Isaiah 56:1-8
Thus says the LORD:
Maintain justice, and do what is right,
for soon my salvation will come,
and my deliverance be revealed.
Happy is the mortal who does this,
the one who holds it fast,
who keeps the sabbath, not profaning it,
and refrains from doing any evil.
Do not let the foreigner joined to the LORD say,
“The LORD will surely separate me from his people”;
and do not let the eunuch say,
“I am just a dry tree.”
For thus says the LORD:
To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths,
who choose the things that please me
and hold fast my covenant,
I will give, in my house and within my walls,
a monument and a name
better than sons and daughters;
I will give them an everlasting name
that shall not be cut off.
And the foreigners who join themselves to the LORD,
to minister to him, to love the name of the LORD,
and to be his servants,
all who keep the sabbath, and do not profane it,
and hold fast my covenant—
these I will bring to my holy mountain,
and make them joyful in my house of prayer;
their burnt offerings and their sacrifices
will be accepted on my altar;
for my house shall be called a house of prayer
for all peoples.
Thus says the Lord GOD,
who gathers the outcasts of Israel,
I will gather others to them
besides those already gathered.
• God’s salvation is always tied to justice. The readings from Isaiah that have guided us through Advent have consistently dealt with justice, that is, with doing what is right to others.
• In our contemporary, adversarial discourse, many see “justice” as a code-word associated with radical movements or certain political positions. In fact, it is a solidly biblical word, the cornerstone of much Old Testament spirituality. You could easily substitute the word “love” for justice . . . loving God and others with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. Justice is the tangible, outward expression of love wherever there is human need. Justice is the actional element of love.
• As you read and meditate on Isaiah 56, consider your own notions about justice. What is justice to you? What negative notions of justice live within you? What positive notions of justice live within you?
• Isaiah – and other Hebrew prophets – leave no doubt that we are all called to love others by living justly. In what tangible ways do you seek justice in your own world? What acts of justice are part of the normal run of your life? Notice what arises to the surface of your awareness, then bring it into your prayer.
Showing posts with label action. Show all posts
Showing posts with label action. Show all posts
Friday, December 20, 2019
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Third Sunday of Advent - December 16, 2018
What Should We Do?
Zephaniah 3:14-18
Philippians 4:4-7
Luke 3:10-18
"Sing, O daughter of Zion; shout, O Israel; be glad and rejoice with all your heart, O daughter of Jerusalem. For the Lord will remove his hand of judgment and disperse the armies of your enemy. And the Lord himself, the King of Israel, will live among you! At last your troubles will be over—you need fear no more.
On that day the announcement to Jerusalem will be, “Cheer up, don’t be afraid. For the Lord your God has arrived to live among you. He is a mighty Savior. He will give you victory. He will rejoice over you with great gladness; he will love you and not accuse you.” Is that a joyous choir I hear? No, it is the Lord himself exulting over you in happy song.
I have gathered your wounded and taken away your reproach." (Zeph. 3:14-18, The Living Bible)
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! (Phil. 4:4, NIV)
The Third Sunday of Advent is Gaudate Sunday, mostly gathered around themes of rejoicing. On Gaudate Sunday, from the Latin "to rejoice," we light a pink candle -- following the purple candles of the first two Advent weeks -- as a pause from the intensity of Advent.
Thus, the Old Testament reading from Zephaniah and the New Testament Epistle from Philippians emphasize rejoicing.
But then, almost as if on cue, here comes John the Baptist with his fiery message of repentance and axes ready to chop down out-of-touch trees. John's sermon challenges our joy. Oh well . . . so much for the break from intensity!
John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.”
“What should we do then?” the crowd asked.
John answered, “Anyone who has two coats should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.”
Even tax collectors came to be baptized. “Teacher,” they asked, “what should we do?”
“Don’t collect any more than you are required to,” he told them.
Then some soldiers asked him, “And what should we do?”
He replied, “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely — be content with your pay.” (Lk. 3:7-14)
John's basic message is repentance. We have made repentance into a scary word, thinking repent is something bad people must do. In reality, repentance refers to a moment-by-moment returning to the Source of our lives, coming back moment-by-moment to an awareness of God, taking on an increasingly expansive vision of God, self, others, and the world that is attuned with God's own vision. Repentance denotes both an interior shift in consciousness, as well as an exterior change in action. Lopsided repentance, in which we attend to one or the other, will not get us to transformation. We must continually return, giving attention to both the interior and the exterior.
The crowd asks a question. In the Gospels, "the crowd" most always represents the behavior or the questions that any person might ask. "The crowd" is the universal voice of Everyman and Everywoman.
"What shall we do, then?" they ask. Good question.
On one level, John responds, "Well, since you asked . . , do what you can. Do what is right. If you have two coats, give one to someone who don't have a coat. If you have extra food, give some to a person who's hungry. Don't cheat. Don't bully. Don't use your position to get ahead." To each group of inquires, John gives directed counsel on what to do. Most of it sounds simple and straightforward. Plain-talk. His answers are social in nature (share what you have, don't extort, don't bully, etc.), but he does not critique the unjust systems which have contributed to these societal ills. He gives advice on a personal, relational level.
At this level, it's almost as if John's advice is, "Give what you can. I'm not asking for a huge sacrifice, the old-fashioned give-till-it-hurts. Just do what you can, what is right and just. You don't have to give until you have nothing left for yourself. Just give out of your abundance. You have enough, someone else has not-enough. So share."
This first level may be sufficient for you today. If it suffices for you, then you can stop reading here.
But I think the passage offers us another level of spiritual insight and challenge which bites us just a bit more.
Spiritual teachers interested in life-change know that life always flows from the inside to the outside. Our doing always emerges from our being. So initially, spiritual teachers are not nearly as concerned with our actions as with our inner landscape . . . our attitudes, thoughts, motivations, patterns of perception and action. Most often, these teachers begin on the inside, attempting to shape us inwardly, knowing that inner change will bring about outer change.
Transformed people (on the inside) transform the world (on the outside).
However, there is another way to get at this, which seems to be the way John chooses. John begins on the outside, with action. He gives the crowd something to do that at the same time seems quite simple, yet nearly impossible. That is, he suggests some action that people will resist, then invites reflection on why they cannot accomplish the outer action. I know, it sounds convoluted. Let me demonstrate . . .
John said, "Anyone who has two coats should share with the one who has none."
I don't have two coats. I have many more than two coats. It should be simple enough for me to share with someone who has none. But then there are voices within me that come up with all kinds of objections, all sorts of rationalizations.
"I have a work coat and a dress coat. I CAN'T get rid of those. I have a jacket for mild, breezy weather and a coat that's a little heavier for temperatures just above freezing and another coat that's more of a parka for the cold-cold. I have another coat, but my mother gave it to me and it has sentimental value . . . and still another coat that doesn't fit me, but maybe it will one day. And if I do give one away, which do I give? Which should I keep? And to whom should I give it? How do I know they will take care of it?"
Do you see what I mean? John's instruction sounds easy. Maybe it should be easy. But it's not. Trying to take some action in the outer world begins to bring up things within me that are skewed, things that are off-center and out of balance. Any attempt to take a new course of action is foreign to me. I have behavior patterns already rutted into my thinking.
Go ahead and run through the entire list John mentions. Who among us does not make excuses, come up with justifications, find ourselves rationalizing? We have dozens of good reasons to explain why we cannot do what John asks of us.
John's words invite us to notice our hesitation . . . to pay attention to the inner resistance that keeps us from acting justly . . . to listen to the internal commentaries which roll around in our minds, almost beneath consciousness . . . to observe the road-blocks within us that keep us from doing our faith . . . to address the inner obstacles we stumble over.
Then, John believes, we will see change in both our inner landscape and in the way we live in the world. This is the repentance, the moral change, John preaches and advocates.
For Reflection:
For reflection today, I offer you this meditation by John Shea, which is based on our John the Baptist text. It is long, but well worth your attention.
The crowds asked him, “What should we do?”
Glad you asked.
Pick a value. It must be a transcendent value, one that is grounded in God. Not one of those contemporary whims that pass as values, like “keeping in touch.”
I mean a real value, like compassion or forgiveness or reconciliation or peace or justice. Something that has some bite in it and will be around long after you’re gone. Something moths and rust cannot consume and thieves cannot break in and steal. For example, let’s take compassion.
Now take ten minutes a day in the morning and meditate on it. Clear your mind of other thoughts and distractions. If they continue to intrude, just notice them and let them go. Return to compassion.
It is good to have a phrase to repeat silently and mindfully. Some Buddhists think equality is the path to compassion, and they suggest a phrase like, “Everyone wants to be happy and doesn’t want to suffer.” As you slowly and silently repeat this phrase that makes you equal with everyone else, pictures of people you know may enter your mind. Simply use their name in the next phrase, “Joan wants to be happy and doesn’t want to suffer . . . Frank wants to be happy and doesn’t want to suffer,” and every so often say, “I want to be happy and don’t want to suffer.” Now you are in the human mess with everyone else.
When you have done this for about ten minutes, get on with the day. Don’t evaluate how the meditation is going. Dismiss all questions like “Did I do it right? Why am I doing this? Did I waste my time?” Just continue to do it.
Also you should read some stuff on compassion. Meditation is not enough. Over the long haul it will heighten your awareness of opportunities for compassionate action. But, in itself, it won’t make you much smarter about compassion. You need to read and ponder, to reflect on what you are reading. . . .
Now for the really important part. At the end of the day, take some time to review the day in the light of your spiritually grounded value of compassion. No doubt you will notice some things that could have been done differently if you had remembered your value of compassion.
Well, get on the phone or email and redo that situation. Don’t let embarrassment stop you. Just do it. You may be awkward at first, but you’ll get used to it.
This is repenting. Repentance is not what bad people have to do. It is what people who live out of transcendent values find necessary. Most of us don’t get it right the first time. We only notice we could have done it differently “over the shoulder.” But when we see a more compassionate way, we have to act on it. This is how we get better. A little.
Getting better means seeing a compassionate way while a situation is actually unfolding. Most likely the first time this happens you will have to pause to figure out what is going on. In the pause a response will come to you. Yes, a response will come to you. It will not be a carefully worked out strategy with all the pluses and minuses lined up in columns for you to evaluate. You will suddenly see it. Like it was there all along but you didn’t notice it. When it comes to you like that, this is the Holy Spirit. Say, “Thank you.”
And act on what you see. The courage to act on what you see will also come from the Holy Spirit. Say, “Thank you.”
Although you have compassion in your heart and you saw what to do and you did it, it may not have worked out very well. That’s not the Holy Spirit. That’s you. Redo it. Redoing and pausing / pausing and redoing are partners. Where there is one, you’ll find the other.
After a while, you’ll think, “I’m getting pretty damn good at this. I am probably the most compassionate person in this whole organization (family, neighborhood, etc.).” That’s your ego wanting to separate you from other people in order to feel superior. Say, “No thank you.”
Instead, humbly recommit yourself to your spiritual practice on compassion, your spiritual reading on compassion, and your experiments in bring compassion into all you do. That’s fire, the steady burning that does not burn out. Of course, by now you know where this perseverance comes from, so say, “Thank you.”
One last thing. This process is never over. Repenting is forever. Get used to it.
[John Shea, The Relentless Widow (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2006), 12-14.]
Zephaniah 3:14-18
Philippians 4:4-7
Luke 3:10-18
"Sing, O daughter of Zion; shout, O Israel; be glad and rejoice with all your heart, O daughter of Jerusalem. For the Lord will remove his hand of judgment and disperse the armies of your enemy. And the Lord himself, the King of Israel, will live among you! At last your troubles will be over—you need fear no more.
On that day the announcement to Jerusalem will be, “Cheer up, don’t be afraid. For the Lord your God has arrived to live among you. He is a mighty Savior. He will give you victory. He will rejoice over you with great gladness; he will love you and not accuse you.” Is that a joyous choir I hear? No, it is the Lord himself exulting over you in happy song.
I have gathered your wounded and taken away your reproach." (Zeph. 3:14-18, The Living Bible)
Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! (Phil. 4:4, NIV)
The Third Sunday of Advent is Gaudate Sunday, mostly gathered around themes of rejoicing. On Gaudate Sunday, from the Latin "to rejoice," we light a pink candle -- following the purple candles of the first two Advent weeks -- as a pause from the intensity of Advent.
Thus, the Old Testament reading from Zephaniah and the New Testament Epistle from Philippians emphasize rejoicing.
But then, almost as if on cue, here comes John the Baptist with his fiery message of repentance and axes ready to chop down out-of-touch trees. John's sermon challenges our joy. Oh well . . . so much for the break from intensity!
John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.”
“What should we do then?” the crowd asked.
John answered, “Anyone who has two coats should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.”
Even tax collectors came to be baptized. “Teacher,” they asked, “what should we do?”
“Don’t collect any more than you are required to,” he told them.
Then some soldiers asked him, “And what should we do?”
He replied, “Don’t extort money and don’t accuse people falsely — be content with your pay.” (Lk. 3:7-14)
John's basic message is repentance. We have made repentance into a scary word, thinking repent is something bad people must do. In reality, repentance refers to a moment-by-moment returning to the Source of our lives, coming back moment-by-moment to an awareness of God, taking on an increasingly expansive vision of God, self, others, and the world that is attuned with God's own vision. Repentance denotes both an interior shift in consciousness, as well as an exterior change in action. Lopsided repentance, in which we attend to one or the other, will not get us to transformation. We must continually return, giving attention to both the interior and the exterior.
The crowd asks a question. In the Gospels, "the crowd" most always represents the behavior or the questions that any person might ask. "The crowd" is the universal voice of Everyman and Everywoman.
"What shall we do, then?" they ask. Good question.
On one level, John responds, "Well, since you asked . . , do what you can. Do what is right. If you have two coats, give one to someone who don't have a coat. If you have extra food, give some to a person who's hungry. Don't cheat. Don't bully. Don't use your position to get ahead." To each group of inquires, John gives directed counsel on what to do. Most of it sounds simple and straightforward. Plain-talk. His answers are social in nature (share what you have, don't extort, don't bully, etc.), but he does not critique the unjust systems which have contributed to these societal ills. He gives advice on a personal, relational level.
At this level, it's almost as if John's advice is, "Give what you can. I'm not asking for a huge sacrifice, the old-fashioned give-till-it-hurts. Just do what you can, what is right and just. You don't have to give until you have nothing left for yourself. Just give out of your abundance. You have enough, someone else has not-enough. So share."
This first level may be sufficient for you today. If it suffices for you, then you can stop reading here.
But I think the passage offers us another level of spiritual insight and challenge which bites us just a bit more.
Spiritual teachers interested in life-change know that life always flows from the inside to the outside. Our doing always emerges from our being. So initially, spiritual teachers are not nearly as concerned with our actions as with our inner landscape . . . our attitudes, thoughts, motivations, patterns of perception and action. Most often, these teachers begin on the inside, attempting to shape us inwardly, knowing that inner change will bring about outer change.
Transformed people (on the inside) transform the world (on the outside).
However, there is another way to get at this, which seems to be the way John chooses. John begins on the outside, with action. He gives the crowd something to do that at the same time seems quite simple, yet nearly impossible. That is, he suggests some action that people will resist, then invites reflection on why they cannot accomplish the outer action. I know, it sounds convoluted. Let me demonstrate . . .
John said, "Anyone who has two coats should share with the one who has none."
I don't have two coats. I have many more than two coats. It should be simple enough for me to share with someone who has none. But then there are voices within me that come up with all kinds of objections, all sorts of rationalizations.
"I have a work coat and a dress coat. I CAN'T get rid of those. I have a jacket for mild, breezy weather and a coat that's a little heavier for temperatures just above freezing and another coat that's more of a parka for the cold-cold. I have another coat, but my mother gave it to me and it has sentimental value . . . and still another coat that doesn't fit me, but maybe it will one day. And if I do give one away, which do I give? Which should I keep? And to whom should I give it? How do I know they will take care of it?"
Do you see what I mean? John's instruction sounds easy. Maybe it should be easy. But it's not. Trying to take some action in the outer world begins to bring up things within me that are skewed, things that are off-center and out of balance. Any attempt to take a new course of action is foreign to me. I have behavior patterns already rutted into my thinking.
Go ahead and run through the entire list John mentions. Who among us does not make excuses, come up with justifications, find ourselves rationalizing? We have dozens of good reasons to explain why we cannot do what John asks of us.
John's words invite us to notice our hesitation . . . to pay attention to the inner resistance that keeps us from acting justly . . . to listen to the internal commentaries which roll around in our minds, almost beneath consciousness . . . to observe the road-blocks within us that keep us from doing our faith . . . to address the inner obstacles we stumble over.
Then, John believes, we will see change in both our inner landscape and in the way we live in the world. This is the repentance, the moral change, John preaches and advocates.
For Reflection:
For reflection today, I offer you this meditation by John Shea, which is based on our John the Baptist text. It is long, but well worth your attention.
The crowds asked him, “What should we do?”
Glad you asked.
Pick a value. It must be a transcendent value, one that is grounded in God. Not one of those contemporary whims that pass as values, like “keeping in touch.”
I mean a real value, like compassion or forgiveness or reconciliation or peace or justice. Something that has some bite in it and will be around long after you’re gone. Something moths and rust cannot consume and thieves cannot break in and steal. For example, let’s take compassion.
Now take ten minutes a day in the morning and meditate on it. Clear your mind of other thoughts and distractions. If they continue to intrude, just notice them and let them go. Return to compassion.
It is good to have a phrase to repeat silently and mindfully. Some Buddhists think equality is the path to compassion, and they suggest a phrase like, “Everyone wants to be happy and doesn’t want to suffer.” As you slowly and silently repeat this phrase that makes you equal with everyone else, pictures of people you know may enter your mind. Simply use their name in the next phrase, “Joan wants to be happy and doesn’t want to suffer . . . Frank wants to be happy and doesn’t want to suffer,” and every so often say, “I want to be happy and don’t want to suffer.” Now you are in the human mess with everyone else.
When you have done this for about ten minutes, get on with the day. Don’t evaluate how the meditation is going. Dismiss all questions like “Did I do it right? Why am I doing this? Did I waste my time?” Just continue to do it.
Also you should read some stuff on compassion. Meditation is not enough. Over the long haul it will heighten your awareness of opportunities for compassionate action. But, in itself, it won’t make you much smarter about compassion. You need to read and ponder, to reflect on what you are reading. . . .
Now for the really important part. At the end of the day, take some time to review the day in the light of your spiritually grounded value of compassion. No doubt you will notice some things that could have been done differently if you had remembered your value of compassion.
Well, get on the phone or email and redo that situation. Don’t let embarrassment stop you. Just do it. You may be awkward at first, but you’ll get used to it.
This is repenting. Repentance is not what bad people have to do. It is what people who live out of transcendent values find necessary. Most of us don’t get it right the first time. We only notice we could have done it differently “over the shoulder.” But when we see a more compassionate way, we have to act on it. This is how we get better. A little.
Getting better means seeing a compassionate way while a situation is actually unfolding. Most likely the first time this happens you will have to pause to figure out what is going on. In the pause a response will come to you. Yes, a response will come to you. It will not be a carefully worked out strategy with all the pluses and minuses lined up in columns for you to evaluate. You will suddenly see it. Like it was there all along but you didn’t notice it. When it comes to you like that, this is the Holy Spirit. Say, “Thank you.”
And act on what you see. The courage to act on what you see will also come from the Holy Spirit. Say, “Thank you.”
Although you have compassion in your heart and you saw what to do and you did it, it may not have worked out very well. That’s not the Holy Spirit. That’s you. Redo it. Redoing and pausing / pausing and redoing are partners. Where there is one, you’ll find the other.
After a while, you’ll think, “I’m getting pretty damn good at this. I am probably the most compassionate person in this whole organization (family, neighborhood, etc.).” That’s your ego wanting to separate you from other people in order to feel superior. Say, “No thank you.”
Instead, humbly recommit yourself to your spiritual practice on compassion, your spiritual reading on compassion, and your experiments in bring compassion into all you do. That’s fire, the steady burning that does not burn out. Of course, by now you know where this perseverance comes from, so say, “Thank you.”
One last thing. This process is never over. Repenting is forever. Get used to it.
[John Shea, The Relentless Widow (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2006), 12-14.]
Monday, December 10, 2018
Second Monday of Advent - December 10, 2018
Participating in Kindness and Compassion
Isaiah 35:1-10
Luke 5:17-26
Again today, a common theme bridges the Old Testament lesson to the Gospel.
Isaiah 35 anticipates a time when God will cause the dry land to be fruitful, when the feeble will be strong, when the blind will see, when the deaf will hear, and when streams will gush through the desert.
The Gospel reading in Luke 5 points us to a day when the prophecy is fulfilled. A paralyzed man is carried to Jesus by friends who creatively drop him on his mat into the presence of Jesus through a hole in the roof. The crowds were large and the four persons carrying the mat could not navigate the throngs; yet, they found a way to act with kindness and compassion on behalf of the lame man.
While the story moves on toward a larger point of contention -- the religious leaders who object to Jesus healing the man by means of forgiveness -- we dare not miss the obvious. Not only is the kingdom of God (life which is lived with God at the Center) present in Jesus, but there are also those who come alongside Jesus, necessary participants in the compassionate, kind, and healing work Jesus is about. Those who carry the man on the mat join in the saving work of Jesus, whether they know it or not.
The hope of Advent is not that Jesus will come in order to free us to sit and watch him set the world aright.
The hope of Advent is you and I actively participating in God's work in the world through common acts of mercy, compassion, kindness, and self-giving.
Not only is Jesus mystically present in the world. He is also present in the world through you and me. Together, we join him as a sign of the kingdom's presence.
For Reflection:
1. Spend time in the Gospel story, Luke 5:17-26, among the different characters. For example, meditate on the story as the person on the mat . . . then as the friends who carry the mat . . . then as the religious people who object to Jesus' healing and forgiving . . . even as Jesus. Be careful not to analyze the story, but rather allow yourself to feel and sense along with the different persons in the narrative.
2. Make a pledge to some small acts of mercy and kindness this Advent as a way of joining Jesus in the kingdom's coming.
Isaiah 35:1-10
Luke 5:17-26
Again today, a common theme bridges the Old Testament lesson to the Gospel.
Isaiah 35 anticipates a time when God will cause the dry land to be fruitful, when the feeble will be strong, when the blind will see, when the deaf will hear, and when streams will gush through the desert.
The Gospel reading in Luke 5 points us to a day when the prophecy is fulfilled. A paralyzed man is carried to Jesus by friends who creatively drop him on his mat into the presence of Jesus through a hole in the roof. The crowds were large and the four persons carrying the mat could not navigate the throngs; yet, they found a way to act with kindness and compassion on behalf of the lame man.
While the story moves on toward a larger point of contention -- the religious leaders who object to Jesus healing the man by means of forgiveness -- we dare not miss the obvious. Not only is the kingdom of God (life which is lived with God at the Center) present in Jesus, but there are also those who come alongside Jesus, necessary participants in the compassionate, kind, and healing work Jesus is about. Those who carry the man on the mat join in the saving work of Jesus, whether they know it or not.
The hope of Advent is not that Jesus will come in order to free us to sit and watch him set the world aright.
The hope of Advent is you and I actively participating in God's work in the world through common acts of mercy, compassion, kindness, and self-giving.
Not only is Jesus mystically present in the world. He is also present in the world through you and me. Together, we join him as a sign of the kingdom's presence.
For Reflection:
1. Spend time in the Gospel story, Luke 5:17-26, among the different characters. For example, meditate on the story as the person on the mat . . . then as the friends who carry the mat . . . then as the religious people who object to Jesus' healing and forgiving . . . even as Jesus. Be careful not to analyze the story, but rather allow yourself to feel and sense along with the different persons in the narrative.
2. Make a pledge to some small acts of mercy and kindness this Advent as a way of joining Jesus in the kingdom's coming.
Friday, December 16, 2011
The Third Friday of Advent -- December 16, 2011
John 5:33 - 36
“You have sent to John and he has testified to the truth. Not that I accept human testimony; but I mention it that you may be saved. John was a lamp that burned and gave light, and you chose for a time to enjoy his light.
“I have testimony weightier than that of John. For the works that the Father has given me to finish—the very works that I am doing—testify that the Father has sent me."
"Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words."
I first saw those words almost two decades ago, finding them attributed to St. Francis of Assisi. The words seemed to fit Francis, he who was a Troubadour for the Lord, an engaging, charismatic doer of the Gospel. Francis ordered his life around the Sermon on the Mount. He was not known as a speaker or a teacher or a writer, but rather as one who embodied the Gospel of Jesus Christ. His influence was the fruit of a life that had been transformed by God from the inside-out.
In truth, the saying is apocryphal. As far as I can tell, you won't find it among the relatively meager collections of Francis' writings. Again, he was first of all a doer, not a writer.
But the truth of the saying is not diminished by its unknown origins. It says to us that "preaching" is not what we ordinarily think of when we hear the word. It is only secondarily a matter of speech. Preaching is mostly our living, the quality of our lives, the way the Gospel is enfleshed in our actions, the life of Jesus within each of us.
As one of my mentors says, we are each a "living experience" of Christ's life in the world.
So in the text for today, Jesus pointed out that John testified about the identity of Christ, the long-expected one. John's testimony was a "bright and shining light" that lit the world for many people. John testified about Jesus with his words.
Jesus' testimony, though, was weightier than John's (v. 36). What was Jesus' testimony? It was what he did . . . his actions, works, deeds . . . his healing, touching, engaging.
There was a holy witness, a testimony in how Jesus engaged life, how he valued people, how he treated those underneath the weight of society. Jesus testified about God by his very stance toward life.
It causes me to ponder about the time I've spent in my life in the formal act of "preaching", mostly using rhetoric from pulpits within the confines of church buildings . . . when perhaps I should have been building a pulpit in the world.
“You have sent to John and he has testified to the truth. Not that I accept human testimony; but I mention it that you may be saved. John was a lamp that burned and gave light, and you chose for a time to enjoy his light.
“I have testimony weightier than that of John. For the works that the Father has given me to finish—the very works that I am doing—testify that the Father has sent me."
"Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary, use words."
I first saw those words almost two decades ago, finding them attributed to St. Francis of Assisi. The words seemed to fit Francis, he who was a Troubadour for the Lord, an engaging, charismatic doer of the Gospel. Francis ordered his life around the Sermon on the Mount. He was not known as a speaker or a teacher or a writer, but rather as one who embodied the Gospel of Jesus Christ. His influence was the fruit of a life that had been transformed by God from the inside-out.
In truth, the saying is apocryphal. As far as I can tell, you won't find it among the relatively meager collections of Francis' writings. Again, he was first of all a doer, not a writer.
But the truth of the saying is not diminished by its unknown origins. It says to us that "preaching" is not what we ordinarily think of when we hear the word. It is only secondarily a matter of speech. Preaching is mostly our living, the quality of our lives, the way the Gospel is enfleshed in our actions, the life of Jesus within each of us.
As one of my mentors says, we are each a "living experience" of Christ's life in the world.
So in the text for today, Jesus pointed out that John testified about the identity of Christ, the long-expected one. John's testimony was a "bright and shining light" that lit the world for many people. John testified about Jesus with his words.
Jesus' testimony, though, was weightier than John's (v. 36). What was Jesus' testimony? It was what he did . . . his actions, works, deeds . . . his healing, touching, engaging.
There was a holy witness, a testimony in how Jesus engaged life, how he valued people, how he treated those underneath the weight of society. Jesus testified about God by his very stance toward life.
It causes me to ponder about the time I've spent in my life in the formal act of "preaching", mostly using rhetoric from pulpits within the confines of church buildings . . . when perhaps I should have been building a pulpit in the world.
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