: God is putting Jonah in Nineveh’s shoes if you will.

Jonah has an impeding ‘evil’ just as Nineveh does. For Jonah, the evil comes in the form of the sun and the searing wind. In Nineveh’s case, it is their anticipated destruction as foretold by Jonah. Both Jonah and Nineveh embark on actions to prevent any evil from befalling them: Nineveh repents and Jonah builds a booth. An act of divine grace supplements both efforts: God changes his mind about Nineveh and he appoints, that is, he causes a plant to grow over Jonah for shade. The kicker is the worm and the gracious act of God being revoked: the plant dies. Jonah feels the full force of his evil and it brings to bear the futility of his own efforts to protect himself with the booth.

The point is that the plant serves, in this context, as an object lesson for Jonah. At the onset of chapter four, we see that Jonah is angry with God when he perceives that Nineveh’s repentance was not sufficiently sincere to warrant God’s grace. The Ninevites “believed God” but there was no sign of any real repentance such as a conversion to Judaism, perhaps. All that we see is that the Ninevites engaged in some superficial ritual and lamented. That was enough for God: God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it (3.10).

By putting Jonah in Nineveh’s shoes, God does to Jonah, what Jonah wanted God to do to Nineveh. Jonah’s anger in verse eight stems from God’s unmerited grace not working for him (Jonah) but it did work for Nineveh when it was also unmerited. The issue at hand was not what Jonah or Nineveh deserved or did not deserve, but more importantly whether Jonah’s efforts were capable of providing relief and we see that they were not. In his own mind, Jonah’s anger was warranted anger on deuteronomistic grounds -Nineveh deserved it. God had applied the verdict and Jonah delivered it. The function of the unpredictable plant served to show Jonah that his was a theology of selfishness. He did nothing to create the plant, grow it or otherwise. Likewise, his efforts with the booth were no more effective than the shallow acts of repentance made by Nineveh whose condition remained wretched. As the closing verses and analogy make very clear, God’s right to bestow grace cannot be limited by anyone’s narrow theology- it was about God’s sovereign right to do so. 

Jonah was never about unblemished, perfect faith, or a condemnation of the attitude of Jews toward Gentiles and Jewish exclusivism. If that were the case, then the book might very likely have been about urging Jews not to act like Jonah and respond as Nineveh responded.

Repentance is not capable of providing deliverance by its own virtue any more than Jonah’s booth being sufficient for relief. It can stir God’s compassion which Jonah realized and why he ran away in the first place.  In these acts of grace, God is not compromised because the sin is not forgiven: it is merely postponed. Forgiveness would come later.

So, as one of the gentlemen in my Saturday morning men’s bible study group inquired as we concluded our study of another book of scripture – what does all of this mean for John Doe? What do we see when we gaze into the mirror of the book of Jonah?

I would suggest that we see people of faith disgusted with the course of world history in many ways and bearing resentment against God’s seeming lack of activity and forbearance of the evil that the world is drowning in. So very often we witness ourselves expounding scripture and simultaneously throwing our hands up in despondent resignation – O Lord, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live (4.3). A few days of vacation -time in the pleasant shade – and all of our worries about the world and God drift away.  The joy of being under the unpredictable plant is witnessed in the new car, the pay raise, the shopping spree – that is until the worm attacks and the plant withers: the car breaks down, the children need new shoes, the rent is due and the pay check has been spent on food.

Do you have the right to be angry about the plant? (4.9).  Nineveh, like folks that love our new cars and vacations, is part of creation, the great city in which there are more than 120,000 people who cannot tell right from wrong and many animals are there also (4.11). God values all of his creation- just ask Job. As he tells Job,  “I can show you and I can explain it ad nauseum, but you’re not going to get it – just trust me.” Or in the question posed to Jonah: “Should I not be concerned for that great city Nineveh?” The open ended question at the close of Jonah is much like that of never directly addressing Job’s lament. While God does not answer or leaves us with a question, he is at the same time, seeking our trust and agreement to engage and further the journey from the now to the not yet of the kingdom. The worm induced loss of the shade of the plant is to awaken us to God’s compassion for his creation and our grasp of that. Jesus said as much about our loss induced anger, when he taught how the people of Nineveh would arise and condemn the current generation of Pharisees and Sadducees. God arrives at his goal to save “Nineveh” with the deliverance of Christ – a goal of compassion and mercy that conquers death. Grace. She walks the streets and finds beauty in everything. It is to this hope that we who claim to be Easter people, have been called. But whether or not the Lord arrives at his destination with us, depends on where we choose to travel – Tarshish or Nineveh.

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The Irony of Blindness

Short people got no reason to live// They got little hands// And little eyes// And they walk around// Tellin’ great big lies// They got little noses// And tiny little teeth// They wear platform shoes// On their nasty little feet// Well, I don’t want no short people// Don’t want no short people// Don’t want no short people ‘Round here…

From the song “Short People” by Randy Newman, 1977

Short people – short on tolerance; short on humility; short in sight; short on love of neighbor. Bigotry, racism, hateful ignorance. Randy Newman’s ironic poke at racism and bigotry reminded me of another person persecuted for difference. I want to peek inside a story from Luke 19, verses 1-10 that most probably first heard about in a Sunday school song:

Zacchaeus was a wee, little man // And a wee, little man was he.// He climbed up in a sycamore tree // For the Lord he wanted to see.

Jesus is on the road at Jericho, a wealthy city in the foothills leading to Jerusalem – it is the last leg of his journey to the temple, when he encounters Zacchaeus, the lead tax collector, a man universally despised, short in stature, which may very well be referring to his communal status as well as his height. Poor guy – he’s the one in the room everyone hates and he knows it. He has to run along the parade route behind the crowds in front of him – crowds that tighten their positions to keep him out. And there is little Zacchaeus, jumping up and down, trying to get a glimpse of Jesus, when he comes to the sycamore tree: a tree with low branches that made climbing easy and a tree loaded with large leaves that would hinder his presence from being detected by the crowd. A wealthy, grown man, clambering up a tree. What made him throw embarrassment, shame, and ridicule aside, not caring what people thought and what they might possibly see of his more private affairs?

He simply wanted to get a look at Jesus. After all, Jesus was a man that welcomed people like Zacchaeus. Jesus even has one of the guys from the Brotherhood of Tax Collectors local 106 in Galilee as one of his disciples. He must be an okay guy.

But Jesus spots him instead and tells him to come down.

The marginalized, the people on the wrong side of the crowds, the ones pushed off to the shoulder of the road, the ones blocked from participating in the community, the ones forced to climb a tree, are the ones who see most clearly. The blind beggar at the end of Luke 18 sees without eyes and Zacchaeus sees with his heart. And yet, the insiders, the disciples, the good white, evangelicals lining the roads telling others to go away, are the real blind ones. They don’t want those short people hanging around. The light of salvation is standing right in front of them and all they can see are their earthly expectations; all they can see is their own self-worth; all they can see are those who think and act like they do; all that they can see are their self-serving restrictions on who is in and who is out; all they see is a riddle; all they see is that they want to remain blind. It’s more comfortable and they grumble at anything that challenges them otherwise. Fake news.

The irony in all of this is that this is our story as well. This passage is not just some far removed happenstance on a dusty road in Palestine 2,000 years ago. It’s a story we continue to enact in varying degrees today, day after day. Zacchaeus was stereotyped and stigmatized by the blindness of the crowds much the same way we do grumbling about all of them: the opposite political party, immigrants, Muslims and their burquas, Jews and their yarmulkes, Hindus and their bindis, atheists, straight, the ‘nones’, the gay couple that just moved into the neighborhood, the transgender boy that wants to join the scouts and those Asian, black, and Hispanic people that seem to be everywhere and now the neighborhood just isn’t the same. We whisper about the couple getting divorced, the family dealing with an addicted member. We condemn the poor as lazy and self-seeking in their charity or the felon who must check a box for the rest of his or her life, condemning far too many to underemployment and marginality. Worse yet, we proclaim prisons as houses of correction where there is no effort to do so, insuring the condemnation of many to an endless cycle of poverty and prison. After all, I’m not like you: I must deserve it.

We stereotype and stigmatize all day long. The disciples did it when they failed to understand the plain language of Jesus, remaining in their stereotyped expectations of messianic deliverance, not bothering to lift the veils from their eyes to truly see what scripture and Jesus had been saying all along. And when we revel in our attitudes of exclusion and self-righteousness, we, like the disciples, miss the message of Jesus and the cross. The kingdoms of our making, the kingdoms of racial division, white privilege, political tribalism, violence, materialistic greed are antithetical to the kingdom of God, but we continue to build them because we are just too willingly blind to accept the hard truth of Christ and the cross.

Jesus emphatically states: “Zacchaeus, today salvation has come to your house, and I am coming over for dinner.” This is the nub of the scandal of Zacchaeus’s story: Jesus was coming over for dinner. It’s at the heart of the problem the crowds are having as they grumble – he eats with sinners and tax collectors! Dinner parties in the Greco-Roman era were the society balls and political fund raising dinners of their time. It was the place to see and be seen, to affirm at the very least, to promote at its best, or to diminish at its worst, the social standing of anyone. To be invited to a dinner party means you are part of the ‘in’ crowd, you are part of the family.

Yet, here’s the beautiful thing. You don’t go looking for Jesus, Jesus comes looking for you. And that’s the good news for you and I, the blind and the lost. The good news is that today salvation has come to all of us because the Human One has come to seek us out. Jesus says to all who believe in him, that today, he is coming into our houses, coming to we who are what we stereotype and stigmatize, we who are “them” – he is coming to have dinner with us. Jesus call us to the table – all of us – the sinner and tax collectors, the blind and the broken, to affirm our place as children of the living God, spared certain destruction by the unmerited gift of the cross, to sit as one family gathered around the gifts of God for the people of God.

Late in his song, Newman sings: Short People are just the same as you and I. All men are brothers until the day they die. Imago dei – we are all made in the image of God. Go into the world today and every day with unyielding gratitude and the overflowing joy of a people found with sight restored – one family –  not white, black, brown yellow, red, not Republican or Democrat, straight, gay or in-between, – one blessed family that has room for all: a family invited to the greatest dinner party of all time. Thanks be to God – Amen.

Masthead Artwork: By Niels Larsen Stevns – Own work (photo: Gunnar Bach Pedersen) (Randers Museum of Art, Randers, Denmark), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1428023

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Cataracts

I can see clearly now the rain is gone// I can see all obstacles in my way// Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind// It’s gonna be a bright (bright)// Bright (bright) sunshiny day

Johnny Nash, 1971

I recently had posted something about holy happenings that generated some discussion about my understanding of the location of God. Somehow, the conversation shifted to Israel’s understanding and whether I was challenged by its ancient perspective. In a word, no. For the ancient Israelites, the symbols of altar, tabernacle and temple functioned for them as images of God’s house and that God dwelled with his people there. As a Christian, I believe that their understanding of a living God, active in creation and dwelling with us was fully confirmed in Jesus Christ because all the fullness of God was pleased to live in him (Colossians 1.19).

That being said, I share the awareness of the psalmist’s regarding the presence of God everywhere: He loves righteousness and justice; the Lord’s faithful love fills the whole earth (Psalm 33.5); But your loyal love, Lord, extends to the skies; your faithfulness reaches the clouds. Your righteousness is like the strongest mountains; your justice is like the deepest sea. Lord, you save both humans and animals. (Psalm 36.5-6); Lord, the world is full of your faithful love! Teach me your statutes! (Psalm 119.6).

And when I stop to remove the cataracts, I find that I locate God in a myriad of places, not the least of which is in the lives of my wife, daughter and I. We are where we are, and who we are, as family and individuals because of God’s direction and blessings owing to the work of the Holy Spirit that has manifested itself in the help, support and love from Christian, Jew and Muslim alike, as we struggled through incredibly dark, dangerous times.

I find God’s presence in the laughter and song of the children of our nursery school and in the love and care that the small group of teachers and aides shower upon them. I may be “Mr. Keith’ to the little ones, but each and every one of them are God moments for me.

I witnessed God’s presence around the table of older men that met (pre Covid-19) regularly every Saturday morning to share coffee, lots of ‘fish’ stories and most importantly, his Word. I have observed the work of the Spirit in several of their lives; a transformation taking them deeper into their faith and scriptural understanding. I find God’s presence in the work of our food pantry and its many volunteers that assist 100 families a month as they struggle with food insecurities.

But the most breathtaking, awesome, overwhelming evidence of God’s presence is what I witness in my daughter’s testimony. Skylar recently unearthed the Anne Frank of her generation in a young woman that perished in the Columbine High School massacre. The woman’s story triggered reactions from my daughter that demonstrate the presence and deep love of God; an awareness that is challenging her, but so very, very importantly, showing her God’s work and presence in her life.

All of these are instances of the sacred for me: that is, where the material and the spiritual have, and do, intersect. As I said, once you remove the cataracts…