Bonhoeffer at the Gallows

This Sunday’s lectionary text, John 11:32-44 is about one of the two certainties of which Ben Franklin spoke: death (The other being...taxes of course).

It fits well with the liturgical order of the day, which is All Saints’ Day – a day that is also related to a much celebrated observance in Latin America called El Dia de los Muertos (The Day of the Dead, or All Souls day).

Although that festival has never been part of our family’s tradition, I know something about it from my Latino/a friends. It is a day, similar in some ways to our Halloween, when folk honor the dead, while at the same time engaging Death itself. Bending it. Making light of it. Poking fun at it, and the seriousness with which we take it.

Picture then, maybe, Lazarus in his mummy costume, sipping margaritas with Martha and Mary as they join the skeleton parade.

El Dia de los Muertes is a cultural means to affirm something about life: that there is a thin, fuzzy line that separates what we call this life with breath, from what happens after we shuffle off this mortal coil. A day to say (and this sounds really crazy): let’s not take death quite so dang seriously.

What I’ve found fascinating about this odd story from John – odd because Jesus intentionally lets his friend Lazarus die, to prove a point – is the way Jesus behaves in the midst of grieving people. He is “troubled” by it. The word in Greek doesn’t imply that he’s in sync with their grief – it implies that he is upset with it. It is related to the word for “snorting anger” and “scolding.” (I was so surprised to discover).

And yet, Jesus also rejects easy, pat answers - those bromides we're so tempted to offer in the awkward silence when in the presence of a grieving person.

But , is it possible Jesus weeps with the folks, while at the same time he’s angry that they don’t “get” what death is all about? How the enfleshed God in their midst came to completely transform their understanding of life and death – in giving them access to “resurrection life”? His response to grieving people is both to lament death's sting - but remind people of its true nature...remind people of their ultimate hope.

Here's an invitation, if anyone wants to weigh in and help the preacher this week: if and when you have experienced grief--what has been your experience of others' comfort...what has been helpful? Hurtful?

Dietrich Bonhoeffer will also make an appearance in the sermon on Sunday – a courageous saint of the church who stood up to Hitler, and was hanged by him. The same Bonhoeffer who wrote, “When Jesus calls us, he bids us come and die.”

At the gallows, his last words to his fellow prisoners were these: “This is the end. For me, the beginning of life.” What would it take to live a life like that?

Love to hear your thoughts. And see you Sunday. I see I’ve gotten quite a break from the pulpit!

Jeff

The Ungenerous Life?

This is a very very quick entry - appropriate, inasmuch as I am not the one preaching on Sunday. My colleague Dana Fearon is taking the pulpit - and I am left anticipating - looking very much forward to - what he has to say. (What a treat, by the way, when one has a "bye" for the week. I have two in a row, in fact).

Perhaps his text (and the title of this entry) will spell well enough the direction he is headed: the story of the rich man and Lazarus in Luke 16:19-31.

As I know I've mentioned in a sermon or two: how I envy my good friend Dante, inasmuch as he lived in an age of consequence...an age when personal faith hinged around the belief that one's actions in this life had eternal consequences for the next. Not to say that we have abandoned such a framework, but it is an interesting question to pose here: do you consider your actions now in light of what might be called "eternal consequences", whatever one might mean by that phrase?

And, whatever one's belief about what happens to us after this life in the flesh, we could also ask the questions: what does it do to us, here and now, when we fail to be generous? When we fail to live up to the high calling toward self-donation to which we are called by the one whose cross reveals the very limit of divine generosity (the offering of divine life itself for our benefit)?

While I'm riffing on this...should we as Christians call one another to account for our lack of generosity? And if so, how should we in our particular context? Should we really challenge ourselves to see the consequences involved with our addiction to getting and having?

Lazarus in this light is Jose from Honduras, working in a sweat shop making our Polo shirts. Lazarus is Joel from Manila, growing our sugarcane and growing cancer tumors from the insecticide that's legal there, but not here; or Gabriel from Argentina, working for subsistence wages to raise beef for our Quarter Pounders. Will there be hell to pay someday for our blindness to such injustice? (And if the Bible is true, we can't say it's not happening - just read the passage).

Should we challenge each other to be generous - to pay attention to the consequences of our ungenerosity?

Good stuff to ponder as we await Dr. Fearon's words on Sunday.

I know there are posts that people have made, and I confess - I've been guilty of the sin of busy-ness myself this week (Physician, heal thyself). I look forward to reading and commenting.

Peace,

Jeff

Your Money or Your Life

This week's scripture texts really represent a tee-shot for stewardship season, the text from Mark especially - the story of the Rich Young Ruler, who is asked by Jesus to give it all away.

Most out there will of course know that we usually equate stewardship with that time of year when we talk about money, the church budget, YOUR gift. And of course, good church leaders are quick to point out that stewardship is about so much more: it's really a lifestyle, an attitude, a spiritual practice. We don't just want your money (the community does indeed need it); but rather, we want (0r more aptly, Jesus wants) your life.

Stewardship is not fundamentally about money. It's about life. And what else is life, if not time - that requisite commodity we convert to money, with which to provide for our life, our family; to spread our influence, to supplement our enjoyment of life. All our wealth really originates - whether it's been earned or inherited - from time.

This Sunday's sermon - knowing the two after that will focus on money (Dr. Dana Fearon and Dr. Dennis Olson will preach October 18 and 25) - is about time. Perhaps the most precious commodity in our modern era.

Here's the question that is rattling around in my mind - much of which is the result of an extensive conversation at our last Staff Meeting: what is spiritual life worth? What is it worth in light of soccer, and baseball, and ballet, and the drama club and scouts?

Is church just another activity we do for enrichment and benefit, another commodity that aims to please the customer? In that light, it's so tempting to see it as just one more competing activity to fit in, one that can further drain the juice out of individuals and families, one that caves into the tempter's voice cooing in the modern ear, the more you do, the better you'll be....

When does all the activity end, and we say to ourselves: what's the point of it all?

Can our use of time be about acquisition too, in the same way we use our money? Acquisition of skills, bullet points on a college app, keeping up with the Joneses?

When I was a kid - we had no activities after school. The main activity seemed to be marauding around the neighborhood, hanging out, creating real friendships that came naturally. Church was a cornerstone to that culture - a part of our lives that enabled us to make sense of the rest of it. Not that all was great with that culture - but there was...space. And there was an attempt to hold it all together via symbols that imparted value and meaning to the rest of it. I'm not saying this is not the case now (I sure hope not!) But I feel the subtle corrosion of those values. Church can seem no longer the foundation; it's an add-on.

So - the question for Sunday that I'm curious about: what does Jesus words from Mark teach us about that? What if we substituted "time" in place of money in this story? ("And he went away sad, for he had many activities.")? For this rich young ruler, his money is getting in the way of his spiritual life. For us, could it also be our use of time?

Are there folks out there yearning for a simpler life? One more connected to the fundamental purposes for which we've been created? One more connected to community life, self-giving and self-sustaining activities? How do we approach that? And perhaps there are some out there who are already there. How did you do it?

For more study options, see the following study materials on Hebrews (another text I may bring in) or on Mark.

Love to hear your thoughts. And see you Sunday.

What did Jesus really say about divorce?

There are times when I want to say to the lectionary committee: thanks a lot.

(Note: The lectionary, in case you're not up with the church lingo, is the set of Bible passages that are prescribed to be read in a given church on a given Sunday. If a congregation follows the 3-year cycle of the lectionary, the people will hear a pretty balanced representation of the whole Bible during that time).

So - my beef with the lectionary committee this week has to do with three very difficult scripture readings assigned for this World Communion Sunday: one from Job (dealing with the why of human suffering), and two readings that have to deal with the topic of marriage and divorce (from Genesis and from Mark).

I chose the one about divorce as my sermon text this week. (Mark 10:2-6)

I only have about 8-10 minutes, since this is a communion Sunday.

I like a challenge....

Like to know which direction I'm going with it? (Like to suggest a direction?)

Hint: the sermon title is: "Disposable People".

You will get a great head start if you read about why divorce was such a big deal for Jesus by doing a bit of advanced study. (And if you click in there, DO indeed read down to the fine print.)

How did the practice of divorce differ in Jesus time and culture? How is it similar? Could Jesus' teaching on this subject be characterized as "feminist"? Why is the teaching about children follow on immediately afterward?

Study, pray, let me know if you have any insights - but danger, they may be added to the soup!

Have a great week - and see you Sunday.

Jeff

Falling Into an Outhouse

During a round of golf, here's what you say when you make a particularly bad and embarrassing shot that nevertheless ends up in wonderful spot: "falling into an outhouse and coming up with ice cream."

Crass. But hopefully it makes the point. (And, by the way, if you've seen this scene from the movie Slumdog Millionaire, you'll know that this is more than a metaphor). This Sunday, we will explore one of the mysteries at the heart of the Christian faith: God using our mistakes-making tendencies - our falling into the outhouse of human frailty - for the purpose of our transformation. Jesus indeed seems particularly fond of people who have been lost and who, through the incredible power of grace, get "found."

I will be brief this week. My wife looked at my entry last week, and commented about how it was too long and formidable a thing to read. So this week, brief.

First; read the text: Luke 15:11-24. A familiar one. I like the title "The Lost Son" instead of "The Prodigal Son", because it's set in a chapter full of stories about lost things that get found.

Watch these two clips. There is no better illustration of this strange phenomenon than this scene (shown in two parts) from the movie The Mission. First clip. Second clip. (For background on the story, see my entry from last week.)

Reflect. Are there instances in your life where you caught a glimpse of God's incredible grace, because you had been lost and got "found"? Further, as I mentioned my sermon last week: is it possible that the process of redeeming our mistakes actually begins not with our desire to get "off the hook," or our desire to assuage our guilt - but with our transformative encounter with the living God?

Extra Credit: If you'd like to get into some more detailed scripture study, click here.

Final Thoughts: Thanks for your question, Mark! (The question: "Did you truly mean that those who have [asked forgiveness in advance of sinning] at some point will never be forgiven by God? Is there room for such a person to stop doing so, repent of that practice, and be forgiven?" Briefly - yes, there's always room. Here's my response - with a bit of help from others.

Repentance: getting a clear view

Last week's sermon spurred several responses. I'll mention one here. One member shared with me having had a marital spat the night before - which had been weighing heavily that morning, and about which he was not ready to apologize at the time. He described to me how it was to take that first step, which I discussed in the sermon: Acknowledgement. The first step is to become clear about what one has done.

I did it. It was wrong. I take responsibility.

Obviously, the most important step is to communicate that to the one or ones you've hurt.

One thing I may mention on Sunday: just as there is in God's grace nothing that can't be forgiven, there is no statute of limitations on repentance. Aaron Lazare's wonderful book On Apology describes a 71 year old man who apologizes to a classmate (now 70) for something he had done in elementary school. It's a moving account of how it's never too late to begin this process.

This week, we look at the 2nd and 3rd step in this process of repentance: remorse; and restitution. When we realize we've done something that has torn the fabric of relationship with self and other, self and community, self and God - the next step is to feel the pain we have caused. This is an internal process of coming to clarity. To confess that to God, and then to express that pain publicly, as we indicate to the one(s) offended our contrition, is important both for us and for the other. It is necessary if healing is to continue.

One way to make this contrition (remorse) visible is to make some tangible and concrete effort at making right what was wrong (restitution). The deed cannot be undone; the vase cannot be unbroken. But, there can be concrete ways to move toward restoring what was lost. In some cases, the actual restitution is not so much about replacing or directly repairing what was lost, but it is the act itself that is most important.

The ancient word for this act is the word penance. Penance is very different from punishment. We should think of penance as a gift that aims to restore and repair the damage that has been done. Through this act, the healing power of God's grace is bestowed on us in and through that action. Doing penance is therefore not a punishment, but a gift.

One of the most powerful illustrations of this part of the process of repentance is this scene from The Mission. Robert Mendoza has hunted the Amazonian Indians as slaves for years. In a crime of passion, he murders a rival for his lover. In asking for penance, his friend Fr. Gabriel asks Mendoza to minister to the very same people he had once hunted down. See for yourself (click the link above) how these 2 steps become clear in Mendoza's journey up the cliff to the Mission. How does this show remorse and restitution? Why is it important that it be visible (and is convincing) to the ones who have been hurt? (Tune in next week for the rest of the scene!)

This week's scripture text is a familiar one for many of us: the story of Zaccheus in Luke 19:1-10--the tale of his climb, in this case up the sycamore tree. In it, we also see these two steps at work: contrition, and the act of restitution (or penance).

What interests me about this text is the fact that it takes place after Jesus has healed a blind man on the way into Jericho, a major trade checkpoint for goods and services going in and out of Palestine. Zaccheus was a chief tax collector, collecting levies on behalf of the Roman occupiers who were so hated by his fellow Jews ("Children of Abraham"). Such compatriots might question whether Zaccheus really remained a Child of Abraham because of his collaboration with them.

Zaccheus' climbing of that tree had to do with his desire for a clear view of the Christ. How does his act (of penance) serve to be another "tree" he must climb - and give him another clear view?

What does it mean to be "A Child of Abraham?"

Does Zaccheus' actions serve to restore him to community? To a right relationship with God? Wholeness in himself? (Salvation can indeed mean "Wholeness"?

What has been your experience of this process of repentance? Has it indeed helped you see more clearly - yourself, the other, God?

I would love to hear your responses...AND to hear about what you think of the effectiveness of this mode (blogging) as a companion to the sermon....

Jeff

PS - for further study of the scripture, click here.

Repentance: The Theology of Apology

This Sunday, I begin a new series called "Repentance: The Theology of Apology". I invite you to prepare, along with me, to hear and discern God's Word!

Some Information about this three-part series, beginning September 13

Part of the package in being human is making mistakes. But is it possible to repair our mistakes, especially when they harm other people, and to reorient our lives? How can we be restored when we’ve done something that brings shame to us? How do we deal with the whole mistake-prone, harm-causing nature that comes with being human?

As we will explore in this series, Christian faith offers us a tool—a divine gift, really—that enables us to heal what is broken, through the power of God’s grace. The most common name for this gift is repentance. Doing a 180. A process that begins with God’s reach into our lives, and asks of us a life-altering response that enables us to repair what's broken.

The secular name for this tool (or "art") is apology; we'll use the best of Christian theology, as well as social science, to explore how to use this tool - this gift - in our own life, and in our common life together.

An Invitation to Prepare

1. Read this week's scripture lesson, on which the sermon will be based: 2 Samuel 12:1-15.

2. Ponder some questions that I'm pondering. Respond below if you'd like.

What prevents David from seeing how destructive his own behavior is?

Why does Nathan use this particular technique to deal with David's moral blindness?

If there is a first-step to repentance - repairing what's been damaged and reorienting our life - what is it and why is it necessary?

3. Extra credit. Do some study on the scripture: click here.