Matthew 15:29 - 37
Jesus left there and went along the Sea of Galilee. Then he went up on a mountainside and sat down. Great crowds came to him, bringing the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute and many others, and laid them at his feet; and he healed them. The people were amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the crippled made well, the lame walking and the blind seeing. And they praised the God of Israel.
Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I have compassion for these people; they have already been with me three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, or they may collapse on the way.”
His disciples answered, “Where could we get enough bread in this remote place to feed such a crowd?”
“How many loaves do you have?” Jesus asked.
“Seven,” they replied, “and a few small fish.”
He told the crowd to sit down on the ground. Then he took the seven loaves and the fish, and when he had given thanks, he broke them and gave them to the disciples, and they in turn to the people. They all ate and were satisfied. Afterward the disciples picked up seven basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over.
Advent signals a coming or an arriving. It suggests a beginning. We who live after the fact recognize Jesus as the coming One, the arriving presence of God in our world. He fully lived into both humanity and divinity. He was fully who God created and intended him to be. Years of waiting found there fullness in him.
It was as if persons for centuries had lived in a state of famine with little nourishment. The arrival of Jesus, who embodied God's fullness, suggested a time of feasting.
You might read the text in any number of ways today. I want to suggest two approaches to this reading.
First, the Gospel reading in Matthew connects to the Old Testament reading from the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah is a popular prophet in the early days of Advent for reasons I briefly mentioned in a meditation earlier this week.
In Isaiah 25:6 - 10, the prophet looked to a day when God would provide a feast of plenty for the people of the world . . . the finest wines and most generous portions of food for all those who hunger . . . God swallowing up death and wiping tears from the faces of those who live in sadness and grief. Then this line:
"Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation." (Is. 25:9)
Now, read today's Matthew 15:29 - 37 passage in the context of Isaiah 25. "We have waited . . . we have waited." Waited for a feast. Waited for God's salvation. Waited for the time of gladness and rejoicing in God's healing goodness. Then the advent: Jesus arrives! The blind see, the mute speak, the disabled walk, the broken are made whole (Mt. 15:30 - 31). Further, with echoes of Isaiah, Jesus noticed the famished throng, hungry and malnourished. He fed them with such an abundance that the leftovers could be used to feed many, many more (Mt. 15:36 - 37).
Jesus enacted Isaiah's prophecy. Was this the feast Isaiah foresaw? Was this what the people had waited for?
Jesus was fond of feeding people. Physical hunger did not go unnoticed with him. The eyes of his heart were attuned to human need. His inner being was shaped in compassion. Mercy was his DNA.
It is one thing -- and can be a good thing! -- to see human need and decide to move toward it in a healing way. It is another step, though, to have our hearts shaped over time until we move toward need naturally. The work of God's Spirit within us is the work of shaping our hearts so that over time we move organically toward the least, little and deprived without being prompted.
The first approach to today's text moves among the words at the level of actual human hunger and need.
Second, I want to offer a spiritual understanding of the Matthew 15 text -- one, perhaps, of many.
My thoughts center on Jesus' words in verse 32:
“I have compassion for these people; they have already been with me three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, or they may collapse on the way.”
The term "the Way" was an early designation for followers of Christ. It suggests journey and movement, indicating that our life connected to God is not static, but dynamic and full of movement.
So at one level, Jesus was concerned for the physical well-being of the people, concerned that they had food as they followed him from city to hillside to village to countryside . . . lest they faint on the way.
But at another level, a more symbolic level, Jesus was speaking of any who followed him, concerned that they not fall aside, that they not faint from malnourishment, that they have spiritual food to sustain them through all of life's celebration points and despairing ditches.
Often in the Gospels, food and hunger are spiritual symbols for the nourishment (or lack thereof) that feeds the inner person. Hunger suggests that a person is inwardly yearning, soul-hungry, desiring the sustenance that comes only from a life-giving connection with God. "Food" is the act of living one's life in a way that fills out the destiny God has ordained for a person. (Jesus "food" was to do the will of his Father.)
I find it assuring that Jesus recognizes when my inner resources are low, that in his "compassion on the people" he sees me running on empty, and thus provides life-giving, energy-giving resources lest I faint "on the way."
I'm very glad to be sustained -- even if by the leftovers from anothers feast -- in the journey I'm called to walk.
So today I look for the resources of Jesus on my journey. What is being given to me that will sustain my inner life? What will keep my upright on the path? What connects me to life? What sets me free to live a transformed life in order to be a transforming presence in the world? I will look for this food . . . notice it . . . and take it into myself.
If there are leftovers, I will share them with my neighbor.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
The First Tuesday of Advent -- November 30, 2010
Luke 10:21 - 24
At that time Jesus, full of joy through the Holy Spirit, said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.
“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows who the Son is except the Father, and no one knows who the Father is except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”
Then he turned to his disciples and said privately, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I tell you that many prophets and kings wanted to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.”
You'll notice that today's passage from Luke is full of the language of seeing and hearing, hiddenness and revealing. These words represent an underground current that runs through the Gospels. It is a current that is especially strong during Advent.
For all of us there are things hidden. The basic condition of our humanity is that we don't see what is real. We live in illusion. We don't see what is most true about ourselves, others, the world, and most of all about God.
Furthermore, since this condition of un-seeing and un-hearing is fundamentally a part of our condition as humans, it is completely unfair to chastise persons for not seeing what they cannot see. Yet, so much of traditional religious expression holds people over a barrel for not knowing what they don't know or for not seeing what they are not able to see.
So if chastisement for not seeing and not knowing is out of bounds, what should be our posture?
The prophets of old may not have seen the fullness of God, according to Jesus' words, but they spoke what they did see. And beyond speaking what they saw and proclaiming the experience of God they had, these prophets pointed to a time when the incompleteness of seeing and knowing would be fulfilled.
They spoke with confidence and faith about what they knew and experienced of God. But there was also a humility about the prophets. They did not know what they did not know; however, they knew that they did not know. It makes all the difference.
Strange as it may seem, the beginning place of seeing is to acknowledge that you don't see. The beginning place of knowledge and wisdom is to confess that you don't know.
During Advent we confess that we live in darkness. Like the Hebrew Prophets, we testify to what we have experienced of God. We also acknowledge that we don't see totally. The illusion with which we live darkens our sight, clouding both our seeing and our knowing.
The light embodied by Jesus illumines our lives, enables our seeing, enlivens our knowing.
This is how Thomas Merton speaks of seeing and knowing in the spiritual life:
In the spiritual life there are no tricks and no short cuts. . . . One cannot begin to face the real difficulties of the life of prayer and meditation unless one is first perfectly content to be a beginner and really experience oneself as one who knows little or nothing, and has a desperate need to learn the bare rudiments. Those who think they "know" from the beginning never, in fact, come to know anything. . . .
We do not want to be beginners. But let us be convinced of the fact that we will never be anything else but beginners, all our life.
At that time Jesus, full of joy through the Holy Spirit, said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this was your good pleasure.
“All things have been committed to me by my Father. No one knows who the Son is except the Father, and no one knows who the Father is except the Son and those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”
Then he turned to his disciples and said privately, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. For I tell you that many prophets and kings wanted to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.”
You'll notice that today's passage from Luke is full of the language of seeing and hearing, hiddenness and revealing. These words represent an underground current that runs through the Gospels. It is a current that is especially strong during Advent.
For all of us there are things hidden. The basic condition of our humanity is that we don't see what is real. We live in illusion. We don't see what is most true about ourselves, others, the world, and most of all about God.
Furthermore, since this condition of un-seeing and un-hearing is fundamentally a part of our condition as humans, it is completely unfair to chastise persons for not seeing what they cannot see. Yet, so much of traditional religious expression holds people over a barrel for not knowing what they don't know or for not seeing what they are not able to see.
So if chastisement for not seeing and not knowing is out of bounds, what should be our posture?
The prophets of old may not have seen the fullness of God, according to Jesus' words, but they spoke what they did see. And beyond speaking what they saw and proclaiming the experience of God they had, these prophets pointed to a time when the incompleteness of seeing and knowing would be fulfilled.
They spoke with confidence and faith about what they knew and experienced of God. But there was also a humility about the prophets. They did not know what they did not know; however, they knew that they did not know. It makes all the difference.
Strange as it may seem, the beginning place of seeing is to acknowledge that you don't see. The beginning place of knowledge and wisdom is to confess that you don't know.
During Advent we confess that we live in darkness. Like the Hebrew Prophets, we testify to what we have experienced of God. We also acknowledge that we don't see totally. The illusion with which we live darkens our sight, clouding both our seeing and our knowing.
The light embodied by Jesus illumines our lives, enables our seeing, enlivens our knowing.
This is how Thomas Merton speaks of seeing and knowing in the spiritual life:
In the spiritual life there are no tricks and no short cuts. . . . One cannot begin to face the real difficulties of the life of prayer and meditation unless one is first perfectly content to be a beginner and really experience oneself as one who knows little or nothing, and has a desperate need to learn the bare rudiments. Those who think they "know" from the beginning never, in fact, come to know anything. . . .
We do not want to be beginners. But let us be convinced of the fact that we will never be anything else but beginners, all our life.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
The First Monday of Advent -- November 29, 2010
Isaiah 2:1 - 5
This is what Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem:
In the last days
the mountain of the LORD’s temple will be established
as the highest of the mountains;
it will be exalted above the hills,
and all nations will stream to it.
Many peoples will come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD,
to the house of the God of Jacob.
He will teach us his ways,
so that we may walk in his paths.”
The law will go out from Zion,
the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.
He will judge between the nations
and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore.
Come, house of Jacob,
let us walk in the light of the LORD.
The Hebrew Prophets show up prominently throughout Advent. These prophets were not fortune-tellers, predicting what was going to happen in the future. They were persons deeply rooted in God. They saw life with the eyes of God. They experienced life with the heart of God. Thus, they were able to speak into current events with conviction because their ministries carried into their life-world an unbreakable connection to God.
Isaiah represents the prophetic tradition of the 8th century B.C. Along with Hosea, Micah and Amos, Isaiah emerged as a voice for God in the 8th century, speaking of God in some very revolutionary ways. These four prophetic figures in particular introduced to Hebrew religion an ethical vision that emphasized how the poor, marginalized and broken were treated. Until the prophetic ministries of Isaiah, Amos, Hosea, and Micah, holiness was known primarily as being separate from that which was unclean. Holiness was characterized by this separation, by standing apart from the foreign gods, for instance. In oversimplified terms, holiness was defined by what you were against more than what you were for.
Those who were highly committed to Yahweh, for example, were considered holy, even if that commitment to Yahweh led them to kill persons who worshiped other gods. Holiness had nothing to do with one's inner life or relational life. Persons could be holy even while abusing others in the outer world.
[Intermission: You'll notice that within most every religious tradition this notion of holiness and commitment lives on. In fundamentalist expressions of most every tradition, there is little concern for justice, ethics and the treatment of the little and the least. Life (and holiness) is measured by "devotion to Yahweh."]
Isaiah and his contemporaries introduce to our understanding a God who is concerned for people, especially for the little and the least in our world. Time after time in their prophecy, they saw a future time when God will come to rescue the people, when God would transform the hearts and consciousness of all people. Isaiah wrote about a revolution of the heart, a complete transformation of the human person that would treat all persons with dignity and love. This inner transformation would provide a new sense of holiness and would lead to the transformation of the world, a birthing of hope and peace.
Isaiah 2:1-5 is multi-layered. I encourage you to pray with it today, to reflect on its words, and to hear it as a word of peace and hope. I'll say just a couple of things about it.
First, the heart of the passage is the imagery of "the mountain" and "Zion." Geographically, they refer to Jerusalem, which rested on a mount and was the center of religious, social and work life for Israel.
In the passage it is a central place, a core. It is not a place of magic, but a place which shoots people of peace, justice and transformation out into the world. Coming to "the mountain" or to the "Lord's temple" (at the mountain) is not a permanent move. Rather, coming to the "mount" prepares one to be propelled into the world as an agent of transformation . . . for instance, as a person of peace rather than a person of war ("beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks").
Second, this movement to the center and back out will be for all peoples . . . "all nations" (v. 2), "many peoples" (v. 3 & 4). This in not an exclusive invitation for one group or one nation, which is a radical departure for Israel. In fact, Isaiah sees a time when war ceases ("nation will not take up sword against nation," v. 4) and people will give themselves to caring for one another (suggested by the images for harvest/food in "plowshares" and "pruning hooks").
Read through these verses today. Notice a word, phrase or image that seems particularly alive for you. Sit with it. Explore it. Squeeze out its meaning for your own life. Hear God's Word, through Isaiah, for yourself today, then carry it with you.
"Come, O people of God, let us walk in the light of the Lord."
This is what Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem:
In the last days
the mountain of the LORD’s temple will be established
as the highest of the mountains;
it will be exalted above the hills,
and all nations will stream to it.
Many peoples will come and say,
“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD,
to the house of the God of Jacob.
He will teach us his ways,
so that we may walk in his paths.”
The law will go out from Zion,
the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.
He will judge between the nations
and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore.
Come, house of Jacob,
let us walk in the light of the LORD.
The Hebrew Prophets show up prominently throughout Advent. These prophets were not fortune-tellers, predicting what was going to happen in the future. They were persons deeply rooted in God. They saw life with the eyes of God. They experienced life with the heart of God. Thus, they were able to speak into current events with conviction because their ministries carried into their life-world an unbreakable connection to God.
Isaiah represents the prophetic tradition of the 8th century B.C. Along with Hosea, Micah and Amos, Isaiah emerged as a voice for God in the 8th century, speaking of God in some very revolutionary ways. These four prophetic figures in particular introduced to Hebrew religion an ethical vision that emphasized how the poor, marginalized and broken were treated. Until the prophetic ministries of Isaiah, Amos, Hosea, and Micah, holiness was known primarily as being separate from that which was unclean. Holiness was characterized by this separation, by standing apart from the foreign gods, for instance. In oversimplified terms, holiness was defined by what you were against more than what you were for.
Those who were highly committed to Yahweh, for example, were considered holy, even if that commitment to Yahweh led them to kill persons who worshiped other gods. Holiness had nothing to do with one's inner life or relational life. Persons could be holy even while abusing others in the outer world.
[Intermission: You'll notice that within most every religious tradition this notion of holiness and commitment lives on. In fundamentalist expressions of most every tradition, there is little concern for justice, ethics and the treatment of the little and the least. Life (and holiness) is measured by "devotion to Yahweh."]
Isaiah and his contemporaries introduce to our understanding a God who is concerned for people, especially for the little and the least in our world. Time after time in their prophecy, they saw a future time when God will come to rescue the people, when God would transform the hearts and consciousness of all people. Isaiah wrote about a revolution of the heart, a complete transformation of the human person that would treat all persons with dignity and love. This inner transformation would provide a new sense of holiness and would lead to the transformation of the world, a birthing of hope and peace.
Isaiah 2:1-5 is multi-layered. I encourage you to pray with it today, to reflect on its words, and to hear it as a word of peace and hope. I'll say just a couple of things about it.
First, the heart of the passage is the imagery of "the mountain" and "Zion." Geographically, they refer to Jerusalem, which rested on a mount and was the center of religious, social and work life for Israel.
In the passage it is a central place, a core. It is not a place of magic, but a place which shoots people of peace, justice and transformation out into the world. Coming to "the mountain" or to the "Lord's temple" (at the mountain) is not a permanent move. Rather, coming to the "mount" prepares one to be propelled into the world as an agent of transformation . . . for instance, as a person of peace rather than a person of war ("beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks").
Second, this movement to the center and back out will be for all peoples . . . "all nations" (v. 2), "many peoples" (v. 3 & 4). This in not an exclusive invitation for one group or one nation, which is a radical departure for Israel. In fact, Isaiah sees a time when war ceases ("nation will not take up sword against nation," v. 4) and people will give themselves to caring for one another (suggested by the images for harvest/food in "plowshares" and "pruning hooks").
Read through these verses today. Notice a word, phrase or image that seems particularly alive for you. Sit with it. Explore it. Squeeze out its meaning for your own life. Hear God's Word, through Isaiah, for yourself today, then carry it with you.
"Come, O people of God, let us walk in the light of the Lord."
Saturday, November 27, 2010
The First Sunday of Advent -- November 28, 2010
Matthew 24:37 - 44
"As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him."
The Gospel reading for the first day of Advent is a call to readiness. To hear it, I first of all have to un-hear it.
In the church of my youth, this passage was used as an evangelism tool. There was even an evangelistic movie that was popular at youth night events which depicted groups of people going about normal, daily activities. Suddenly one person from among the group would disappear. Several scenarios all had the same result: One person, always the "Christian" would disappear, while all the "heathen" youth would remain. The goal of the movie was to scare persons to faith in Jesus. If Jesus came to gather his people, no one wanted to be left behind.
More recently others have traded on those same ideas -- and gotten ridiculously wealthy doing so -- by marketing for the masses passages like this one.
[Intermission: During my college years I asked a youth leader why he felt the need to scare young people to Jesus. It seemed like faulty motivation to me, especially when I saw that a number of those who were "scared to Jesus" didn't "stay with Jesus." His reply was that it was better they get scared to Jesus than not to come to Jesus at all. I contended that being "scared to Jesus" was probably not "coming to Jesus" at all, and made authentic relationship with God even more difficult down the road for these young people. I still believe that.]
So first of all, do what you need to do in order to un-hear this passage. Read it without baggage from your past. Hear it without the whispers of some other Bible interpreter shaping your listening. Just listen to what it says without the interpretive baggage you're carrying with you.
The passage is about preparedness. It affirms the watchfulness and alertness that are inherent in getting ready.
There are different ways to get ready for some event. One is to quit what you are doing and simply wait. Some folks take this track. Through the years as the "second coming" of Jesus has been proclaimed and heeded, persons have quit their jobs and looked to the skies. In the days of my youth I remember the group who stopped working and climbed atop their houses to wait for Jesus, apparently wanting to meet him from the housetops before the rest of us on the ground could greet him.
To sit idle on a housetop or in a field or even at a church's altar is one way to wait and watch.
But another way to wait and get ready is to do what you do, to continue in whatever life is about for you, but to do so with a sense of mindfulness and watchfulness. The tip-off is that in "the days of Noah" persons were engaged in everyday activities, in eating and drinking, marrying and loving, working and tending responsibilities. It is possible to do those things without any sense of mindfulness or watchfulness, and so to miss the advent of Jesus.
The point, though, is that in these very mundane and ordinary life-events the presence of Jesus is experienced. It doesn't necessarily have to be the Bach concert, or the stunning Gothic architecture, or the beach at sunset, or the chorus of "Shout to the Lord."
I believe the Gospel really gets at watchfulness and awareness. They are the spiritual disciplines few people want to talk about. It is difficult to be present where you are to life as it unfolds in you and around you. It takes time and intention to cultivate the capacity to notice and be watchful, to live mindfully.
In fact, I believe that the obsession in some circles with the Second Coming of Christ is a shield to buffer us from the discipline of a daily, moment-by-moment attentiveness to the presence of Christ in the world. It is so much more glorious to envision some grand, heavenly scene accompanied by trumpet blasts and fanfare, angel masses and disappearing Christians. In reality, I think the coming of Jesus is much more subtle, much more ordinary.
Besides, by focusing solely on a glorious second appearance of Christ in our world, we act as if there has been this huge vacuum in our world between his birth and his future mysterious "second coming." While the Christian spiritual tradition insists that he has come and will come, it also does not overlook that he continues coming back into our world at every millisecond. He comes and shapes and creates all things momently. So his Second Coming -- in glory -- may be a pretty big deal, but his 459- gazillioneth coming into our every day is a pretty big deal, too.
So you must be ready. You must watch as you eat, as you talk, as you play. You must be alert. Today, Jesus will come in ways and at times you do not expect him.
"As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left.
“Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him."
The Gospel reading for the first day of Advent is a call to readiness. To hear it, I first of all have to un-hear it.
In the church of my youth, this passage was used as an evangelism tool. There was even an evangelistic movie that was popular at youth night events which depicted groups of people going about normal, daily activities. Suddenly one person from among the group would disappear. Several scenarios all had the same result: One person, always the "Christian" would disappear, while all the "heathen" youth would remain. The goal of the movie was to scare persons to faith in Jesus. If Jesus came to gather his people, no one wanted to be left behind.
More recently others have traded on those same ideas -- and gotten ridiculously wealthy doing so -- by marketing for the masses passages like this one.
[Intermission: During my college years I asked a youth leader why he felt the need to scare young people to Jesus. It seemed like faulty motivation to me, especially when I saw that a number of those who were "scared to Jesus" didn't "stay with Jesus." His reply was that it was better they get scared to Jesus than not to come to Jesus at all. I contended that being "scared to Jesus" was probably not "coming to Jesus" at all, and made authentic relationship with God even more difficult down the road for these young people. I still believe that.]
So first of all, do what you need to do in order to un-hear this passage. Read it without baggage from your past. Hear it without the whispers of some other Bible interpreter shaping your listening. Just listen to what it says without the interpretive baggage you're carrying with you.
The passage is about preparedness. It affirms the watchfulness and alertness that are inherent in getting ready.
There are different ways to get ready for some event. One is to quit what you are doing and simply wait. Some folks take this track. Through the years as the "second coming" of Jesus has been proclaimed and heeded, persons have quit their jobs and looked to the skies. In the days of my youth I remember the group who stopped working and climbed atop their houses to wait for Jesus, apparently wanting to meet him from the housetops before the rest of us on the ground could greet him.
To sit idle on a housetop or in a field or even at a church's altar is one way to wait and watch.
But another way to wait and get ready is to do what you do, to continue in whatever life is about for you, but to do so with a sense of mindfulness and watchfulness. The tip-off is that in "the days of Noah" persons were engaged in everyday activities, in eating and drinking, marrying and loving, working and tending responsibilities. It is possible to do those things without any sense of mindfulness or watchfulness, and so to miss the advent of Jesus.
The point, though, is that in these very mundane and ordinary life-events the presence of Jesus is experienced. It doesn't necessarily have to be the Bach concert, or the stunning Gothic architecture, or the beach at sunset, or the chorus of "Shout to the Lord."
I believe the Gospel really gets at watchfulness and awareness. They are the spiritual disciplines few people want to talk about. It is difficult to be present where you are to life as it unfolds in you and around you. It takes time and intention to cultivate the capacity to notice and be watchful, to live mindfully.
In fact, I believe that the obsession in some circles with the Second Coming of Christ is a shield to buffer us from the discipline of a daily, moment-by-moment attentiveness to the presence of Christ in the world. It is so much more glorious to envision some grand, heavenly scene accompanied by trumpet blasts and fanfare, angel masses and disappearing Christians. In reality, I think the coming of Jesus is much more subtle, much more ordinary.
Besides, by focusing solely on a glorious second appearance of Christ in our world, we act as if there has been this huge vacuum in our world between his birth and his future mysterious "second coming." While the Christian spiritual tradition insists that he has come and will come, it also does not overlook that he continues coming back into our world at every millisecond. He comes and shapes and creates all things momently. So his Second Coming -- in glory -- may be a pretty big deal, but his 459- gazillioneth coming into our every day is a pretty big deal, too.
So you must be ready. You must watch as you eat, as you talk, as you play. You must be alert. Today, Jesus will come in ways and at times you do not expect him.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Daily Advent Meditations
The Christian Church knows Sunday, November 28 as the First Sunday of Advent. I love this season of the year. Advent moves through mystery and hope toward the birth of Christ.
“Church-time” begins with the season of Advent. The first Sunday of Advent marks the beginning of a new Church year. It comes after the long stretch that the Church calls “Ordinary Time.”
In the Church calendar, the season of Lent leads into Passion/Palm Sunday, then into Holy Week, culminating on Resurrection Sunday . . . or what we celebrate as Easter. Then we continue our Easter celebration until the Feast of Pentecost, which has both Old Testament and New Testament antecedents for Christians.
Ordinary Time begins after Pentecost, which usually occurs in late May or early June. Through the long summer and fall, we are invited to notice God in the ordinary, in the mundane. There are no special observances to heighten our attention, no Lents, Easters or Pentecosts. Life is ordinary. In the rhythm of the Church calendar, the year ends after this lengthy stretch of Ordinary Time.
But then Advent comes, and suddenly the waiting and ordinariness seems more purposeful. Advent signals that now we wait with an end in mind. It is not simply a season of “getting ready for Christmas.” Advent signals that it’s time to get in touch with our hopes and our longings, that we begin to open ourselves to what we most need. We notice our inner stirrings, that for which we most deeply hunger. We wait, often in darkness, in order to see great light.
Advent begins four Sundays before Christmas. It is colored in purples and pinks, and characterized by mystery, waiting, anticipation, and hope. The word "advent" literally signifies a coming or an entrance. Thus, this is not only the coming of a new Church year, but it is more so the coming or advent of God's most complete self-revealing, which will come as Christ is embodied in human life.
Through Advent God tends to invite us toward more reflective and mindful living. It is an appropriate invitation given the pace at which many of us will live over the next month. To journey toward Christmas with intention and awareness could be the most precious gift we give to ourselves and others through Advent.
Each day of Advent I'll write a meditative thought in this space. The daily meditation will be based on the Scripture appointed for that day. That means I won't get to choose the text. I won't get to pick from among my favorites. I'll write about the text assigned by the Christian Church for that particular day.
Typically Advent includes a fair share of darkness and trouble before arriving at Christmas. The road to Bethlehem was not easy for Mary and Joseph. Neither is it for us.
Further, any time God is seriously embodied in the world there is resistance. Darkness most always precedes light. I haven't looked at all the Advent texts for the season, but I imagine they begin in darkness.
The thoughts here are not meant to replace your own devotional practice, but to enhance whatever routine you use for Advent. I hope what I write will "prime the pump," so to speak, and give you material for your own prayer.
We'll begin the journey Sunday.
“Church-time” begins with the season of Advent. The first Sunday of Advent marks the beginning of a new Church year. It comes after the long stretch that the Church calls “Ordinary Time.”
In the Church calendar, the season of Lent leads into Passion/Palm Sunday, then into Holy Week, culminating on Resurrection Sunday . . . or what we celebrate as Easter. Then we continue our Easter celebration until the Feast of Pentecost, which has both Old Testament and New Testament antecedents for Christians.
Ordinary Time begins after Pentecost, which usually occurs in late May or early June. Through the long summer and fall, we are invited to notice God in the ordinary, in the mundane. There are no special observances to heighten our attention, no Lents, Easters or Pentecosts. Life is ordinary. In the rhythm of the Church calendar, the year ends after this lengthy stretch of Ordinary Time.
But then Advent comes, and suddenly the waiting and ordinariness seems more purposeful. Advent signals that now we wait with an end in mind. It is not simply a season of “getting ready for Christmas.” Advent signals that it’s time to get in touch with our hopes and our longings, that we begin to open ourselves to what we most need. We notice our inner stirrings, that for which we most deeply hunger. We wait, often in darkness, in order to see great light.
Advent begins four Sundays before Christmas. It is colored in purples and pinks, and characterized by mystery, waiting, anticipation, and hope. The word "advent" literally signifies a coming or an entrance. Thus, this is not only the coming of a new Church year, but it is more so the coming or advent of God's most complete self-revealing, which will come as Christ is embodied in human life.
Through Advent God tends to invite us toward more reflective and mindful living. It is an appropriate invitation given the pace at which many of us will live over the next month. To journey toward Christmas with intention and awareness could be the most precious gift we give to ourselves and others through Advent.
Each day of Advent I'll write a meditative thought in this space. The daily meditation will be based on the Scripture appointed for that day. That means I won't get to choose the text. I won't get to pick from among my favorites. I'll write about the text assigned by the Christian Church for that particular day.
Typically Advent includes a fair share of darkness and trouble before arriving at Christmas. The road to Bethlehem was not easy for Mary and Joseph. Neither is it for us.
Further, any time God is seriously embodied in the world there is resistance. Darkness most always precedes light. I haven't looked at all the Advent texts for the season, but I imagine they begin in darkness.
The thoughts here are not meant to replace your own devotional practice, but to enhance whatever routine you use for Advent. I hope what I write will "prime the pump," so to speak, and give you material for your own prayer.
We'll begin the journey Sunday.
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