Be still...

Timing is everything - or so they say. And given Pope Benedict's decision to retire, the reading of Fr. Thomas Keating's book on centering prayer, Intimacy with God, is fascinating.  It was published in 2009, of course, but today as I read the first few chapters that celebrate the wisdom of Vatican II - and spent time with Keating's careful and compassionate dismantling of much that has shaped the Roman Catholic church's theology and practice for so many generation - I couldn't help but wonder about what will happen next for this part of the church. And when Keating's deep concern is put alongside Gary Willis' new book taking on the historicity of the priesthood to say nothing of the "nuns on the bus" movement...

Keating calls into question three time-tested truths, attitudes and practices of the pre-Vatican II realm that continue to find resonance within the existing leadership class.  The first he calls "the Western Model of Spirituality where external acts are more important than internal acts."  This would include fasting, bodily penance, almsgiving, scupulosity re: attending the Mass and a variety of other practices that once gave shape and form to the faithful.  We spoke about this for a bit in worship yesterday in anticipation of observing a Holy Lent.  The old school Prods among us barely practiced any acts of piety during Lent - maybe dime or nickel mission folders - while our life long Roman Catholics spoke of not eating meat on Fridays or giving up candy.  When I mentioned that a soul on Facebook recently queried, "What should I give up for Lent?" there was a lot of knowing chuckles because in popular culture the external acts have come to define the season.

The second attitude Keating challenges believes that "the self initiates all good works and God rewards them."  It doesn't matter that this is essentially the Pelegian heresy of the 4th century - the belief that human beings have full authority over sin and are not fully dependent upon God's grace - this practice posits a distant Deity waiting for us to please him.  "If we do well, it is thumbs up; if we fail, it is thumbs down."  All of which is the polar opposite of the Gospel that teaches "that God initiates all good deeds through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit abiding within us." And the third unholy attitude of the Pre-Vatican II Church that Keating calls into question is our "overarching concern about getting into heaven rather than exercising the love of God and neighbor here and now."

And just so that we don't miss this point, he offers this caricature of a "good" pre-Vatican II Roman Catholic gentleman:

He attends Sunday mass faithfully, never eats meat on Friday and contributes generously to the collection every Sunday.  He goes to confession and Communion at least once a year and expect that on his death bed a priest will be there with the Last Rites to anoint him so that he can at least get to purgatory and then after a brief detainment, shortened by means of masses offered for the repose of his soul, move on to heaven to be amply rewards for his exemplary Catholic life.  It might never have occurred to this man that it might be a sin to exasperate or dominate his wife, shout at the children, underpay his servants and employees or to disregard the poor just down the street or in his parish.  In short, he adheres to the dogmas and observes the externals of the Roman Catholic religion, but fails to practice the gospel.  The gospel, you see, is a life to be lived, not just a set of observances... And this caricature is not too far-fetched.  Before the Second Vatican Council there was a climate that favored bargaining with God... to avoid hell or to shorten purgatory... Excessive concern about future rewards or punishment tended to take ordinary people's attention away from their primary duty of manifesting here and now the love of Christ towards their neighbors. (pp. 5-7)

My confirmation group wondered last night why so many people leave religion - both Roman Catholics as well as Protestants - and they concluded essentially what Keating has described:  too often the externals get confused for the heart and soul of the faith in ways that keep our wounded hearts intact. I like how Henri Nouwen puts it:

Resentment and gratitude cannot coexist, since resentment blocks the perception and experience of life as a gift. My resentment tells me that I don't receive what I deserve. It always manifests itself in envy.  But gratitude goes beyond the mine and thine and claims the truth that all of life is a pure gift.  In the past I always thought of gratitude as a spontaneous response to the awareness of gifts received. But I now realize that gratitude can also be lived as a discipline. The discipline of gratitude is the explicit effort to acknowledge that all I am and all I have is give to me as a gift of love, a gift to be celebrated with joy.  (That means) I must make a conscious choice.

I bumped up against my resentments and weariness today and they reminded me that the time has come for some solitude and renewal.  No more "doing" for a bit and a little more "being" and trusting in God's grace... I'm working on a quiet retreat.  As an old school Prod I know my own version of "works righteousness" and bargaining with God.  And while I pray with and for my Roman Catholic sisters and brothers during this hard time of transition, I also recognize the ebb and flow in my own soul.  Perhaps for us all this is a time "to be still and know that I am God."

So lent has truly begun...

One of the practices I am making time for this Lent is "centering prayer" ~ an old friend who has returned at just the right time ~ both because there are some in my community that want/need to practice this form of grace-filled prayer and because my soul is hungry, too.  Small wonder, then, that I've been spending time reading Henri Nouwen who once wrote:  The paradox is that hospitality asks for the creation of an empty space so that the guest can find his/her own soul.

That is, as my calling as a pastor ripens this season I realize my own need for nourishment and solitude in order to respond with hospitality and integrity.  Centering prayer as described by Fr. Thomas Keating is the most grace-filled form of contemplative prayer because it is all about quiet intention.  Thinking prayers "tend to reinforce our addictive process ~ our frenzy to 'get something' from the outer world to fuel our compulsions or mask our pain ~ but not so with centering prayer... for if we can (learn) to rest on a regular basis for twenty to thirty minutes without thinking, we begin to see that we are not our thoughts.  We have thoughts, but we are not our thoughts.  Most people suffer because they think that they are their thoughts and if their thoughts are upsetting, distressing or evil, they are stuck with them.  If they just stopped thinking for a while every day as a discipline, they would begin to see that they do not have to be dominated by their thoughts."

In a word, we could be filled and nourished simply by resting in God's grace as Christ promised.  This Lent as I try to live in gratitude, Nouwen's words about hospitality speak to me, too:  "Hospitality is the virtue which allows us to break through the narrowness of our own fears and open our houses to the stranger with the intuition that salvation comes to us in the form of a tired traveller."  In order to be present ~ and rested ~ to greet these travellers, I have recognized my own need for extended solitude.

A life without a lonely place, that is, a life without a quiet center, easily becomes destructive. When we cling to the results of our actions as our only way of self-identification, then we become possessive and defensive and tend to look at our fellow human beings more as enemies to be kept at a distance than as friends with whom we share the gifts of life... I am deeply convinced that gentleness, tenderness, peacefulness and the inner freedom to move closer to one another, or to withdraw from one another, are nurtured in solitude.  Without solitude, we cling to each other; we begin to worry about what we think and feel about each other; we quickly become suspicious of one another or irritated with each others; and we begin, often in unconscious ways, to scrutinise each other with a tiring hypersensitivity.

Without solitude shallow conflicts easily grow deep and cause painful wounds... but with solitude we learn to depend more on God.

Nouwen observes that such an awareness is never permanent.  Rather, they work as polarities where we find ourselves moving between hostility and hospitality in each hour and every day. For whatever reason, we are moving towards a deeper awareness of this strange journey ~ and that has awakened me to just how important solitude is in nourishing this commitment.  And so the Lenten fast has truly begun...

Amour for Lent...

We don't go "out" to the movies as much as we used to ~ for good and bad reasons.  There was a time I went to a new film every Friday afternoon as part of my Sabbath.  But life changes ~ and personal perspectives, culture and technologies shift ~ so most of what we watch appears through the magic of NetFlix streaming. And that is mostly wonderful (we're semi-addicted to British mysteries, film noir and off-beat documentaries) so many late evenings are given over to some quiet, introspective time together.  Besides, as is becoming more and more true, I like small venues for movies and music ~ the buzz of the multi-plex rarely works for me any more ~ so sitting in my favorite rocker with my dear one is sweet.

But there are times when seeing a film with others in a theatre is just what the doctor ordered.  Clearly "The Life of Pi" needed to be seen on a big screen in the company of others ~ and I loved it.  Same was could be said for "Searching for Sugar Man" ~ the moving story of Rodriguez and his musical impact on South Africa ~ it needed to be shared.  I had the same reaction watching the achingly beautiful story of love in the final stages of life, "Amour" directed by Michael Haneke and starring Emmanuelle Riva, Jean-Louis Trintigant and Isabelle Huppert.  In many ways it was our deep entrance into the season of Lent. (Check out the NY Times review @ http://movies. nytimes. com/2012/12/19/ movies/ michael-hanekes-amour-with-jean-louis-trintignant.html?r=0) 

As is always the case, no matter what movie I go to see, sometime in the first five minutes I nod off for about 30 seconds.  Same thing happens at classical music concerts, too.  In the quiet, shared darkness my tiredness catches up to me and... I discover I am asleep for a brief, unplanned power nap before returning ready to re-enter the story more fully engaged. This film, like others by this director, is an act of contemplation ~ the best definition of which is "taking a long, loving look at what is real."  In "Cache" Haneke looks at contemporary culture and notices how "civilization and barbarism are not antithetical." My sense is that he is not cruel in this observation, just unsentimental, as he observed the complicated ways real human beings make sense out of their broken lives. Often it is not pretty ~ and there is nothing sentimental about "Amour."  As one critic concluded:  this is what Nicholas Sparks' "The Notebook" could have been... and wasn't.  It is hard.  It is trying.  It is an ever-shrinking world of bad or worse choices alongside small acts of mercy and humility.

Contemplation ~ attentiveness ~ is an important aspect of Lent, yes?  Gregory Spencer writes, in Awakening the Quieter Virtues that:

When eradication includes stepping away from common involvements ~ what we traditionally call fasting or abstinence ~ we discover that "doing without" actually gives us more. Avoid shopping malls for a few months and you might be shocked at the garish consumerism when you return. Refrain from cynical acquaintances for a time and you might notice destructive talk when you reenter their world.  When cultivation develops single-mindedness, we may observe certain good things more frequently: the loving actions of a cashier or the generous enthusiasm of a teenager. A painting, a psychological theory or a software program might seem rich with the image of God.  As we practice the stewardship of the present, we learn to love what God loves, to notice life as the real thing it is, to choose life with all our hearts.

Sitting in the darkened theatre with others watching this carefully told story of human love that is simultaneously sacrificial and selfish, I wondered how others would integrate this act of contemplation into their lives.  We were all touched ~ moved out of our ordinary awareness and into an appreciation for the power of a "love that will lay itself down for another" ~ but what then?  Given our collective loss of shared metanarratives, what does this exercise in cinematic contemplation mean?  Where does it lead us?  How do we practice integrating its tender strength into our busy lives?  Is being awakened for a fleeting moment enough?

For me it called to mind the words of St. Paul in Philippians 4:  Sisters and brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable ~ if anything is excellent or praise-worthy~ think about such things.  I would add:  whatever is real ~ think and look upon whatever is real with love ~ look upon it for a long time, too so that it touches you and calls you deeper.

More thoughts on ash wednesday...

One of the questions I ask myself these days is, "How do we share the story of God's grace and judgment with the world in Christ in ways that communicate, challenge and convert the hearts of contemporary people?"  It isn't a new question, of course; and we've been wrestling with answers since the first gathering of women and men shared a Passover meal with Jesus in the Upper Room.  What's more, every age must explore its own ways of responding and some are more faithful than others.

Perhaps one of the reasons why this question has resurfaced this morning so boldly is that I have been ruminating in my head and heart about the experience of our recent ecumenical Ash Wednesday worship.  And as is so often the case, other things that I am reading bring my reflections into greater focus.  As I noted yesterday, what I missed most from the worship experience was a deep Lenten aesthetic:  many of the individual parts of the liturgy were beautiful - and many of the worship leaders were effective in communicating, too - but my overall sense was that we had constructed more of a Fat Tuesday celebration than an Ash Wednesday encounter with our wounded mortality.  So, as I am want to do, I've been letting this reaction percolate...

+ One factor that has bubbled up is that we're all still "fresh" in building worship together.  We know one another - professionally - and we may even like one another, but we're still learning how to trust one another in creating worship.  Some come from very low traditions, some from a high church environment; clearly we all have different histories and understandings about worship aesthetics that range from casual to intense. I think we're going to have to find ways to learn to talk and plan at a deeper level in the future.  Beyond simple participation and writing liturgies by committee, it would be valuable if we also spent time teasing out the atmospheric truths to the liturgical season.  That way each of the components - visual, musical, poetic and theological - could be created with a shared vision and understanding.  Absent a unified vision, I think we will miss a God given opportunity to go deeper in community.

+ Another factor at work within and among us has to do with how we comprehend our Christian metanarrative.  In a recent Christian Century, Thomas Long wrote an article called "Cellouid Scripture?"  It is a critique of popular culture's reaction to the Kathryn Bigelow's film Zero Dark Thirty.  Apparently, many culture warriors are angry that this story of hunting Osama Bin Laden treats torture with an ethical numbness.  But Long makes a more important point:

Normally this tempest woruld rage only in the teapots of film criticism, but this time it boiled over to the highest levels of government... Senator John McCain join Democratic senators Dianne Feinstein and Carl Levin in writing a letter to Sony Pictures that called the movie, "grossly inaccurate and misleading. You have," warned the senators, "a social and moral obligation to get the facts right."  REALLY? Since when does Hollywood have a social and moral obligation to get the facts right.  Washington's anxiety over the movie's facticity is sad evidence that, having ceded the task of constructing our social narrative to the entertainment industry, we are now fearfully beholden to it. If we allow movies and television to be our only storytellers, then we are bound to be alarmed when they press the limits of acceptability.

Long goes on to write:  "... we should be disturbed if the movies are our only gospel, a kind of celluloid scripture governing howe we understand history and ethics. In a postmodernity that's boldy free of metanarratives, the price we pay may be getting jerked around by little narratives that float down the cultural stream. At a deeper level, the concern for historical veracity misunderstands the moral value of fiction. Paul Ricoeur once described narrative fiction as an opportunity to experiment with alternative constructions of the world, a chance to ask imaginatvely, "What would life be like if the world were THIS way?"  

So one of the questions/concerns I would like to explore with my ecumenical colleagues is how do you share the metanarrative of our common faith?  My hunch is that in an era shaped more by a hermenutic of suspicion than of trust, we are teaching/preaching some different stories.  That may, indeed, be one of the reasons we haven't quite been able to create liturgical cohesion.  I know that in my faith community we have had to radically reconsider how we do Christian formation so that we sustained a shared and deep understanding of God's love and judgment in Christ.  At this point in my journey, I see the whole arc of the story as "the Paschal mystery."  That is, how God's healing grace enters time and history to create compassion and solidarity from out of the most horrible realities through those who love and trust God.  Or, as St. Paul would put it, "God has shown us in Jesus Christ that good can be accomplished through all things for those who love God."  Not that all things ARE good, not that we always get what is good; but rather good can come from all things through our loving trust of the Lord - and Jesus makes this clear. This would be a rich and helpful conversation, too.

And the last factor is simple:  we need to make certain that we bring our music and worship leaders into the planning, too.  Sensitive and creative clergy can do some great things, but as the Apostle Paul also reminds us, we are part of a body - and we need ALL of the body's gifts to create worship.  Especially the wisdom and presence of our musical and worship leaders.

In my on-going reading of Henri Nouwen this Lent I've been convicted by this insight:  We are all a part of a struggle from absurd living to obedient living.  Nouwen reminds us that the word "absurd" is, in fact, derived from the Latin surdus meaning "deaf."  That means absurd living is a way of remaining deaf to the voice of God speaking from within our silence.  "The world conspires against us hearing that voice and tries to make us absolutely deaf... overcoming our strong resistance to listening in order to become obedient people (including worship leaders) requires discipline."  I give thanks to God this day for what we've started with shared worship on Ash Wednesday - and look forward to where the Spirit might lead us next.

Thoughts on our ecumenical ash wednesday...

Yesterday five Protestant congregations gathered together @ 7 pm for a join Ash Wednesday worship.  In many ways, it was a blessing - deep cooperation among the clergy and lots of sharing and participation between the congregations - so I am grateful we are moving forward on this path.  Having read how a Missouri Synod pastor was reprimanded for participating in the Newtown Inter-Faith Memorial Service, I am even happier that the Lutherans, United Church of Christ, Episcopalians, Methodists and Baptists have found a way to cooperate.  In time, we will do more to live as the body of Christ together.

As is true with all joint efforts, some aspects of worship were stronger than others - that goes without saying - so there is no point reviewing the details here.  Upon deeper reflection, however, one aspect of this gathering left me uncomfortable; namely, in music, prayer and ambiance, we avoided the shadows - and that was a mistake.  When I left, it didn't feel like the start of an inward journey - it didn't look or sound like one either - because from beginning to end, it was too bright.

Henri Nouwen once wrote:

Too often we will do everything possible to avoid the confrontation with the experience of being alone, and sometimes we are able to create the most ingenious devices to prevent ourselves from being reminded of this condition.  Our culture has become most sophisticated in the the avoidance of pain, not only our physical pain, but our emotional and mental pain as well.  We not only bury our dead as if they were still alive, but we also bury our pains as if they were not really there.  We have become so used to this state of anesthesia, that we panic when there is nothing or nobody left to distract us... but this does not help us deal with our human predicament.  We are in danger of becoming unhappy people suffering from many unsatisfied cravings and tortured desires and expectations that never can be fulfilled.  Does not all creativity ask for a certain encounter with our loneliness, and does not the fear of this encounter severely limit our possible self expression?

Lent is about gratitude and grace - but in a minor key.  It needs shadow and doubt.  It demands silence and solitude, too.  If our liturgy is the "work of the people" - our prayerful practice of how we are to live in the world - we missed a chance to help one another go into our shared emptiness.  There was no silence.  The musical settings were all upbeat. Hmm... I know I didn't take the time to ponder this truth when we were writing this by committee.  And I suspect that the very nature of finalizing things by email diminished our awareness of the emotional qualities that were missing, too.  (Another lesson:  next time we should meet together and walk/speak through the finalized liturgy before going public IN the worship space while there is still time to make revisions.)

We might also have a "debriefing" conversation after Lent to talk about our common notions of liturgical aesthetics.  Clearly we have different understandings and experiences and this could be a way to help one another grow.  I hope this happens.  Please understand that I'm not saying worship didn't "work" - it did and I was blessed - but we missed some key moments where the whole community might have gone deeper.

A highlight for me was being the celebrant for Eucharist - and then serving the host to the gathered community.  It made me weep when a man I know is an uber-Roman Catholic came forward and received the "bread of life."  He made a point to come back after worship and ask me to hold him in prayer as he travels for business into very dangerous territory.  It is such a sweet privelege to be working in this small, inter-connected community.

When I got home last night I gave thanks to God for my faith community:  we had over 30 people present - and what a GREAT combination they were, too.  There were Lutherans and Roman Catholics, Baptists and Episcopalians alongside some Presbyterians, Methodists and Congregationalists.  I joked with the Council of Churches representative that we're doing our part of break down the divisions between traditions by bringing them all in to OUR congregations. 

Onward now to the first Sunday in Lent...

An upside-down poem on ash wednesday...

Editing Job (Carl Denis)

I'd cut the prologue, where God agrees
To let his opponent, Satan,
Torment our hero merely to prove
What omniscience must know already:
That Job's devotion isn't dependent
On his prosperity. And how foolish of God
If he supposes that Satan, once proven wrong,
Will agree to forego his spite against creation
For even a minute.

I'd keep the part where Job disdains
His friends' assumption that somehow
He must be to blame for his suffering,
And the part where he makes a moving appeal
To God for an explanation.
I'd drop God's irrelevant, angry tirade
About might and majesty versus weakness.

The issue is justice. Is our hero
Impertinent for expecting his god
To practice justice as well as preach it,
For assuming the definition of justice
That holds on earth holds as well above?
Abraham isn't reproved in Genesis
For asking, when God decides to burn Sodom,
If it's fair to lump the good with the wicked.

Let Job be allowed to complain
About his treatment as long as he wants to,
For months, for decades,
And in this way secure his place forever
In the hearts of all who believe
That suffering shouldn't be silent,
That grievances ought to be aired completely,
Whether heard or not.

As for the end, if it's meant to suggest
That patience will be rewarded, I'd cut it too.
Or else I suggest at least adding a passage
Where God, after replenishing Job's possessions,
Comes to the tent where the man sits grieving
To ask his pardon. How foolish of majesty
To have assumed that Job's new family,
New wife and children and servants,
Would be an ample substitute for the old.

 

(Ok there's more teo say, but this is a good start... blessings on Ash Wednesday)

I choose to stand with Newtown...

Our friends at Sojourners are circulating this letter to be sent to Congress:  I am in and share it with you, too.  (Check it out: https://mail.google. com/mail/u/0/#inbox/ 13cd422090f654a8)

We are pastors, community leaders, brothers, sisters, parents, and children. We are present at births, baptisms, weddings, and funerals. We grow, celebrate, and mourn along with the communities in which we work and serve. 

Our hearts break whenever a human life comes to a violent end. Along with the rest of the country, we have watched with sorrow and disbelief at the senseless gun violence in Newtown, Oak Creek, Aurora, Tucson and so many other places. These mass shootings are a painful reminder that such tragedies occur every day on our city streets. We know that God's heart breaks and parents mourn whether a child is killed in a classroom in the suburbs of Connecticut, a movie theater in Colorado, outside a school in Chicago, or on the streets of Los Angeles. 

All of our children, no matter the color of their skin, bleed red. All of our parents, no matter where they are from, cry bitter tears when they bury a child.

For the love of God and the lives of our nation's children, we call on Congress to enact common-sense public safety laws to reduce gun violence in our communities. Our faith compels us to action; we pray that it will convict you to lead.

Our friends at the Sandy Hook Promise are sharing "virtual valentines" for the people of Newtown.  Check it out: http://www.1millionhearts.sandyhookpromise.org/?utm_source= 1millionheartsblast0213&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=1millionheartsblast0213#

Lent as a deep mercy...

NOTE: Here are my worship notes for Lent 1 on Sunday, February 17, 2013.

Introduction

For people of the Christian faith, Lent is “the promise of deep mercy.”  It is a gentle alternative to the “pull of chaos and waste and superficiality” that takes up so much of our time (Joan Chittister.) And it gives shape and form to the practice of radical gratitude – living our lives with such a thankful heart that we ourselves become a blessing of joy and tenderness to others – a peaceful alternative to our worst fears, obsessions and addictions.

·       Lent is NOT meant to be an empty ritual nor a season for the sour and stern – although it has certainly become that in some places.  Nor is Lent intended to be a spiritual discipline largely ignored by Protestants even if that is often true, too. 

·       Rather Lent is a gift given to us in humility that leads us towards an antidote to ingratitude if we are able to receive it.  Did you get that?  It is a gift that offers us healing IF we are able and willing to accept it? 

That is what our first lesson was all about:  the early people of Israel learning to offer thanksgiving to the Lord by sharing the first fruits of their harvest.  In this not only did the dirt of the desert become a source of blessing, but so too the caring for the land and the sharing of its bounty.  In fact, this festival of first fruits became a way to worship God and care for the most vulnerable.  After the harvest of the grain and barley and wheat was complete, loaves of bread were baked and brought to worship.  They were offered to the Lord in a ceremony of thanksgiving.  And then these symbols of gratitude were brought to a table where two young lambs and one young bull had been sacrificed and roasted as a burnt offering.  And when the cooking was complete these offerings became a feast to which the poor, the stranger and the temple priests were nourished together in community.

·       Remember, says the reading from Deuteronomy that our ancestors were wandering Arameans who left their homes as illegal and undocumented aliens and once found protection in Egypt.  In time, however, their kin became slaves – oppressed and despised – but the Lord heard our cries and led us out to a new land filled with milk and honey.  So now we remember the blessing of freedom and new beginnings and celebrate it with a feast of gratitude.

·      That is what Lent is meant to be:  a remembering of God’s mercy, an act of shared gratitude, a living antidote to the fear and anger and waste that surrounds us.  Probably every generation needs to wrestle with the potential for a holy and gratitude-infused Lent.  Mary Jo Letty offers a contemporary urgency, however, when she writes that ours has become an era of social and ethical amnesia.  We have no sense of time, history or future:

 

Only a present-centered society, for example, will lay waste to the environment and leave it as a garbage heap for future generations. Only such a society will risk a global holocaust in order to preserve its present way of life. There is a dangerous myopia in mortgaging the future through spending policies in which the benefit to a few now will be paid for by many in the years to come… (These) are signs of a pervasive ingratitude that hovers over society as a whole and many individuals. Consumerism is at the heart of our discontent. No matter what we have now, it is never enough. We are programmed to want more, better, or different. The billionaire Howard Hughes was once asked how much money it would take to make him happy and he reportedly replied, "Just a little more."

Lent provides a tender and quiet alternative – a sacred antidote – grounded in radical gratitude.  Like St. Paul said:  no one is shut out of God’s grace and healing – not Jew or Greek – for everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.  But it takes some practice to call upon the Lord with an open and grateful heart – and to that end let’s consider what Jesus has to say about all of this on the first Sunday in our season of God’s mercy.

Insights

And before we reflect on the three essential challenges articulated in today’s Gospel, let me give you a bit of literary context because it makes an important theological point.  It isn’t an accident in Luke that after Jesus has been baptized – and before today’s story of his temptation in the desert – there is a genealogy included in the story.  Now most of the time most readers will skip over these things as boring and essentially irrelevant to our lives – and most of the time when I’m reading the Bible I do that, too – but it would be a mistake to ignore it today.

·       Because in Luke’s genealogy of Jesus we’re shown a connection between Jesus and Adam – the first man in God’s created universe – and Luke wants us to know that the good news of God’s mercy won’t become clear until we compare and contrast Jesus and Adam.  In fact, we won’t know how to call out to the Lord for salvation until we grasp the differences between Jesus and Adam.

·       So what do you think is going on here?  Why is the story of Adam and Eve important for us at the start of this season of mercy we call Lent?  Can you say out loud some of the things going on in the Adam and Eve story and why they might be significant in the light of Christ?

I think that Adam and Eve paint one picture of what life can be like while Jesus paints another – and at the start of Lent we’re asked to consider where we want to wind up. In the first picture, we see what it looks like when we follow our own direction – with no Lord but our own feelings and inclinations – and it leads to alienation and separation from God’s mercy.  Not because God wants to push us away, but rather because such emptiness is the consequence of living just for ourselves.  The picture of Adam and Eve is essentially self-centered – a story of ingratitude – and it’s sad consequences

The other picture, born of Jesus, is all about gratitude:  it is an equally hard and demanding life, filled with suffering and the Cross, but it is also saturated with joy and meaning.  Lent asks us to look at the picture of our own lives and wonder:  am I going in the right direction?  Am I living just for myself – without a deep connection to thanksgiving – or am I grounded in gratitude?  And just so that we can’t miss the point, the Gospel gives us three examples in the temptation of Christ in the wilderness:

·       The first has to do with consumption:  eating actually and it is another very subtle reference to the Adam and Eve story that invites us to wonder whether we’re living just to satisfy our own personal wants, addictions and needs.  Jesus is hungry – he’s been fasting for 40 days – and the Tempter playfully says:  Come on, man, use your gifts to make yourself happy.  Now there’s nothing wrong with being happy and there’s nothing wrong with using our resources and abilities to have a good time.  Jesus was often condemned by the religious authorities of his day as being a party animal.  So the question is NOT about good times, but rather what’s the trajectory of our life look like over time?  Is it generous or selfish arc?  Is it built upon gratitude or greed?  Is their ample evidence that we are trusting in God’s grace; or are we trying to protect ourselves and grab as much as we can because we’re afraid?  Are we fundamentally about sharing or stinginess?

 

·       The second has to do with power:  how are we going use our strength, influence, gifts, time and energy in the world?  Satan – diabolos the confuser – encourages Jesus to become a political leader.  Come on, man, if you had some corporate PAC money behind you – and could advance your cause with military and political power – think of all the people you could help.  And that’s a very seductive offer because Jesus wanted to help and heal his people.  But he decides against the Tempter’s offer because God’s grace isn’t partisan; like St. Paul reminds us, all have sinned and fallen short of the grace of God.  Not just Democrats – or Republicans – or the Roman Empire – or narrow minded religious leaders.  We all have fallen short of the grace of God and Christ came to share salvation with us all.

 

·       And third has to do with magic or sensationalism:  Jesus said that is always a mistake when it comes to caring for the people you love. Satan wanted Jesus to do some tricks – jump off the highest point of the Temple and see how the people react when God saves you from the fall – come on, man do something wild and flashy.  I couldn’t help but think of this when I saw the President and his skeet-shooting picture that was to my mind simply misguided pandering and manipulation.  So Jesus told Satan to get lost – and set his sights not upon the Temple but the Cross.

Three ways we either nourish or starve gratitude in our everyday lives:  consumption, power and style.  Gratitude practices sharing, solidarity and subtly – it is humble, quiet and tender – while ingratitude encourages waste, selfishness and sensationalism.  Gratitude is expressed by joy and caring for others while ingratitude is obsessed with the self.  Joan Chittister hit the nail on the head when she wrote:

When I myself am the total square footage of my own small world, that’s darkness. When my pains and my successes and my agendas are my only concern, that is darkness. When I see no larger meaning in my life than my own interests, that is darkness. But when I begin to look at life through the eyes of Christ, then the light begins to shines.

Gratitude, said Karl Barth, is all about joy while its opposite is all about fear and resentment and darkness.

Conclusion

In mercy – in tenderness – Lent comes around every year as a quiet gift to invite us out of our cycle of selfishness.  It is a subtle and liberating antidote to the cynical ingratitude that wants to enslave us.  So in the spirit and practice of Jesus who very clearly turned his back on temptation, I want to try a little experiment with you today.

·       Do you see the 3 x 5 cards in your pews?  Maybe you’ve been wondering what they’re for – so I’m going to tell you.  On one side, I’d like you to write down something that is important to you or which you feel confident of God’s support:  maybe it’s the love of your family or a job or even the love of the Lord. What I’m talking about are things that really matter the most to you and for which you sense you have God’s loving support.

·       Is that clear?  On one side write down one thing that you sense you can trust God about – and mark the top of that side:  TRUST.

·       On the other side of the card, write down something that you find it is difficult to trust God on right now:  it could be a health issue, a family or relationship concern, something happening in the world.  Something that you find it hard to trust God with, ok?  And mark that side of the card:  MISTRUST.

Now let me ask you something:  when you compare one side of your card to the other, why is it easier to trust God with one but not the other?  Why is one harder to trust than the other?  Can you share your thoughts out loud?  Maybe we can learn something about trust and gratitude together this morning…

Preacher David Lohse came up with a way to bring this all home that I’m going to borrow now:  I’d like to decide to either take your card with you or put it into the offering plate. If you take it with you, try carrying it around for the week, taking it out from time to time and giving thanks to God for that truth you feel trust about and praying about the harder truth.  And if you choose to put the card into the plate, then you are asking for prayers on these matters… and I will hold your concern in prayer during next week. 

 

Like I said at the beginning:  everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved – but it takes some practice.  So let those who have ears to hear, hear the good news of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Let's get this done...

Ms. Giffords is the right person at this moment in time:  I hold her in my prayers and give thanks to God for her courageous testimony in pursuit of common ground.

The dance of life...

Every day I speak with people burdened by shame, fear, boredom, anger or resentment.  They know they are unhappy, but they are unable to set themselves free.  Henri Nouwen realized this in his own life and often referenced the agony it caused him - and how he learned to let go of it, too.  Two quotes in the small book, The Dance of Life, really spoke to me today:

+ First, Nouwen urges those who want to live a God-centered life to choose to seek the light amidst the darkness.  "I don't have to wait until all is well, rather I can celebrate every little hint of the Kingdom that is at hand.  This is a real discipline... and the reward for choosing joy is joy itself... (for) once you choose to claim the joy hidden in the midst of all suffering, life becomes a celebration.  Joy never denies the sadness, but transforms it into a fertile soil for more joy."

+ And second those of us who have been wounded must practice letting go of our identities that define us by our woes.  "You can indeed become attached to dark forces such as resentment and hatred. As long as you seek retaliation, you cling to your own past. Sometimes it seems as though you might lose yourself along with your revenge and hate - so you stand there with balled-up fists, closed off to the other who wants to heal."

Sometimes, Nouwen notes, we have to "step over our anger, our jealousy or our feelings of rejection" and truly move on.  "Shake the dust off your sandals" is how Jesus putt it to his disciples.  "The temptation is to get stuck in our negative emotions, poking around in them as if we belong there. Then we become the 'offended one' or the 'forgotten one' or even the 'discarded one.' Yes, we can get attached to these negative identities and even take morbid pleasure in them..." But we are people of the exodus - we may have to wander in the wilderness for a generation - but we have another destination that has to do with rest and abundance and grace.

Today in worship we shared Carrie Newcomer's "I Believe" and afterwards I asked the people "what did this song feel like?"  (Not what did you think about this song or did the message resonate with you; but rather what did the song - melody, harmony, rhythm and lyrics - feel like to you?)  People said, "Gentle - at rest - like a conversation about sweet ordinary things."  Both Jesus and Paul say much the same thing when it comes to trusting and living in God's grace:

+ Luke 12: 22-31:  He said to his disciples, ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? If then you are not able to do so small a thing as that, why do you worry about the rest?Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. For it is the nations of the world that strive after all these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, strive for his^* kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.

+ Philippians 4: 4-8: Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, beloved,whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Consider the alternative: Fear, anger, resentment, striving, busyness, shame and emptiness.  "Being filled-up but unfulfilled, being busy yet bored (and tired), being involved yet lonely, these are the symptoms of the absurd life."

(art from Deviant Art)

A loving inner gallery...

The snow has come ~ about 15" ~ enough for the puppy to frolic and the old dog to be immobilized.  It is quiet, bright and cold ~ another perfect day for being still and enjoying the beauty (and the warmth of our little house.) As noted yesterday, after much cleaning (apparently my winter blues manifest themselves in sloppiness) I settled in with Henri Nouwen for some wandering and waiting.  Two gems popped out at me.

+ The first was this:  "Each human being suffers in a way no other human being suffers... and every brokenness can be befriended and put under the blessing" of God's grace.  I resonate with this because Nouwen both recognizes the uniqueness of our individual suffering AND reminds us that God's love is greater.  "Human suffering need not be an obstacle to joy and peace," he writes "but the very means to it.  In a confused and dislocated world, bereft of meaning..." God's grace is very near.  And very powerful, too.

+ The second insight builds on the first:  the art of living well is to cherish the little light we have been given by God to illuminate our path - and not complain about what is still in the darkness.  What we have in this moment is sufficient - not complete and maybe not all that we would like - but it is enough for this leg of the journey.  This suggests to me that sometimes grace comes as a simple invitation to sit for a while and honor what is - there will be time for more later, but for now just saying "Yes" to the present is the best path.

Apparently, Nouwen used regular Bible reading to create "an interior gallery" of Gospel truths.  He spoke of decorating his inner walls with images of God's grace so that where ever he went he could see reality mixed with God's presence.  What a tender and helpful way to talk about the discipline of the Book:  let it become our interior gallery of God's beauty, truth and light.  This calls to mind a passage from Philippians 4:8: Beloved whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

Not that there isn't anger, shame, fear, pain and injustice within and among us, of course; but rather how can I be present to what is real while resting and advancing the truth of grace at the same time?  Like this day - filled with sun and snow, beauty and piercingly cold wind, sounds and silence as well as chaos, disruption and disappointments, too - it is all real.  I'm going to try nourishing my inner gallery this year as a part of a Holy Lent. Nouwen writes:

Whenever I meet people during the day, I receive them in my inner room, trusting that the pictures on my walls will guide our meeting. Over the years, many new pictures have appear on my inner walls.  Some show words, some gestures of blessings, forgiveness, reconciliation and healing.  Many show faces:  the faces of Jesus and Mary, the faces of Therese of Lisieux and Charles de Foucauld, the faces of Ramakirshna and the Dalai Lama. It is very important that our inner room has pictures on its walls, pictures that allow those who enter our lives to have something to look at that tells them where they are and where they are invited to go.  Without prayer and contemplation, the walls of our inner gallery will remain barren and few will be inspired.