Sadness Amidst Celebration
Matthew 17:10-13
This strange Advent text comes on the heels of the Transfiguration, where Peter, James, and John see Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah on the mountain. When Peter wants to memorialize the moment with three monuments, the heavenly voice makes sure these three figures are not given equal standing: "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Listen to him!"
The text then turns to a discussion of Elijah and his role in the coming of the Messiah.
It seems like a glorious moment . . . Moses and Elijah conversing with Jesus . . . the voice of God declaring Jesus as the Beloved . . . the desire to celebrate and remember by erecting commemorative booths.
Then Jesus drops a bomb . . . his own suffering and death (v. 12). Indeed, in the Gospels, the story of the Transfiguration marks a turning point in the narrative. From this moment onward, Jesus' face is turned toward Jerusalem and the cross. His journey takes on a new urgency, a resoluteness.
We feel something of the shock, the bummed feeling of skipping merrily through Advent when a reading like this is dropped among us, reminding us that the end of Jesus' short life will be a cruel death. We don't want to hear this message as we sing "Joy to the World" and "Silent Night," as we hang lights and put out stockings, as we carefully place the creche which depicts the vulnerable baby, Jesus with Mary, Joseph, and barnyard animals.
While we may not want to hear this news about Jesus, I imagine it resonates with each of us. Every one of us will experience some empty chair around the Christmas table . . . whether the grief is fresh or lingers from decades ago. Persons we love will not be there.
As a pastor, I learned decades ago that more people die in December than any other month. Funeral home directors know these dynamics well, and staff for them. Frequently I would be away with my family for Christmas, only to receive a phone call that a beloved church member had died. I would make the trip back to Bonham or Houston to be with the family. It was almost routine. Sadness seemed to go hand in hand with celebration.
Pancreatic cancer took my own father just a couple of days before Christmas 20 years ago. I remember someone in the family -- I don't remember who -- saying, as we all gathered at mom's house shortly after hearing the news, "What are we going to do about Christmas this year?" Exactly!
Even now, Christmas is the most difficult time of year for my mother. I suspect that holds true for many of us.
Jesus is honest about being fully human. Birth, life, and death are somehow intertwined. We are not given the choice of choosing only those aspects of life that are easy or pleasant. Only when we allow ourselves to be where we truly are -- even in our sadness and grief -- can we move onward with him. Loss and grief are part of life, even during Advent.
It's okay to be where you are.
For Reflection:
Spend a few moments today thinking about those persons who will not be with you for Christmas. Some of them have passed to the next life. From others you are separated by many miles.
In your own quiet space, simply whisper the name of each person who comes to mind. If you'd like, cup your hands in front of you, as if you were holding them out to God as you quietly say their names.
Saturday, December 15, 2018
Friday, December 14, 2018
Second Friday of Advent - December 14, 2018
Growing Up
Isaiah 48:17-19
Matthew 11:16-19
In early childhood, we are faced with the developmental task of moving from self-interest and an egocentric worldview in which everything and every person resolves our self, to a more expansive worldview in which we are invited to play with others, respect others, and cooperate with others in order to achieve shared goals. In short, we are invited into a worldview in which we do not insist on getting our own way; rather, we find ourselves in a complex web of relationships in which we must cooperate and often give up our own preferences for the greater good. As infants accustomed to the total attention of others, we grow into early childhood which invites us to mature from crying out for attention, toward a sense of shared living, cooperation, and compassion toward others.
It is never an easy developmental transition. If you have ever engaged in a conversation with an 8-year old who already knows everything, and will not budge to your years of wisdom, you know what I mean. We have a hard time letting go of our egocentric vision in which we know what is best, have all the answers, and expect others to orbit around us. Sadly, some adults have never emerged from this self-referenced developmental stage. (You know some adults who are ALWAYS right, don't you?? Who never fail to have a story that tops yours?? Who insist on having the last word??)
In order to do life well, in a manner that is healthy for self and life-giving for others, we must cultivate -- among other things -- a teachable spirit. Contemplative spirituality usually calls this "openness" and "receptivity" In our spiritual practice, we return regularly to that which helps cultivate an open and receptive spirit within us. We know there is much we do not yet know, since each of us exists in a state of becoming. We are becoming the person and people God created us to be.
Today's readings touch on this teachable spirit. In Isaiah, God says,
"I am the Lord your God,
who teaches you what is best for you,
who directs you in the way you should go." (Isa. 48:17)
In other words, "Do you trust God to teach you what is best for you?"
"Do you trust God to lead you in the way you should go?"
"Can you put aside your own egocentric concerns and begin to see life though a wider lens?"
In Matthew 11, Jesus compares the masses of people to children who are stuck in early-stage egocentrism. These adults, acting like petulant 6 year olds who do not get their way, are akin to spoiled children who say, "We played a song for you, but you didn't dance the way we wanted you to dance" . . . "we sang a song for you, but you didn't tell us how much you liked it" . . . "we performed for you, but you weren't paying attention to us!"
A healthy spirituality that gives life to the world is rooted in humility, and it is teachable -- open and receptive It is not self-centered, and is not stuck in its own ideas. It is growing, becoming, always open to the next place God is taking it.
In the 4th and 5th centuries, pilgrims went to the deserts of Egypt and the Near East, seeking the wisdom of the Desert Mothers and Fathers. Tradition says that seekers would arrive at the cave or cell of a Desert Father or Desert Mother and simply say, "Abba (or Amma), give me a word." The Fathers and Mothers would then offer a saying or a teaching story to the seeker. Whatever the Abba or Amma spoke, the seeker humbly received as a word from God, then went off to work that word into their lives, sometimes over the course of many years.
Another story tells about a seeker who came to see the Persian mystic, Rumi. The seeker traveled a long distance, and upon arrival bowed before Rumi and begged, "Master, will you teach me?" After a long silence, Rumi answered, "That all depends. Are you ready to learn from me?"
For Reflection:
Notice the scripture, story, or idea that most stirs your heart today. Bring that stirring into your prayer. Pray with it. Journal with it. Allow God to speak to you through it.
Isaiah 48:17-19
Matthew 11:16-19
In early childhood, we are faced with the developmental task of moving from self-interest and an egocentric worldview in which everything and every person resolves our self, to a more expansive worldview in which we are invited to play with others, respect others, and cooperate with others in order to achieve shared goals. In short, we are invited into a worldview in which we do not insist on getting our own way; rather, we find ourselves in a complex web of relationships in which we must cooperate and often give up our own preferences for the greater good. As infants accustomed to the total attention of others, we grow into early childhood which invites us to mature from crying out for attention, toward a sense of shared living, cooperation, and compassion toward others.
It is never an easy developmental transition. If you have ever engaged in a conversation with an 8-year old who already knows everything, and will not budge to your years of wisdom, you know what I mean. We have a hard time letting go of our egocentric vision in which we know what is best, have all the answers, and expect others to orbit around us. Sadly, some adults have never emerged from this self-referenced developmental stage. (You know some adults who are ALWAYS right, don't you?? Who never fail to have a story that tops yours?? Who insist on having the last word??)
In order to do life well, in a manner that is healthy for self and life-giving for others, we must cultivate -- among other things -- a teachable spirit. Contemplative spirituality usually calls this "openness" and "receptivity" In our spiritual practice, we return regularly to that which helps cultivate an open and receptive spirit within us. We know there is much we do not yet know, since each of us exists in a state of becoming. We are becoming the person and people God created us to be.
Today's readings touch on this teachable spirit. In Isaiah, God says,
"I am the Lord your God,
who teaches you what is best for you,
who directs you in the way you should go." (Isa. 48:17)
In other words, "Do you trust God to teach you what is best for you?"
"Do you trust God to lead you in the way you should go?"
"Can you put aside your own egocentric concerns and begin to see life though a wider lens?"
In Matthew 11, Jesus compares the masses of people to children who are stuck in early-stage egocentrism. These adults, acting like petulant 6 year olds who do not get their way, are akin to spoiled children who say, "We played a song for you, but you didn't dance the way we wanted you to dance" . . . "we sang a song for you, but you didn't tell us how much you liked it" . . . "we performed for you, but you weren't paying attention to us!"
A healthy spirituality that gives life to the world is rooted in humility, and it is teachable -- open and receptive It is not self-centered, and is not stuck in its own ideas. It is growing, becoming, always open to the next place God is taking it.
In the 4th and 5th centuries, pilgrims went to the deserts of Egypt and the Near East, seeking the wisdom of the Desert Mothers and Fathers. Tradition says that seekers would arrive at the cave or cell of a Desert Father or Desert Mother and simply say, "Abba (or Amma), give me a word." The Fathers and Mothers would then offer a saying or a teaching story to the seeker. Whatever the Abba or Amma spoke, the seeker humbly received as a word from God, then went off to work that word into their lives, sometimes over the course of many years.
Another story tells about a seeker who came to see the Persian mystic, Rumi. The seeker traveled a long distance, and upon arrival bowed before Rumi and begged, "Master, will you teach me?" After a long silence, Rumi answered, "That all depends. Are you ready to learn from me?"
For Reflection:
Notice the scripture, story, or idea that most stirs your heart today. Bring that stirring into your prayer. Pray with it. Journal with it. Allow God to speak to you through it.
Thursday, December 13, 2018
Second Thursday of Advent - December 13, 2018
Violence and the Kingdom of God
Isaiah 41:13-20
Matthew 11:11-15
In the Gospel text today, Jesus introduces John the Baptist. We, the Gospel readers, have met John already. Now Jesus speaks to who he is.
John played a critical role in the unfolding project of God, but John's understanding of Jesus was incomplete. He imagined God's Messiah would come with fire, as an ax ready to chop down trees.
So Jesus claims that those who truly give themselves to a God-oriented life (kingdom of God) as modeled by Jesus, would have greater understanding and do more to shape the world than John . . . a wild and extreme claim.
Then, in a verse which is subject to a variety of interpretations, Jesus points out that people have been violently trying to live the kingdom-of-God-life (God-centered life) since the time of John. Perhaps the violence itself was influenced by John's fiery rhetoric, his ax-chopping-down-the-trees metaphors.
From the time of John the Baptist until now, violent people have been trying to take over the kingdom of heaven by force. (Matt. 11:12, CEV)
For a long time now people have tried to force themselves into God's Kingdom. (Matt 11:12, The Message)
From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence, and violent people have been raiding it. (Matt. 11:12, NIV)
In his life's work and in his life's words, Jesus is clear that violence has no place in the kingdom of God. The God-centered life is not forced upon anyone and is not achieved by violence done to persons. It is not accomplished by powerfully forcing on people a set of beliefs or standards. There is no coercion in the kingdom of God.
And yet Christians all through the centuries continue to get this wrong. When Emperors Constantine and Licinius in 313 issued the Edict of Milan, they ushered in an age when the interests of the Church and the state were intricately woven together. With Christianity the favored religion, citizens of the empire were expected to be baptized, sometimes by force. The marriage of the Church to the state created an unhealthy union propelled by coercion.
Our own times are no stranger to that kind of compulsion. A friend -- and "research assistant" -- shared a blog with me Monday, the 50th anniversary of Thomas Merton's death, which remembered Merton warning that the marriage of religious fundamentalism and American nationalism would produce "the greatest orgy of idolatry the world has ever seen." (http://www.matthewfox.org/blog/on-the-50th-anniversary-of-thomas-mertons-death#)
Advent reminds us that God's ways are radically different from the ways of the world (and even the Church). The kingdom of God among us does not come in force and violence, but as a vulnerable child born to parents who were outside society's power structure.
For Reflection:
Have you ever used violence, excessive power or force, or compulsion to accomplish what you thought were noble ends?
Reflect on your experience in light of this Advent text.
Isaiah 41:13-20
Matthew 11:11-15
In the Gospel text today, Jesus introduces John the Baptist. We, the Gospel readers, have met John already. Now Jesus speaks to who he is.
John played a critical role in the unfolding project of God, but John's understanding of Jesus was incomplete. He imagined God's Messiah would come with fire, as an ax ready to chop down trees.
So Jesus claims that those who truly give themselves to a God-oriented life (kingdom of God) as modeled by Jesus, would have greater understanding and do more to shape the world than John . . . a wild and extreme claim.
Then, in a verse which is subject to a variety of interpretations, Jesus points out that people have been violently trying to live the kingdom-of-God-life (God-centered life) since the time of John. Perhaps the violence itself was influenced by John's fiery rhetoric, his ax-chopping-down-the-trees metaphors.
From the time of John the Baptist until now, violent people have been trying to take over the kingdom of heaven by force. (Matt. 11:12, CEV)
For a long time now people have tried to force themselves into God's Kingdom. (Matt 11:12, The Message)
From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence, and violent people have been raiding it. (Matt. 11:12, NIV)
In his life's work and in his life's words, Jesus is clear that violence has no place in the kingdom of God. The God-centered life is not forced upon anyone and is not achieved by violence done to persons. It is not accomplished by powerfully forcing on people a set of beliefs or standards. There is no coercion in the kingdom of God.
And yet Christians all through the centuries continue to get this wrong. When Emperors Constantine and Licinius in 313 issued the Edict of Milan, they ushered in an age when the interests of the Church and the state were intricately woven together. With Christianity the favored religion, citizens of the empire were expected to be baptized, sometimes by force. The marriage of the Church to the state created an unhealthy union propelled by coercion.
Our own times are no stranger to that kind of compulsion. A friend -- and "research assistant" -- shared a blog with me Monday, the 50th anniversary of Thomas Merton's death, which remembered Merton warning that the marriage of religious fundamentalism and American nationalism would produce "the greatest orgy of idolatry the world has ever seen." (http://www.matthewfox.org/blog/on-the-50th-anniversary-of-thomas-mertons-death#)
Advent reminds us that God's ways are radically different from the ways of the world (and even the Church). The kingdom of God among us does not come in force and violence, but as a vulnerable child born to parents who were outside society's power structure.
For Reflection:
Have you ever used violence, excessive power or force, or compulsion to accomplish what you thought were noble ends?
Reflect on your experience in light of this Advent text.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
Second Wednesday of Advent - December 12, 2018
The Weariness of Misplaced Trust
Isaiah 40:25-31
Matthew 11:28-30
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint. (Isa. 40:28-31)
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matt. 11:28-30)
In Isaiah's time, the hope for a savior was tied to political systems and empires. The people waited for God to raise up another king like David. Of course, governments and political systems have no power to "save"; rather, they seem to specialize in self-interest and in burdening their citizens. It is that very weariness to which Isaiah spoke, the assurance that God does not grow faint or weary . . . that those who hope in God's present and future will renew their strength, soar like eagles, not grow weary or faint.
Of course, Isaiah's day was not alone in trusting political or governmental solutions for complex human need. A vast part of the U.S. electorate voted in 2016 hoping their candidate would usher America back to some elusive past greatness, seeking political solutions to myriad social issues. And this approach was largely supported by huge coalitions of Christians who claim to trust God alone for salvation.
In the years since 2016, another segment of the electorate has sought to use political means to restore order to a chaotic government, believing that well-being will come through more elections and appointments.
Though political means represent the way our current system is set up, both groups are delusional, especially those who advocate that one party or the other holds the keys to happiness and well-being. Trusting political systems to grant even a semblance of salvation is idolatry, and idolatry held so closely is burdensome.
The Advent texts today invite us to take up another way, to yoke ourselves to Christ, to turn from frantic anxiety and weariness to One whose yoke is easy and burden is light.
This is how The Message says it:
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me — watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matt. 11:28-30, The Message)
For Reflection:
Sit with Matthew 11:28-30 in The Message. Let it speak to you. What do you hear? What invitations from Jesus stir your heart?
Isaiah 40:25-31
Matthew 11:28-30
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint. (Isa. 40:28-31)
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matt. 11:28-30)
In Isaiah's time, the hope for a savior was tied to political systems and empires. The people waited for God to raise up another king like David. Of course, governments and political systems have no power to "save"; rather, they seem to specialize in self-interest and in burdening their citizens. It is that very weariness to which Isaiah spoke, the assurance that God does not grow faint or weary . . . that those who hope in God's present and future will renew their strength, soar like eagles, not grow weary or faint.
Of course, Isaiah's day was not alone in trusting political or governmental solutions for complex human need. A vast part of the U.S. electorate voted in 2016 hoping their candidate would usher America back to some elusive past greatness, seeking political solutions to myriad social issues. And this approach was largely supported by huge coalitions of Christians who claim to trust God alone for salvation.
In the years since 2016, another segment of the electorate has sought to use political means to restore order to a chaotic government, believing that well-being will come through more elections and appointments.
Though political means represent the way our current system is set up, both groups are delusional, especially those who advocate that one party or the other holds the keys to happiness and well-being. Trusting political systems to grant even a semblance of salvation is idolatry, and idolatry held so closely is burdensome.
The Advent texts today invite us to take up another way, to yoke ourselves to Christ, to turn from frantic anxiety and weariness to One whose yoke is easy and burden is light.
This is how The Message says it:
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me — watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matt. 11:28-30, The Message)
For Reflection:
Sit with Matthew 11:28-30 in The Message. Let it speak to you. What do you hear? What invitations from Jesus stir your heart?
Tuesday, December 11, 2018
Second Tuesday of Advent - December 11, 2018
What Do You Think?
Isaiah 40:1-11
Matthew 18:12-14
He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young. (Isa. 40:11)
“What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish." (Matt 18:12-14)
Isaiah's promise of God's tender care for people finds fulfillment in Jesus' short teaching story of a shepherd who will not rest from laboring until all the sheep are cared for. Even when 99% of the sheep are safe and well-cared for, the shepherd still seeks the imperiled one.
Jesus begins the story, however, with a cryptic invitation: "What do you think?" He invites us into the story. He wants to know where we stand on these things. "What are your thoughts about this?"
I know some of my thoughts about the story. What about you?
**It's insane, leaving 99 sheep vulnerable in order to find just one.
**Better to sacrifice the one than to put the 99 at risk.
**It's not fiscally responsible. Financially you open yourself up to huge losses.
**This shepherd doesn't have much common sense.
Megan McKenna shares a reflection, written in 1997 by a friend, which illumines the Gospel story in a contemporary way. The United States is in a different place now than in 1997; nevertheless, the same arguments and ideas are still around.
In the ongoing debate about health care and health insurance in our country, one of the sticking points is what to do about those people who have no form of health insurance at all. Some argue that this situation is simply not acceptable. We need, they insist, a program that offers universal coverage, reaching even to the poorest of the poor. Another group argues strongly against this position, asserting that any attempt to provide insurance for everyone will end up bankrupting the system and ruining what we already have. Better to cover as many people as possible and sacrifice those few who slip through the cracks.
It is clear that those in the latter group would not hire the shepherd in today's Gospel as their risk management consultant. His search for the one sheep that has gone astray would be seen as an extravagant gesture, a completely unacceptable risk to the other ninety-nine sheep.
In an era that calculates how much it can afford to do for those at the bottom of the social ladder, the ethic of Jesus must seem extravagant almost to the point of absurdity. Yet it might be a worthwhile Advent exercise for those of us who claim to follow Jesus to picture ourselves explaining this position to him. What would we say? Would we not be forced to acknowledge that the phrase "We can't afford to do this" means that we cannot do it without threatening our own financial and social well-being?
One suspects that he who suffered and died so that all might be saved would not be particularly susceptible to arguments about risk management. Today's Gospel baldly asserts that it is no part of God's plan "that a single one of these little ones shall ever come to grief." The question that confronts us in the middle of this Advent season is this: "Where do we fit into that plan?"
(Megan McKenna, Advent, Christmas and Epiphany: Stories and Reflections on the Daily Readings, pp 58-59)
Jesus asks, "What are your thoughts about this? What do you think?"
For Reflection:
Take any contemporary social issue. Hold it up to this Gospel reading. Hold it up to the life and way of Jesus. Then hear Jesus ask you, "What do you think about this?"
Explain your position to him . . . why something should or should not be done. Are you open to altering your position in light of having to explain your stance to Jesus?
Possible issues for consideration might be:
Immigration
Gun control
Sexual harassment
Racial tensions
Fake news / "alterative facts"
Liberal elites / Basket of deplorables
Poverty
Terrorism
Hunger
Refugees
Salary inequality in the workplace
Isaiah 40:1-11
Matthew 18:12-14
He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young. (Isa. 40:11)
“What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish." (Matt 18:12-14)
Isaiah's promise of God's tender care for people finds fulfillment in Jesus' short teaching story of a shepherd who will not rest from laboring until all the sheep are cared for. Even when 99% of the sheep are safe and well-cared for, the shepherd still seeks the imperiled one.
Jesus begins the story, however, with a cryptic invitation: "What do you think?" He invites us into the story. He wants to know where we stand on these things. "What are your thoughts about this?"
I know some of my thoughts about the story. What about you?
**It's insane, leaving 99 sheep vulnerable in order to find just one.
**Better to sacrifice the one than to put the 99 at risk.
**It's not fiscally responsible. Financially you open yourself up to huge losses.
**This shepherd doesn't have much common sense.
Megan McKenna shares a reflection, written in 1997 by a friend, which illumines the Gospel story in a contemporary way. The United States is in a different place now than in 1997; nevertheless, the same arguments and ideas are still around.
In the ongoing debate about health care and health insurance in our country, one of the sticking points is what to do about those people who have no form of health insurance at all. Some argue that this situation is simply not acceptable. We need, they insist, a program that offers universal coverage, reaching even to the poorest of the poor. Another group argues strongly against this position, asserting that any attempt to provide insurance for everyone will end up bankrupting the system and ruining what we already have. Better to cover as many people as possible and sacrifice those few who slip through the cracks.
It is clear that those in the latter group would not hire the shepherd in today's Gospel as their risk management consultant. His search for the one sheep that has gone astray would be seen as an extravagant gesture, a completely unacceptable risk to the other ninety-nine sheep.
In an era that calculates how much it can afford to do for those at the bottom of the social ladder, the ethic of Jesus must seem extravagant almost to the point of absurdity. Yet it might be a worthwhile Advent exercise for those of us who claim to follow Jesus to picture ourselves explaining this position to him. What would we say? Would we not be forced to acknowledge that the phrase "We can't afford to do this" means that we cannot do it without threatening our own financial and social well-being?
One suspects that he who suffered and died so that all might be saved would not be particularly susceptible to arguments about risk management. Today's Gospel baldly asserts that it is no part of God's plan "that a single one of these little ones shall ever come to grief." The question that confronts us in the middle of this Advent season is this: "Where do we fit into that plan?"
(Megan McKenna, Advent, Christmas and Epiphany: Stories and Reflections on the Daily Readings, pp 58-59)
Jesus asks, "What are your thoughts about this? What do you think?"
For Reflection:
Take any contemporary social issue. Hold it up to this Gospel reading. Hold it up to the life and way of Jesus. Then hear Jesus ask you, "What do you think about this?"
Explain your position to him . . . why something should or should not be done. Are you open to altering your position in light of having to explain your stance to Jesus?
Possible issues for consideration might be:
Immigration
Gun control
Sexual harassment
Racial tensions
Fake news / "alterative facts"
Liberal elites / Basket of deplorables
Poverty
Terrorism
Hunger
Refugees
Salary inequality in the workplace
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.
Saturday, December 8, 2018
Second Sunday of Advent - December 9, 2018
Preparing the Way
Luke 3:1-6
Philippians 1:4-11
In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar—when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene — during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the country around the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. As it is written in the book of the words of Isaiah the prophet:
“A voice of one calling in the wilderness,
‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
make straight paths for him.
Every valley shall be filled in,
every mountain and hill made low.
The crooked roads shall become straight,
the rough ways smooth.
And all people will see God’s salvation.’” (Luke 3:1-6, NIV)
In the year of our Lord, Two-thousand, eighteen . . . when world leaders met in Argentina for the G-20 . . . in the third year of Donald Trump's presidency . . . when Jared Polis was elected governor of Colorado . . . when Francoise Bettencourt Meyers was named the richest woman in the world . . . when Jorge Mario Bergoglio was in the 5th year of his papacy as Pope Francis . . . and in Joel Osteen's 19th year of pastor at Lakewood in Houston . . . the word of God came to John, living in a small, nondescript town apart from the centers of power and wealth.
While the names and titles in Luke's litany are mostly foreign to us, taken together they are Luke's way of reminding us who truly controls in human history . . . not presidents and kings and the wealthy and religious leaders.
No. God grants the course of history, not humans. And rather than visiting traditional halls of power, God chooses to bring reveal God's-self to John in the obscurity of desert.
John is an ordinary man living an ascetic life, stirred by the word of the Lord to proclaim a message that would prepare people to see God's anointed.
Preparation is John's message. Get ready. Wait, but in waiting, straighten what has become crooked. Bring down what has become high. Raise up what has fallen into disrepair.
Advent waiting is preparation, the preparation John proclaimed. And what has to be prepared? I do. And you. The road he describes is the way into you, the road into your interior. Make it straight, stop being crooked. Don't be too high and proud. Don't be too low and full of shame. Don't litter the way with impediments.
Because the One who is coming wants to enter you!!
As Paul says in the Philippians text, the Spirit who began this good work in you is going to bring it to completion (Phil. 1:6).
For Reflection:
Today is a time to prepare the road into your interior. Is there anything high in you that has been unduly inflated? Is there shame that keeps you lower than you truly are? Is there anything crooked that needs to be straightened? Today we make ourselves ready for the One who seeks to come to us.
Luke 3:1-6
Philippians 1:4-11
In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar—when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, Herod tetrarch of Galilee, his brother Philip tetrarch of Iturea and Traconitis, and Lysanias tetrarch of Abilene — during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the country around the Jordan, preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. As it is written in the book of the words of Isaiah the prophet:
“A voice of one calling in the wilderness,
‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
make straight paths for him.
Every valley shall be filled in,
every mountain and hill made low.
The crooked roads shall become straight,
the rough ways smooth.
And all people will see God’s salvation.’” (Luke 3:1-6, NIV)
In the year of our Lord, Two-thousand, eighteen . . . when world leaders met in Argentina for the G-20 . . . in the third year of Donald Trump's presidency . . . when Jared Polis was elected governor of Colorado . . . when Francoise Bettencourt Meyers was named the richest woman in the world . . . when Jorge Mario Bergoglio was in the 5th year of his papacy as Pope Francis . . . and in Joel Osteen's 19th year of pastor at Lakewood in Houston . . . the word of God came to John, living in a small, nondescript town apart from the centers of power and wealth.
While the names and titles in Luke's litany are mostly foreign to us, taken together they are Luke's way of reminding us who truly controls in human history . . . not presidents and kings and the wealthy and religious leaders.
No. God grants the course of history, not humans. And rather than visiting traditional halls of power, God chooses to bring reveal God's-self to John in the obscurity of desert.
John is an ordinary man living an ascetic life, stirred by the word of the Lord to proclaim a message that would prepare people to see God's anointed.
Preparation is John's message. Get ready. Wait, but in waiting, straighten what has become crooked. Bring down what has become high. Raise up what has fallen into disrepair.
Advent waiting is preparation, the preparation John proclaimed. And what has to be prepared? I do. And you. The road he describes is the way into you, the road into your interior. Make it straight, stop being crooked. Don't be too high and proud. Don't be too low and full of shame. Don't litter the way with impediments.
Because the One who is coming wants to enter you!!
As Paul says in the Philippians text, the Spirit who began this good work in you is going to bring it to completion (Phil. 1:6).
For Reflection:
Today is a time to prepare the road into your interior. Is there anything high in you that has been unduly inflated? Is there shame that keeps you lower than you truly are? Is there anything crooked that needs to be straightened? Today we make ourselves ready for the One who seeks to come to us.
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