The magnificat and the 23rd day of Advent...

What does it mean to pray Mary's "magnificat" in all of its radical fullness? Yesterday, during our adult Sunday School class, Amy-Jill Levine - our guest teacher - mentioned the wisdom and insight of Walter Wink's "third way of Jesus" as one clue. Some may know that Wink's insights have been influential in South Africa's struggle to oppose injustice in the most ethical way possible.  He once said:

The problem of using violence (is that it) always turns you into the very thing you hate. We want so badly to oppose the palpable and flagrant evil of Bosnia and Somalia. Yet when we go in shooting and killing, etc., we find ourselves imperceptibly sucked into the very kinds of behavior we went in deploring. We find ourselves trying to get Aidid and operating as a death squad chasing him down. Before long, we are going to find ourselves engaged in ethnic cleansing. I have already heard a congressman speaking of the people of Somalia as infidels although they are God-believing Moslems. Pretty soon we dehumanize the enemy and we turn into the very thing we are opposing.

And Wink draws spiritual insight from a key teaching of the ministry of Jesus:

One of the most misunderstood passages in all of the Bible is Jesus' teaching about turning the other cheek. The passage runs this way: "You have heard that it was said, `An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, do not resist one who is evil. If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also. And if anyone takes you to court and sues you for your outer garment, give your undergarment as well. If one of the occupation troops forces you to carry his pack one mile, carry it two."

This passage has generally been understood by people as teaching non-resistance. Do not resist one who is evil has been taken to mean simply let them run all over you. Give up all concern for your own justice. If they hit you on one cheek, turn the other and let them batter you there too, which has been bad advice for battered women. As far as the soldier forcing you to take his pack an extra mile, well are you doing that voluntarily? It has become a platitude meaning extend yourself.

Jesus could not have meant those kinds of things. He resisted evil with every fiber of His being. There is not a single instance in which Jesus does not resist evil when He encounters it. The problem begins right there with the word resist. The Greek term is antistenai. Anti is familiar to us in English still, "against," "Anti"-Defamation League. Stenai means to stand. So, "stand against." Resist is not a mistranslation so much as an undertranslation. What has been overlooked is the degree to which antistenai is used in the NewTestament in the vast majority of cases as a technical term for warfare. To "stand against" refers to the marching of the two armies up against each other until they actually collide with one another and the battle ensues. That is called "taking a stand."

Ephesians 6:13 says, "Therefore put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand (antistenai) in that evil day and having done all to stand (stenai)."

The image there is not of a punch drunk boxer somehow managing to stay on his feet even though he is being pummeled by his adversary. It is to keep on fighting. Don't retreat. Don't give up. Don't turn your back and flee but stay in there and fight to the bitter end.

When Jesus says, "Do not resist one who is evil," there is something stronger than simply resist. It's do not resist violently. Jesus is indicating do not resist evil on its own terms. Don't let your opponent dictate the terms of your opposition. If I have a hoe and my opponent has a rifle, I am obviously going to have to get a rifle in order to fight on equal terms, but then my opponent gets a machine gun, so I have to get a machine gun. You have a spiral of violence that is unending.

Jesus is trying to break that spiral of violence. Don't resist one who is evil probably means something like, don't turn into the very thing you hate. Don't become what you oppose. The earliest translation of this is probably in a version of Romans 12 where Paul says, "Do not return evil for evil."

(see: The Third Way @ http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/wink_3707.htm

So the question that begs asking:  how much of this did Jesus learn from Mary? To be sure, the Magnificat is St. Luke's literary and/or story-telling way of linking Mary's life with that of other strong and faithful women:  Think of Miriam, Deborah or Hannah singing praises to the Lord. There is also a close affiliation with the Jubilee wisdom of the prophet Isaiah running through Luke's gospel, too and Mary's song echoes themes Jesus will proclaim at the start of his public ministry.

But there is something of Christ's radically non-violent third way going on here, too that refuses to cooperate with evil or simply ignore it.  When your dignity and "favor" come from God - not your power or social status but the Lord - then you can stand firm against evil without cooperating with it.  You can live as the Lord's favored one ~ Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee ~ as the prayer tells us.  Let's celebrate the revolutionary third way of Jesus who was born of Mary.

Another wonderful Sunday in Advent...

What an incredible and wonderful Sunday to bring Advent to a close:  the biblical scholar, Amy-Jill Levine was with us for our Sunday morning adult class - and after worship for conversation, too - our house was full for Advent IV and my music director debuted this afternoon with a classical festival concert with 65 voices in his choir!  I am knocked out!  Some of our young people from college were back, too - as well as a young Army officer - and there was a sense in church today that we're ALL going deeper into this wild, loving, gentle and totally counter cultural spirituality of Jesus.

+ We baptized a young mother and her 5 year old son this morning - both are from China -and that gave worship a whole other layer of meaning.  They've been worshipping with us since they moved to Pittsfield four years ago - about the same time we arrived - and now they were ready to take another step on the road of discipleship.

+ AJ Levine really helped bring the gospel stories about Christ's birth in Matthew and Luke to life as she pointed out the humor, the politics and the challenge to live into Christ's non-violent commitment to justice. Walter and June Wink joined us, too - he is one of the most insightful, challenging and wise scholars into the politics of Jesus - and I was blessed that in his aging years he was able to be a part of this special morning.

And as is so often the case, my soul was fed with today's music - in church - and at the afternoon concert.  There were 250+ people at the concert so when we sang the old Christmas carols - with 30 women doing descants - it was heavenly.  I find that I am always moved to tears by both "O Come All Ye Faithful" and "Joy to the World."  I don't need a hymnal - or song sheet - I just belt it out from memory - and when the high sopranos add those sweet, sweet descants... I'm a goner!

All I can do now is give thanks to God... and get ready for Christmas Eve. (Well, and have a glass of red wine and make some dinner...)

Let's have a different conversation about justice...

I grow weary - and bored - when old-line liberals blather on about how local congregations do not seem to be committed to justice. To be sure, most churches have been trained for generations to "do" acts of compassion if they take the presence of Christ seriously: "When did we see thee, Lord and feed, clothe, visit and care for thee?  Whenever you did so unto one of the least of these, my sisters and brothers, you did it unto me." The need to feed and clothe people is immediate - and necessary - so most churches do what we can to ease the pain and trust that the rest is up to God.

Rarely, however, do local congregations join social justice movements and become front line outposts for social change. The obvious exceptions include the radical reformers of the Social Gospel movement prior to WWI, parts of the Civil Rights struggle in the 40-60s, the anti-war movement during the Vietnam years and our current concern for eco-justice.  And I think there are three natural reasons why local churches rarely move beyond the very demanding level of sharing compassion:

+ The first has to do the fact that most social justice activity in the United States is related to legislation - not consciousness raising - and religious denominations have found it more effective and efficient to work directly with politicians and their staff. This is a functional reality tied to time and resources. To be sure, there are periodic grassroots campaigns - letters, phone calls and sometime human bodies directed towards our elected representatives - but usually the push for a change in legislation takes place through educational events, lobbying and small meetings. Local congregations can choose to keep abreast of the lobbying work their national offices are pursuing - and there are very insightful websites and church publications available - still the real work generally takes place at a macro level.

+ The second reason why local churches are not more justice oriented is equally functional: local churches are at the front lines of mercy and compassion work. People in need are not directed to Washington, DC - they knock on our doors and ring our bells - because this is where hunger centers, hospice and emergency services are located. In some sense, each local congregation acts like a medieval monastery by recognizing and caring for the presence of Christ in those who are lonely and in need.  We act locally and support the national church as it addresses the bigger picture. 

+ And the third reason that keeps local congregations more connected to compassion than social justice is relational:  pastors and active church members have been charged to build up the body of Christ.  We have not been called to change the world nor have we been empowered to give most of our energies to those beyond the faith community, right?  There are some who have been ordained to do that - and they ofter do that with courage and deep conviction - but that is not the calling of those who serve God in a local church.  We are to find ways of being faithful in community - and communities of faith are complex and nuanced. We rarely speak with one voice. We cherish being on the journey of faith together but know that this means differing levels of maturity and commitment.  And we try to cultivate a way of living with others that honors different insights, too.  The metaphor of the body is rich and asks us not to try to make everyone a tongue - or a heart - or a head.  Rather, the body celebrates different gifts so that we might all move together in Christ.

This was all brought to mind this morning while eating breakfast and reading the NYTimes where three different stories about local churches caught my attention:

+ Occupy Group Faults Church, a Onetime Ally (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/17/nyregion/church-that-aided-wall-st-protesters-is-now-their-target.html?_r=1&ref=todayspaper) Here you can see how the very different perspectives collide in a local church that is being called to move beyond its comfort zone. I think Trinity Wall Street is missing the mark and should let the OWS set up camp on their vacant lot.  Yes, this church is very used to being a source of doing the works of mercy; yes, it has been modestly supportive of the Occupy group when asked to help with gentle acts of compassion; but now they have an organic and immediate opportunity to link themselves with the most important grassroots social justice movement in America and... their vision is too narrow. 

No wonder Archbishop Desmond Tutu - a man who helped his church move into action when the time was right to engage justice - wrote the following:

Sisters and Brothers, I greet you in the Name of Our Lord and in the bonds of common friendship and struggle from my homeland of South Africa. I know of your own challenges and of this appeal to Trinity Church for the shelter of a new home and I am with you! May God bless this appeal of yours and may the good people of that noble parish heed your plea, if not for ease of access, then at least for a stay on any violence or arrests.

Yours is a voice for the world not just the neighborhood of Duarte Park. Injustice, unfairness, and the strangle hold of greed which has beset humanity in our times must be answered with a resounding, "No!" You are that answer. I write this to you not many miles away from the houses of the poor in my country. It pains me despite all the progress we have made. You see, the heartbeat of what you are asking for--that those who have too much must wake up to the cries of their brothers and sisters who have so little--beats in me and all South Africans who believe in justice.

Trinity Church is an esteemed and valued old friend of mine; from the earliest days when I was a young Deacon. Theirs was the consistent and supportive voice I heard when no one else supported me or our beloved brother Nelson Mandela. That is why it is especially painful for me to hear of the impasse you are experiencing with the parish. I appeal to them to find a way to help you. I appeal to them to embrace the higher calling of Our Lord Jesus Christ--which they live so well in all other ways--but now to do so in this instance...can we not rearrange our affairs for justice sake? Just as history watched as South Africa was reborn in promise and fairness so it is watching you now.

In closing, be assured of my thoughts and prayers, they are with you at this very hour.
God bless you,
+Desmond Tutu
Archbishop Emeritus of Cape Town

+ A New Kind of Catholic (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/17/us/politics/newt-gingrich-represents-new-political-era-for-catholics.html?ref=todayspaper) This is a fascinating story that explores the spiritual journey of Newt Gingrich from Lutheran to Southern Baptist to Roman Catholic. 

Let me say at the outset that it is not my place to question his sincerity here: as the article makes clear, his theological evolution rings true. Besides, that is something that only God will sort out at a time and place of the Lord's choosing. No, what grabbed my attention was that Gingrich was rebaptized in his new church - and his marriage is considered valid - and he can receive the sacraments, too. 

And herein lies the problem:  if the direction of Newt's spiritual life had gone in the other direction - from Catholicism to the Southern Baptists - and the Baptists had insisted on rebaptizing him as a convert, my Roman Catholic sisters and brothers would be waving the bloody shirt screaming:  there is only ONE baptism, ONE faith and ONE Lord our God, yes? What's more, if Newt had requested the rebaptism, why didn't the local priest and/or bishop explain that since the beginning of the church ALL baptisms are considered true and pure? (I won't even try to sort out how a twice married and divorced man is acceptable at the communion table and invited to a special audience with Pope Benedict, while Senator John Kerry or VP Joe Biden are officially prohibited from sharing Christ's grace at Holy Communion.)

Here is a whole other level of justice that rarely is discussed in any local church - respecting and honoring one an other's traditions - while engaged in honest theological debate. I have profound concerns about the unholy alliance crafted in the 1980s between the Roman Catholic bishops and the Right to Life evangelicals that are both theological and political. This cabal continues to generate social policy that weakens the common good. And given the directives of Rome, there is no place for people like me to explore these concerns with like minded Catholics. Consequently, in my town, ecumenical cooperation between Protestants and Catholics has atrophied.

+ So how do very different people of faith find a way to do justice together when we come up against something like this?  A One Man War Against American Islam (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/17/us/on-religion-a-one-man-war-on-american-muslims.html?ref=todayspaper) Let's just say that our current polarization nearly immobilizes us from seeking religious allies of different traditions to combat this injustice.  I know allies exist - in our music-making for peace - we found hundreds of them.  But our churches seem curiously inept when it comes to solidarity around religious intolerance.

So I have come to see "doing justice" work in the local church in a very different way: today I sense that the most effective way of doing justice is to help the local congregation come to embrace and trust the counter-cultural vision of Jesus.  This is slow and deliberate work. As Peterson has noted, it is subversive work. It trusts God more than self and affirms that the Spirit is leading us in ways we cannot even imagine. 

Three things are implicit in subversion: One, the status quo is wrong and must be overthrown if the world is going to be livable. It is so deeply wrong that repair work is futile... Two, there is another world aborning that is livable... And three, the usual means by which one kind is thrown out and another put in its place - military force or democratic elections - are not available... Consequently, prayer and parable are the tools of the subversive pastor...

For these are tools that trust the imagination and trust the Lord, too.  The Occupy people have some sense that social inequality will not be changed at this moment in time by tinkering with little laws on the national level.  Our souls must be healed and challenged - our vision must be cleared from addiction and fear - and the common good must be restored to its rightful place in our national conversations.  And so they, like the subversive pastor, start small - and quietly - and trust that the Spirit is stronger and wiser than all of us put together.

For a clear articulation of WHY the OWS folk are the guiding heart of this generation's quest for justice, check out Bill Moyer's work @ http://www.alternet.org/story/153349/Moyers:_Why_'We_The_People'_Must_Triumph_Over_Corporate_Power/

And that is how I see justice work being done in the local church in the 21st century.  Tomorrow we are blessed to welcome Amy-Jill Levine to our local church - one of the leading Jewish scholars of the New Testament - and co-editor of the brilliant Jewish Annotated New Testament.  Her presence - and shared wisdom - is another aspect of having a new conversation about doing justice, too.  If you are in town, please join us at 9:15 am.

This new/old conversation is grounded in community - not lone rangers or ideology - and requires a patience and commitment that is revolutionary. It has changed - and continues to change - my understanding of ministry.

Overwhelmed and relieved...

NOTE:  Every Thursday I send a note to my congregation via email.  Mostly it is an update about programming, but sometimes contains a theological reflection.  Here's what came out this morning...

At about this time in Advent I start to feel overwhelmed - and relieved. Like Carlton said to me in a recent email: "I thinking I'm burning my Advent candle at both ends!" (Brilliant!)

It is a curious paradox, to be sure, but both truths seem to take up residence within me for about two weeks. For example, I am overwhelmed at what still must be done before entering the liturgies of Christmas Eve: rehearsals, writing, practice, choreography, recruitment and all the rest take their toll. It doesn't matter that all the essentials have been in place for weeks, right? Working through the details of this season always take on a heightened significance because we each bring so many expectations to worship. We want this Christmas to be different. We want more intimacy and renewal when we enter the church. We are exhausted by the commercialism and want to feel the deep and healing love of God.

It doesn't matter that worship isn't about OUR wants, needs or expectations - worship is always about God - because this season evokes in us a special longing. Phillip Brooks got it right when he wrote in his famous carol: the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

What's more, in addition to the details of worship and our inner emptiness, through a strange and perplexing twist of fate, these later weeks of Advent are almost always filled with fretting and fussing about stewardship campaigns and budgets. Talk about a clash of values! (Who came up with such a twisted calendar and schedule, any way?!?) At a time when our public emphasis in worship is on watching and waiting - nourishing a quiet darkness within - our private/institutional perspective is all about wringing our hands over finances and cobbling together extra meetings in an already too busy schedule. So, overwhelmed is often they way I feel about this time of year.

Simultaneously, however, I am also relieved - and NOT that all of this fuss will soon be over - I don't think I've ever felt that way about Advent/Christmas. (Stewardship campaigns? You bet - but not Advent/Christmas.) And here's why: the lessons of the liturgy keep challenging me to let go at an ever deeper level and trust that God is God. If the second half of Advent into Christmas Eve speaks of anything, it is the fact that God's grace comes to us whether we're prepared or not. It comes to us whether we deserve it or not. And it comes to us regardless of sin or virtue, health or sickness, wisdom or ignorance. Into the darkest places of our hearts and souls comes a love that tells us we are... favored. Cherished. Beloved of God.

Like Mary whom the angel Gabriel celebrates with the words: Hail Mary, full of grace... God comes to us with grace.Eugene Peterson has written: "The reason that we who pray need a theologian at our side is that most of the difficulties of prayer are of our own making, the making of well-meaning friends or the devil who always seems to be looking after our best interests." His insights about this apply to this season, too. He continues:

So often we get more interested in ourselves that in God. We get absorbed in what is or is not happening in us. We get bewildered by the huge discrepancies between our feelings and our intentions; we get unsettled by moralistic accusations that call into question our worthiness to even engage in prayer; we get attracted to advertisements of secrets that will give us access to a privileged, spiritual elite. But prayer (like Advent and Christmas) has primarily to do with God, not us. It includes us, certainly - everything about us down to the last detail - but God is primary... and we get ourselves into trouble when we let ourselves become more interested in ourselves than in God.

This week I have been listening and praying and singing the song of Mary found in Luke 1. It is brilliant. Healing. Filled with hope and challenge - and saturated with a sense that God's grace is bigger than all of our sin and obsessions and worries and fears. I remain, of course, overwhelmed but also relieved for the experience of Mary is what God promises to us all.

Some days...

Some days...

Some days I hear things that not only break my heart and make my head split, but that also terrify my soul:  human sin and cruelty is so deep and real. Some days just when I think that after more than 30 years of ministry I've heard it all... well, another layer of depravity is exposed and I'm momentarily knocked on my ass. I guess that I'm never ultimately shocked when I have one of those days, but I still find myself at a loss for words and only tears come out.

That is one of the reasons I am grateful for the story of Mary in Luke's gospel: it says to me that no matter HOW broken - or forgotten - no matter how insignificant or irrelevant I might feel - or any one of us might feel - God can come to us in ways that make us feel favored.  All the filth and hurt, all the sin and failures, all the neglect and abuse and insignificance are not the totality of our lives when it comes to God's love. 

I don't pretend to "understand" the technicalities of the story of how Mary conceived the Lord Jesus. Neither can I explain how it came to pass except to say "with God all things are possible." And mostly I don't care what I can understand or explain, because at a much deeper level I know God's love can do all things - bring healing to broken souls, forgive sin, cleanse what is filthy and find favor with the most forgotten part of our humanity - so I am not bothered that the Bible speaks of Mary as a virgin who brings to birth a child.

What's more, if God can - and did - share such undeserved love with Mary, I trust by faith that this same incredible love is available to you and me.  It is available to every sinner - no matter how horrible and depraved - for with God's grace Mary's song becomes our own.

Mary said,
‘My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,
or he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants for ever.
Today was one of those days - and I give thanks to God for Mary - here is one of the most heavenly songs in her honor.

Why the Virgin Mary matters...

NOTE:  Here are my worship notes for the Fourth Sunday of Advent: December 18th. It builds on last week's conversation about why John the Baptist matters and is indebted to Luther Pearce, Karoline Lewis and Stanley Hawerwas.

Today I want to give the Virgin Mary – the mother of our Lord Jesus Christ – as much space and freedom to be her full self as I possibly can – and that’s going to take some real effort and commitment from all of us.  You see, only a few of us have grown up knowing Mary as the Theotokos – the Mother of God – as she is named in the mystical Eastern Orthodox tradition.

More of us, and I’m thinking mostly of those from the Roman Catholic world, are intimate with Mary through the Liturgy: how many here today know and still sometimes pray to her in the Hail Mary?

Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art Thou among women and blessed is the fruit of Thy womb Jesus; Holy Mary, Mother of God, prayer for us sinners now and at the time of our death. Amen.

Clearly you know more about our Lady than the rest of us Prods, right?  After all, growing up in the Reformed realm of New England the only thing I was taught about Mary was that she had a few important lines in the Christmas story – essentially as a vessel through which Christ came into the world – and that our religion – the one and only true religion – didn’t pay her any more attention because we weren’t like those pagans down the street with all their smells and bells and graven images.  And I came of age after Vatican II and a new flowering of ecumenism in the 60s, right?

I’m not kidding: we Protestants were taught precious little about the Virgin Mary – and were proud and determined to keep it that way! It is as if our ignorance was some type of spiritual virtue, right?

So we have some work to do when it comes to the Virgin and what she has to share with us as Advent gives birth to Christmas.  And while I don’t have any illusions that we’ll be able to resolve all of the questions she raises today, I do hope to consider three key insights that matter to us as 21^st century people of faith, ok?

First, let me touch on what it means to be the favored one of the Lord:  why that is important for Mary and why it matters to each and all of us.

Second, let me suggest that Mary is to Christians what Abraham is to Jews: a model of fidelity and humility in the face of truly impossible realities.

And third let’s explore together how Mary’s story gives shape and form to what it means to wrestles with and question God’s grace before embracing it; what preacher Karoline Lewis calls the movement from denial to discipleship, ok?

And to do that I want to ask you to pray with me:  Lord of heaven and earth, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of each of our hearts be made acceptable to you through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit as one God, now and always. Amen.

Now if we’re are going to let the story of the Virgin Mary speak to us today in all its power and wisdom – regardless of our theological heritage – God is going to have to break down some impressive barriers – especially when it comes to listening for and truly hearing the Sacred as it takes up residence in the words of the Scripture.

Old timers have heard these stories read over and over again – recent arrivals may not yet know why we even bother with so many Bible readings – and many of us in-between find our minds wandering to all the other things we need to accomplish to get ready for Christmas. There’s shopping to be done – fears about finances – children to cart here and there or loved ones to care for, right? There’s cleaning – and cooking – and work and worry: how in the world can we hear God’s call to us in Mary’s story that we are beloved and favored in the midst of all this clutter?

Well, about a hundred years ago, when I was first starting ministry, I got a clue in something that brother Eugene Peterson wrote concerning Psalm 40 and it keeps haunting me – especially now – in relation to Mary. He wrote that there is a brilliantly conceived metaphor that just might help us out when the Psalmist sings: “I waited patiently for the Lord who stooped and heard my cry.” This prayer/poem tells us that in patience not only did the Lord fill this soul with a new song – a song of praise that resonates with Mary’s radical obedience – but that by faith God has actually carved out a whole new set of ears in her head so that she can now actually hear the word of the Lord.

“It is puzzling,” Peterson writes, “that no translator renders the sentence into English just that way. They all prefer to paraphrase at this point, presenting the meaning adequately but losing the metaphor by saying: "thou hast given me an open ear” or even “you have given me ears to hear.” But to lose the metaphor of the text in this instance is not to be countenanced; the Hebrew verb is "dug."  Thou hast dug me new ears!”

It gets better as he continues saying: “Imagine a human head with no ears. A blockhead. Eyes, nose and mouth, but no ears. Where ears are usually found there is only a smooth, impenetrable surface, granitic bone. God speaks. No response.”  In Psalm 40:

This metaphor occurs in the context of a bustling religious activity deaf to the voice of God: "sacrifice and offering thou dost not desire…burnt offering and sin offering" (40:6). How did these people know about these offerings and how to make them? Well, they had read the prescriptions in Exodus and Leviticus and followed instructions. They had become religious. Their eyes read the words on the Torah page and rituals were formed. They had read the Scripture words accurately and gotten the ritual right. But how did it happen that they had missed the message "not required"? There must be something more involved than following directions for unblemished animals, a stone altar and a sacrificial fire. There is: God is speaking and must be listened to.

But what good is a speaking God without listening human ears? So God gets a pick and shovel and digs through the cranial granite, opening a passage that will give access to the interior depths, into the mind and heart. Or—maybe we are not to imagine a smooth expanse of skull but something like wells that have been stopped up with refuse: culture noise, throw-away gossip, garbage chatter. Our ears are so clogged that we cannot hear God speak. So God, like Isaac who dug again the wells that the Philistines had filled, redigs the ears trashed with our audio junk.

                             Working the Angels

Could it be that to hear the word of the Lord in the story of Mary, we’re not asked to turn off our minds or hearts – we can bring a 21^st century sensibility to the text with all our doubts – but we do have to shut down some of the clutter and flurry of this season? It is not coincidental, you know, that the ancient church fathers and mothers used to teach that the organ through which Mary conceived Jesus in the Spirit was the ear.

Our calling to cultivate the counter-cultural commitments of Advent – with its watching and waiting, its patient prayer and refusal to impose any expectation upon God – is one of the ways we allow the Lord to dig for us new ears to hear. “More and more,” writes Fr. Ron Rolheiser, “21^st century people are finding it more difficult to dwell in a universe inhabited by unseen presence of God… Our world has been reduced to what is physical, what can be measured, seen, touched, tasted and smelled. That means we’ve become mystically tone-deaf for all the goods that matter are in the shop window."

And because this is true – because we’re cluttered and hassled – overwhelmed and afraid – clogged-up with cultural garbage, emotional anxieties, economic insecurities and political madness until we can longer hear the word of the Lord – this is why the Virgin Mary matters to us: God notices her!

Think about that – God notices her and favors her and fills her with blessing – not because she is powerful or important. Not because she has yet earned her place in the pantheon of the saints. And certainly not because she has become a wise and learned teacher.

Who was Mary when the angel Gabriel visited her?  A teen age girl without pedigree – nobody special – nobody anyone in their right mind would have noticed – or favored – or blessed.

Hmmmmm… are with me here?  Are you beginning to sense why Mary matters to us? She shows us that God’s love is NOT earned or purchased – it is not conditioned by what we’ve accomplished or what we have already proven. God loves us… because God is love. How did old Jeremiah Wright, President Obama’s wild man preacher use to put it? “The Virgin Mary should make it clear to us all that the Lord can take a no body and turn her into a somebody who can tell anybody that everybody matters to the Lord our God.”

You matter – you are favored – you are the beloved of God because THAT is who God is amen!?!

That’s my first insight for today: the Virgin Mary matters to us because she is favored by the Lord our God just as she is – how does the old hymn put it – just as I am without one plea?!

The second insight about why the Virgin Mary matters to us comes from the theologian Stanley Hawerwas.  Our old friend, Luther Pierce, one of the finest Yankee preachers and men of faith I have known, wrote to me earlier this month from his new home in Florida after we confirmed that Amy-Jill Levine was going to be with us: “Some guys have all the luck!” he said. “Imagine getting Amy-Jill Levine on short notice. Congratulations. She is booked to come to the United Church of Gainesville in 2013 so I hope I'm still alive to see her in person. She is Judaism's great gift to Christianity.”

He went on to say: “I see you're preaching on Mary later on this month and I recently read Stanley Hawerwas' book, "Cross-Shattered Christ: Meditations on the Seven Last Words of Jesus." In recent years, I have tried to move away from the old Protestant prejudice about Mary… and Hawerwas helps when he equates her to Abraham for both replied to God:  Here I am, Lord.”

Once again my octogenarian mentor is light years ahead of me in his thinking and helped me go deeper because I’ve never really seen the connection between Mary and Abraham, have you? But it is clear:  Mary trusts what some have called the impossible possibility of the Lord just like Abraham. 

So in a popcorn fashion – real quick – without too much thinking: what do you remember about the story of Abraham and what this means for faith?  (He left his home without knowing where he was going to end up – he was an ancient man married to a barren woman that God promised a child – he trusted God when it came to the sacrifice of Isaac, etc.)

Can you see the parallel with the Virgin Mary? Hawerwas writes:  “Drawing disciples into the church, Mary shares her faith, making possible our faith... Mary, the new Eve, becomes for us the firstborn of a new reality, a new family that only God could create. (What’s more) when Christians repress the role of Mary in our salvation we are tempted to also forget that God remains faithful to his promises to his people the Jews. Our Savior was born of Mary, making us, like the Jews, a bodily people who live by faith in the One who asks us to behold his crucified body." 

Mary shows us in her flesh and blood what faith looks like – and this is the second insight for today.

And the third: Mary brings the totality of herself to God – all her questions and doubts along with her trust – and that ought to be good news for those of us with questions and doubts, too.  Sometimes the Holy Virgin is sentimentalized in piety and even the Bible can obscure the depth of her character.  Take, for example, what we read in today’s story about what happens after the angel Gabriel greets her with the words:  Hail, o favored one.”

The text tells us she was perplexed – she pondered what this meant in her heart – which is sometimes interpreted as Mary simply accepted what God dished out to her like a good little girl. “Trust and obey” as the old Baptist song puts it, “for there’s no other way.”

But that isn’t what is happening here: she is bewildered – completely knocked out by what is taking place – and can’t really make sense out of it. New Testament scholar, Karoline Lewis, puts it like this:  Mary has to acknowledge the impossible possibility of God.  Why me?

Why am I favored? How can the Lord be with me? After all, dhe knows her place. She knows who she is. And this should not be happening. She's a she, a teenager from the wrong side of the tracks. And then, to make matters worse, Gabriel tells her the big news that she's going to be pregnant with a son, but not just any son, the Son of the Most High, no less, from the lineage of David, with a never -- to -- end kingdom. OMG "How can this be?"

Do you grasp what’s going on?  Mary expresses and owns her incredulity: this is wacked – out of control – how can this be happening to me? I guess what I’m trying to say is that Mary isn’t automatically obedient and compliant, ok?  And if that is true for Mary – and Abraham – and Sarah and St. Paul and Luther Pierce and James Lumsden and Rick Floyd and so many, many others…

… can you see how this might be good news for you? In time – in trust – amidst all the questions and fears that didn’t go away even at the foot of the Cross – Mary shows us something about what it looks like to go from denial to discipleship.

There is more going on, beloved, than we understand or grasp.  We aren’t just who we think we are – God is calling us to become some body – somebody like Mary who brings Christ to birth in the most unlikely place.  And that's the good news for today with those who have ears to hear.

Sometimes you just can't make it on your own...

Today was full of surprises: amidst all the little details of getting things ready for Christmas Eve ...

+ a person from church stopped in to tell me about almost losing his mother this morning and how on fire his soul has become for Christ's love!

+ another church person sent me a note about a blog posting that touched my heart ~ so full of understanding and depth ~ it made me weep a little.

+ our church band is planning a little feast for after the New Year ~ and we're practicing at our house tomorrow night for Christmas Eve (going to work on Over the Rhine's, "Trumpet Child.")

+ I stopped by a farewell party for our out-going Mayor and felt a wave of deep love for the people of this strange little New England city struggling for renewal.

+ while sitting eating bean soup and watching a British mystery, another church person stopped by on a mental health day and stayed to help Di and I decorate the Christmas tree with LOTS of laughter and crazy stories of respective nutty families.

This has truly become our home and I very, very grateful. I hold some of my blogger friends close in prayer tonight as they wrestle with illness and recovery and the struggles of faith. I give thanks that there is so much compassion and creativity in this community.  And I am humbled that I have been allowed to be a part of it for a while.

Amy-Jill Levine joins us THIS Sunday: December 18th

NEW TESTAMENT SCHOLAR, AMY-JILL LEVINE, BRINGS JEWISH WISDOM TO THE NEW TESTAMENT:  Editor of the First Jewish Annotated New Testament Speaks at First Church, December 18, 2011

Summary: Although major New Testament figures – Jesus and Paul, Peter and James, Jesus' mother Mary and Mary Magdalene – were Jews, living in a culture steeped in Jewish history, beliefs, and practices, there has never been an edition of the New Testament that addresses its Jewish background and the culture from which it grew – until now. In The Jewish Annotated New Testament, leading experts under the general editorship of Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Z. Brettler put these writings back into the context of their original authors and audience and explain why this matters.

We are so excited to have AJ join us this coming Sunday for our Adult study class, worship and convesation and questions afterwards.  PLEASE... if you are in the area, come on by:

+ Adult Class starts at 9:15 am

+ Worship is at 10:30 am

+ Conversation and questions at 11:45 am

For more information: http://divinity.vanderbilt.edu/people/bio/amy-jill-levine

Sometimes I like it and sometimes I don't...

Sometimes I like what I write here and... sometimes I don't.  Sometimes I process things here in a way that helps me see what is going on inside and... sometimes I write bullshit.  Not too much, I hope but I know it happens.  And when I can discern the bullshit... well, I sometimes revise my words - or just delete the whole thing.  I did that earlier this evening with something I wrote and it kept nagging away at me that - in its essence - it was bullshit.  So... now it is gone!  (I'll explore the heart of it another time when the pieces come together.)

For now let me just share an extended quote that I've been thinking a lot about this Advent. It comes from one of Peterson's reflections on Psalm 40:6. I first read it about 25 years ago and I think it is worth reading and re-reading throughout this season:

A brilliantly conceived metaphor in Psalm 40:6 provides a pivot on which to turn the corner: "ears thou has dug for me" ('azenayim karîtha lî). It is puzzling that no translator renders the sentence into English just that way. They all prefer to paraphrase at this point, presenting the meaning adequately but losing the metaphor: "thou hast given me an open ear" (RSV). But to lose the metaphor in this instance is not to be countenanced; the Hebrew verb is "dug."

Imagine a human head with no ears. A blockhead. Eyes, nose, and mouth, but no ears. Where ears are usually found there is only a smooth, impenetrable surface, granitic bone. God speaks. No response. The metaphor occurs in the context of a bustling religious activity deaf to the voice of God: "sacrifice and offering thou dost not desire…burnt offering and sin offering" (40:6). How did these people know about these offerings and how to make them? They had read the prescriptions in Exodus and Leviticus and followed instructions. They had become religious. Their eyes read the words on the Torah page and rituals were formed. They had read the Scripture words accurately and gotten the ritual right. How did it happen that they had missed the message "not required"? There must be something more involved than following directions for unblemished animals, a stone altar, and a sacrificial fire. There is: God is speaking and must be listened to. But what good is a speaking God without listening human ears? So God gets a pick and shovel and digs through the cranial granite, opening a passage that will give access to the interior depths, into the mind and heart. Or—maybe we are not to imagine a smooth expanse of skull but something like wells that have been stopped up with refuse: culture noise, throw-away gossip, garbage chatter. Our ears are so clogged that we cannot hear God speak. God, like Isaac who dug again the wells that the Philistines had filled, redigs the ears trashed with audio junk.

The result is a restoration of Scripture: eyes turn into ears. The Hebrew sacrificial ritual included reading from a book, but the reading had degenerated into something done and watched. The business with the scroll was just part of the show, a verbal ingredient thrown into the ritual pot because the recipe called for it. Now with ears newly dug in the head of this person, a voice is heard calling, inviting. The hearer responds: "Lo, I come; in the roll of the book it is written of me; I delight to do thy will, O my God; thy law is within my heart" (40:7-8). The act of reading has become an act of listening. The book is discovered to have a voice in it directed to the reader-become-listener: "it is written of me." The words on the paper that were read with the eye are now heard with the ear and invade the heart: "I delight to do thy will…thy law is within my heart." God's word (thy will), which had been objectified in a written word (thy law), now is personalized in an answering and worshiping word (my heart). The act of reading becomes an act of listening. What was written down is revoiced: "I have told the glad news…. I have not restrained my lips" (40:9). No longer is God's word merely written, it is voiced. The ear takes over from the eye and involves the heart

Listening is back. The dynamic sequence has been restored. The psalm began with God listening: "I waited patiently for the Lord, he inclined to me and heard my cry" (40:1). Now the psalmist listens. God has dug through his thick skull and opened a passage for hearing. The living voice of God is attended by the human ear. The consequence, as always when God's word works, is gospel ("glad news of deliverance," "thy saving help"; 40:9, 10). It was a medieval commonplace that the organ of conception in the Virgin Mary was the ear.

As I get ready this week to consider how the Virgin Mary is to Christians what Abraham is to Jews... this makes a great deal of sense to me. It is a good reminder, too, when there's too much bullshit.

Day 14 of Advent...

In praying through the Psalms of the Advent season, I have discovered ~ again ~ the beauty and wisdom of God being revealed in liturgy.  Sadly, both the Reformed and Roman traditions have discouraged a deep understanding of God's revelation in the liturgy over the years ~ albeit for very different reasons. And the result has caused a collective liturgical illiteracy as well as the atrophy of our theological imaginations. For example, rarely is it clear that the heart and soul of this liturgical season is Epiphany ~ not Christmas. Thomas Keating writes:

Epiphany is the crowning feast of Christmas. We tend to think of Christmas as the greater feast, but in actual fact, it is only the beginning. It whets our appetite for the treasures to be revealed in the feasts to come. The great enlightenment of the Christmas-Epiphany Mystery is when we perceive that the divine light manifests not only that the Son of God has become a human being (the Incarnation), but that we are incorporated as living members into his body. This is the special grace of Epiphany... The Song of God gathers into himself the entire human family past, present and future... and the whole of God is now available for every human being who wants him... for this is the invitation to become divine. (p. 16 The Mystery of Christ)

Consequently, the flow of the liturgy between Advent and Epiphany does the following:

+ Advent invites us to become pregnant ~ to watch and wait and nourish the Spirit within and among us ~ and prepare a place of the coming of Christ.  It is NOT a time for feasting or festivities, but rather a season for simmering and brewing and a quiet growing excitement. Gertrud Mueller-Nelson writes that the outward ceremonies and symbols of Advent prepare us for something unexpected:

With quiet excitement, we go about those simple gestures that ratify the mystery about to take place. In ceremonies we deal directly not with thoughts but with actualities. We help ourselves to see again, in the outward sing, the inner truth. If we are awake and if we live the earthly process, we will feel what is inner and hidden. We make the wreath and light the candles and we gain the courage to stop the wheeling and dealing of our outer life: to sacrifice the wheels that grind away in our heads, the endless rationalizations... the wheels that grind away at outward progress at the cost of peace and justice in this world... the wheels that dial and roll and spin and swirl and drive us to distraction. The sacrificed wheel of the Advent wreath encourages us to stop and wait.

+ The outward, it would seem, helps us ready our inner realm for the arrival of God's light in a new and unexpected way at Christmas.  And given the profound darkness within and among us, the liturgy asks us to take some time to get ready for the light:  this is Advent.  Then there is Christmas ~ and as Keating says so wisely:  all we can do "on Christmas night is gasp in wonderment and rejoice with the angels and the shepherds who first experienced the Light."  We cannot comprehend it yet ~ it will take time and quiet reflection and practice to grasp this blessing ~ and that is what can happen if we attend to the liturgy between Christmas, the Feast of Epiphany and onward until Lent.  "The coming of Christ into our conscious lives is the ripe fruit of the Christmas-Epiphany Mystery. It presupposes a presence of Christ that is already within us and waiting to be awakened... so that we might grow in divinity."

+ No wonder that the celebration of the Christmas Light moves directly into the liturgical anguish of Lent:

In the light of the Christmas-Epiphany Mystery, we perceive that union with Christ is NOT some kind of spiritual happy hour. It is a war with the powers of evil that killed Jesus and that might kill us, too, if we get in their way. Because we live in the human condition, the divine light is constantly being challenged by the repressive and regressive forces within us as individuals and within society, neither of which wants to hear about love ~ certainly not about self-giving and sacrificial love.... And so we gather in worship ~ liturgy ~ to be empowered with the energy to go on showing love no matter what happens. (Keating)

With the Roman world wrestling with the new Sacramentary ~ steeped as it is in pre-Vatican II theology ~ and the Reformed realm dominated by mega-churches celebrating the prosperity gospel of Mammon it is small wonder that fewer and fewer "christians" grasp the wisdom of the liturgy.  I give thanks to a new generation of Evangelicals like Shane Claiborne (check it out @ http://www.thesimpleway.org/shane/) and the New Monks (check it out @ http://www.newmonasticism.org/index.php) as well as the brothers and sisters of Taize (@ http://www.taize.fr/en_article5806.html) who are reclaiming a liturgical spirituality for the 21st century.

To my way of thinking, they are part of the Holy One's renewal first celebrated in part one of Psalm 126:

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,^*
we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy;
then it was said among the nations,
‘The Lord has done great things for them.’
The Lord has done great things for us,
and we rejoiced.