Station V: Anonymous Bystander

Scripture Passage:  Mark 15: 21-24
They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus. ²²Then they brought Jesus^* to the place called Golgotha (which means the place of a skull). ²³And they offered him wine mixed with myrrh; but he did not take it. ²⁴And they crucified him, and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take.

We know the town from where he came--Cyrene, an ancient Greek colony that became a Roman colony near modern-day Shahhat, Libya.  We know that he was a father of two sons.  Beyond that, this man Simon is essentially an anonymous bystander.  We don't know why he was there at all.  Had he intended to come and bring his sons to this gory event or had they planned to visit Jerusalem, perhaps steep themselves in history and a little shopping, without realizing what this day would bring?  We don't know what about him prompted the guards to literally pluck him out of the crowd.  All we know is that this man lives in history as the one, the only one, who helped Jesus carry his cross to Golgotha.

The Scriptures do not say that he responded in any way other than to do it.  It is interesting that in all those years upon years of God's calls being met with "no, not me, please not me" that this anonymous man about whom we know little would be the one to do this.  So God calls a scared, young, no-name peasant girl to bring Jesus into the world and a foreign, probably dark-skinned, anonymous bystander to carry him out.  Isn't that just like God?  Here, just before the end, God slips one more Divine reversal in.

You know, Simon had to be afraid.  Good grief.  Here he was in the middle of the processional to a crucifixion!  What if they killed him too?  What would happen to his sons?  His family was miles away.  How would they even know what had happened to him?  And, yet, he didn't seem to question his role.  He put his hand on Jesus' shoulder as if to say, "I'm here."  Then he leaned down and picked up the heavy cross, being careful to place his hands rather than running them down the splintering wood.  And then they began to walk--Jesus and this man, this dark-skinned anonymous man who Jesus had never met, this child of God, this new disciple, this one who without hesitation carried the cross of his Savior.  He would go through the gates and up the hill, touching the edge between life and death. 

But, again, I have to ask, where were those disciples?  Where were those who Jesus had called, who Jesus had groomed, who had been part of Jesus' ministry, who had been Jesus' friends?  Why was it THIS man and not them?  Why was it Simon that when it was all said and done was the first to take the yoke of Christ unto himself?  After all, it seems, the disciples would have been in the best position.  It would have made a whole lot more sense.  But, then, where would we be?  Where would those of us who Jesus had called, who Jesus had groomed, who are part of Jesus' ministry?  Why isn't it us touching the edge between life and death?  Why do we hold back?

28 ‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’  (Matthew 11: 28-30).  See, we read this with such comfort at what Jesus can do for us.  But what does it mean to "take my yoke"?  For, THAT is the way that our souls will rest.

So, on this Lenten journey, move from being an anonymous bystander to a disciple of Christ.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli


 

Emergence

Lectionary Passage:  Jeremiah 1: 4-10
⁴Now the word of the Lord came to me saying,⁵“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.”⁶Then I said, “Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.”⁷But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am only a boy’; for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you,⁸Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord.”⁹Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the Lord said to me, “Now I have put my words in your mouth.¹⁰See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.”

This account of the calling of Jeremiah includes the things that so many call stories do (including, probably, most of ours).  They include a calling from God, a promise that God will help and support and walk with the one that God has seen fit to call.  Then it includes an argument.  "No, no, no, not me.  I have my life all planned out.  This cannot be happening.  In fact, this is really going to mess up my plans."  But, finally, it includes a response.  In Jeremiah's case, God puts the words in his mouth, promising him that he would know what to say and when to say it.  And from that time on, Jeremiah is single-minded in what he is called to do.  But the problem is that the words that Jeremiah was called to say were not what people planned on hearing.  In fact, Jeremiah's message didn't resonate at all with the society to which he was appointed to serve.  He wasn't called to tell them how great they were doing; instead, he was called to pluck up, pull down, destroy, and overthrow.  And then, and only then, is he called to build and plant.  What is that about?  This plucking and pulling and destroying and overthrowing doesn't sound like God's work.  In fact, it just sounds like out and out chaos.

So did you forget?  Did you forget what God does with chaos?  Read Genesis 1.  God took chaos and created order.  And, as I recall, it turned out pretty well. And yet, we often forget that.  We would much rather God take the plans that we've conjured up for our lives and have God just continue them. But sometimes we have to pluck and pull and even destroy and overthrow.  Sometimes, we just need to start again with a new plan.  But change is hard. Change is scary.  Walking that tightrope can tip us into opportunity or crisis at any turn.  So how do we prepare for that?

Maybe we don't.  Maybe preparation comes not in the form of plans but rather a sort of clearing of our minds and our souls so that God can fill us.  Maybe preparing for change, preparing for what God is going to do in our lives, has to involve plucking and pulling and destroying.  Maybe deep in that chaos is a certain holiness, a newness that has just begun to emerge from its womb.  And God, rather than stamping some sort of holy approval on our comfortable and complacent existence, calls us into a new way of being.  God is always recasting the vision for our lives, always pushing us out of our comfort zones, and always birthing us into newness. 

But God reminded Jeremiah that even in that womb, he was not alone.  God is there in our transformation.  But we can't stay there.  God has too much in store for us.  So, all through our lifetime, as we emerge from womb to womb, God is birthing us closer and closer to the life that God has created just for us.  Maybe we're not called so much to plan our lives but rather to emerge.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli 

LENT 2B: Identity

Octavia Spencer accepting the Oscar for Best
Supporting Actress, February 26, 2012.

Lectionary Passage:  Genesis 17: (1-3) 4-7, (15-16):
As for me, this is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you.   I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.

This passage is the story that establishes Abram's identity.  He would become Abraham, the "father of many people".  And Sarai, his (sort of) doting and laughing wife, would become Sarah, the "princess of many."  Abraham and Sarah now have a new identity, an identity that comes from this established relationship with God.  This is what it means to be a covenant people.  In the Jewish tradition, this is the establishment of the identity of a people, the establishment of a covenant people.  God has done a new thing.  Nothing would ever be the same again.

Identity is a funny thing.  With whom do you identify?  With whom do you align yourself?  What are the relationships in your life?  How do you see yourself?  The idea of a covenant connotes an agreement.  But, more than that, it implies a relationship.  This was not some sort of holy "to do" list that was given to Abraham.  God never told him what he had to do to be accepted, to be part of the covenant, to  part of the people, to be "godly" (oh, I hate that word!..."like God"...are any of us really "like God"?)   God never gave him a list of beliefs to which he had to adhere to be part of the covenant community.  (Hmmm!)  Once again, the covenant was not about right living; it was about relationship.  God claimed Abram and Sarai as children of God and their life was never the same.  And then God renames them.  Their names mean something--father and princess.  The new names are symbolic of the new relationship into which they enter.

I looked up the meaning of my name.  "Shelli" (not spelled that way--it is NEVER spelled that way!) is actually a derivative of the Hebrew, Rachel--"ewe, female sheep, little rock, rest, sloped meadow."  (So, Sarai becomes a princess and I am a sheep that rolls down a small hill and goes to sleep!)  Like I said, identity is a funny thing.  We hold tightly to the way we envision ourselves, to the image that we've created.  And then God comes up with the most ludicrous thing, like being the father or the princess of many (or maybe a sheep that follows down a gently sloping meadow! Hmmm!).  It's just laughable.

We actually didn't read the part where Abraham laughed.  He laughed because it was far-fetched and downright ludicrous.  But then, when you think about it, most of God's promises are.  And then when he told Sarai the whole preposterous scenario, she also laughed.  So, do you think it was disbelief or nervousness or something else that brought laughter?  We in our 21st century boxes probably think it a little irreverent. After all, would you dare laugh at God? Well, good grief, don’t you think God is laughing at us sometimes? Perhaps laughter is what brings perspective. It brings humility; it brings a different way of looking at oneself. Laughter is about relationship.  Reinhold Niebuhr wrote, “Humor is the beginning of faith and laughter is the beginning of prayer.”

Abraham laughed. Sarah laughed. And I’m betting God laughed. (You can just imagine the inside joke between the three: “This is going to be good. No one will ever believe this could happen.” You?  Sarai?  LOL!!!--for those who don't text, it means "laugh out loud"!) Maybe laughter is our grace-filled way of getting out of our self and realizing that, as ludicrous and unbelievable as it may be, God’s promise holds and, more than that, holds something for us--a new identity. Maybe it’s our way of admitting once and for all that we don’t have it all figured out, that, in all honesty, we don’t even have ourselves figured out, that there’s a whole new identity just waiting for us to claim. In this Season of Lent, we are called to get out of our self, to open ourselves to possibilities and ways of being that we cannot even fathom. Go ahead and laugh. It's probably incredibly ludicrous...and it's only the beginning.

Now I know that many of you are amazed that I can write this through my sleepy-eyed disposition at 4:00 in the morning.  Well, the truth is, I POST these at 4:00 in the morning while I'm beginning my last hour of shut-eye.  So, as I write this, I'm sort of half-heartedly watching the Academy Awards.  And Octavia Spencer has just won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her portrayal of a maid in the segregated South.  I have to convess that I never got my packed-in life around to see the movie but on a rainy Saturday afternoon, I sat and read the whole book on my Kindle.  It was about identity. It was about the identity that we have and the identity that the world projects upon us. I mean, think about it, how do those who are oppressed, either through out and out slavery or just socially acceptable oppression (even today!) envision themselves.  What is their identity--the one they have or the one that is projected upon them?  They both matter because they both form us.  But the key is that we are called to be transformed by the identity that God has for us.  So whatever identity that you or others project upon yourself, it is the covenant, the identity that calls us and recreates us that matters.

When Octavia Spencer accepted the Oscar tonight, her speech was not eloquent and it was not rehearsed (Thanks be to God!).  If anything, she was so shocked that she was almost laughing!  She voiced the perfunctory thank-you's and then she closed:  "I share this with everybody.  Thank you world."

As laughable as it may be, I pray that my identity will be true, worthy of sharing, and will project not a projected image of what I should be, but a "thank you" to the world.  In this Season of Lent, we, as a covenant people, are called to take a good hard look at our identity, at the way our relationship with God is lived out in our lives.  We are called to be real. 

So, continuing with our act of giving up so that we can take on, on this fifth day of Lent, think about your own identity.  What is real?  What is projected?  What part of yourself can you share with everybody?  Let go of those things that only benefit yourself.  And take on those things that say "thank you world!"

Grace and Peace on this Lenten Journey,

Shelli

LENT 1B: The Harrowing of Hell

The Harrowing of Hell, depicted in the Petites Heures
de Jean de Berry, 14th c.  illuminated
manuscript commissioned by
John, Duke of Berry.

LECTIONARY PASSAGE:  1 Peter 3: 18-22
For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God. He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit, in which also he went and made a proclamation to the spirits in prison, who in former times did not obey, when God waited patiently in the days of Noah, during the building of the ark, in which a few, that is, eight persons, were saved through water.  And baptism, which this prefigured, now saves you—not as a removal of dirt from the body, but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has gone into heaven and is at the right hand of God, with angels, authorities, and powers made subject to him.

The faith communities to which this was written did not have it easy.  They were the outsiders--shunned, unaccepted, separated from the only society that they knew.  To put it bluntly, they were living in hell.  So this comes as a reminder that what they are experiencing now is not permanent.  It is not the final word.  New life is just over the horizon.  For the writer of this epistle, this is a sure promise, made real through our baptism.  Baptism here is depicted a recreation, as resurrection.  The whole point is that believers do not need to fear the difficulties and sufferings that are present now.  God has indeed promised something new.  In all honesty, I don't think this writer necessarily saw baptism as merely a cleansing.  Rather, baptism is a claiming.  We are claimed by God.  We are empowered by the Spirit of Christ.  We are made new.  So no matter what hell we might find ourselves in, there is more up ahead.  God has claimed us.  Each of us is a beloved child of God.  Our baptism acknowledges that and, like the waters that flooded the earth, sweeps us into new life.

In fact, even the powers of hell cannot impede the recreation that is happening all around us.  Now our church chooses to recite the more sanitized version of the Apostles’ Creed but there is an older version that dates back to the 5^th century that goes like this:  "I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, his only Son our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried. He descended into hell."  That last sentence is believed to have been loosely taken from this passage.  We read that Jesus proclaimed even to the “spirits in prison”.  In other words, Jesus descended into hell, into the bowels and depths of life.  And, there, he blew the gates open and the eternally forsaken escaped, crossing the threshold to new life.  In the Middles Ages, it was referred to as the “Harrowing of Hell”.  Now, admittedly, there is little basis for this theology but if death hath no sting, why would hell win?  (And to be honest, there's really little basis for the notion of "hell" as we 21st century folks think of it.  I think Dante did us no favors. ) If God’s promise extends to all of Creation, then perhaps hell really hath no fury.    

Now this is in no way a lessening of the impact or importance of sin.  We all know that.  We sin.  We try not to.  But we sin.  In fact, most of us are pretty good at creating our own hell.  We plunge ourselves into darkness, into separation from God, through fear, or guilt, or shame, and we struggle to claw our way out.  But even the powers of sin are no match for the promise before us.  That is the whole point of our faith.  So, if we believe that, why is it such a stretch to believe that the God of all, the God who loves us, and who has claimed us, could vanquish all the powers that afflict us, that God has vanquished all the powers of hell?

Perhaps this Lenten season of penitence is not so much a call to grovel at the feet of a forgiving God but rather to faithfully follow this God who beckons us home again to begin again.  Maybe it truly is the harrowing of whatever hell we find ourselves in.  But in order to do that, we have to name our sin and release its power.  It’s part of our story.  It’s part of what we must tell.  And with that, the waters subside and the green earth rises again.  Now, I don't profess to know the whole truth about this hell thing.  It's not an issue for me.  But I struggle to reconcile the notion of a place called hell with this God who offers eternal mercy and grace and forgiveness, with this God that wants the Creation to return so badly to where they belong, to enter into a relationship with the Godself--so badly, in fact, that this God would come and walk this earth just to show us the way home.  Oh, don't get me wrong.  Hell definitely exists.  But perhaps it is our creation, rather than God's.  Perhaps our faith will show us that the gates of hell have already been removed and that all we have to do is walk the way toward life.  Let this Lenten Journey be your Journey toward Life.

So, continuing with our act of giving up so that we can take on, on this third day of Lent, think about those things that create your hell.  Is it fear?  or shame?  or guilt?  Is it the need for everyone to approve of you and like you?  Whatever it is, let it go.  Make room for that which gives you Life.

Grace and Peace on this Lenten Journey,

Shelli

At the center of the Christian faith is the history of Christ’s passion.  At the center of this passion is the experience of God endured by the godforsaken, God-cursed Christ.  Is this the end of all human and religious hope?  Or is it the beginning of the true hope, which has been born again and can no longer be shaken?  For me it is the beginning of true hope, because it is the beginning of a life which has death behind it and for which hell is no longer to be feared…Beneath the cross of Christ hope is born again out of the depths.  (Jurgen Moltmann)

Grace and Peace on Your Lenten Journey,

Shelli    

 

The Days That Come After

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth,the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.  Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness.God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. (Genesis 1: 1-5)

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased. (Mark 1: 9-11)

I saw a movie trailer for a new movie called "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close," which is apparently a story of a young boy's life after his father is killed in the 9/11 terrorist attacks.  The trailer ends with these words written on the screen:  "This is not a story about 9/11; it is a story about the days that come after."  I thought that was a very profound statement.  After all, do we sometimes focus so much on specific times and specific days that we lose what it means to live the rest of them?  In some way, living a life of faith means getting beyond endings.  Maybe it even means getting beyond beginnings.  It means doing something with all of them as part of the totality of life.

Yesterday we remembered the Baptism of Jesus and through that also remembered our own.  And our lectionary readings for the day included the first five verses of Genesis.  We all know that it is the beginning of the story of Creation, the beginning of life, the beginning of our own beginnings.  But, truth be told, it wasn't the beginning of EVERYTHING.  After all, it says that before it all, the earth did exist.  It's just that it was a formless, shapeless void.  Perhaps it was a chaotic mass of swirling, meaningless matter.  And then God Said.  Those are the most powerful words imaginable.  With one simple statement, God creates order, shape, life.   As God's Spirit sweeps over the waters, meaningless matter becomes earth.  It is not perfect; it is not the way it will be; it is the way it should be.  It is good.

But we know it doesn't stop there.  The days go one and God creates sky, and land, and seas.  Then, rather than directly creating (we sometimes gloss over this), God appoints the earth to start creating, to bring forth vegetation.  God calls Creation to create.  Then God creates suns, and moons, and animals, and us.  And then, as the pinnacle of Creation, God creates Sabbath rest, completion, a taste of eternity.  You see, it doesn't stop at "in the beginning". The days that come after are what makes Creation the way it was intended to be.

And in those days that Creation continued,  once again God's Spirit moved over the waters.  And this time, the heavens were torn apart (not opened, but violently ripped apart in a way that they could never go back together in the same way), and God's Spirit decended.  And once again, God spoke:  "You are my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."  Once again, God Said. It is good.

The days that come after are the days.  Beginnings and endings are only markers, turning points, crosswalks.  We are told to "remember our baptism and be thankful."  Truth be told, I don't remember mine.  I was just a baby.  But remembering is not about the beginning; it is about the days afterward.  So, as people of faith, what will we do with those days afterward?  Faith is not about baptism; it is about the days that come after.

What will you do with your days that come after?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

P.S.  As a programming note, I'm going to try to post a blog entry twice a week or so during this Season of Epiphany and then return to daily posts during our Lenten journey.  Thanks for staying with me!  Shelli

Beginning the Journey

Whew! It's over--this season of running and shopping and baking and wrapping and giving and getting and dressing and partying and, oh yeah, worshipping the Christ who has come!  Now we can go back to normal.  Whew!  It's over!  But what is the deal with all this light around?  Really?  So what was the point?  Truth be told,  as Christmas is the celebration of God's coming, Epiphany is the manifestation of our going.  Epiphany is the beginning of the journey.  So, in other words, don't get too comfortable!  There is work to do!

This season of Epiphany probably gets sort of glossed over.  I don't know, maybe we're tired.  Maybe we've eaten too much or run too much or just too much-ed.  Or maybe we just don't understand what it's about.  Epiphany is about making Jesus real, making the Christ child part of your life.  It is about doing beginning to travel down a road that you've never traveled before.

We know the story of the Wisemen, those learned ones who came to pay homage to the new king.  I suppose it was just a politically correct fulfillment of accepted etiquette.  There was a new king in town and they would greet him and give him the proper gifts and perhaps he would remember them in the future. (And in the meantime, perhaps the press would treat them kindly in this politically volatile season!) It was, after all, the proper and the smart thing to do. But instead, something happened.  Perhaps it was the star; perhaps it was the king; perhaps it was some sort of divine inspiration.  But, whatever it was, these wandering souls got it.  They saw a pathway that was different than the one that they were on, they saw where God was calling them to go.  And so they went home by another way.

Many of you have heard the Henry Van Dyke story of “The Other Wise Man”.  It is the story of a magi named Artaban, who waited impatiently for the star to shine so that he could travel with the other magi to see the new king. In fact, he had sold all of his possessions and bought three jewels—a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl—to give to the new baby king.  And, then, he finally saw what he had been waiting for as the dark eastern sky was filled with light.  He hurried to join his friends so that he could meet the king.  But on the way, he came upon the form of a man lying on the side of the road, motionless and dying.  He knew that if he stayed to help the dying stranger, he would miss meeting the Messiah.  So, with a heavy heart, he stayed and cared for the man until his strength returned.  And in return, the man, a Jew, blessed his travel to Bethlehem, where he told him the king had actually been born.  So, left behind by the others, Artaban was forced to sell the sapphire, buy a train of camels, and provisions for the journey. 

But he arrived there three days after the others had departed.  He entered a cottage and found a young mother singing her baby to sleep.  And quietly, the woman told him that the new king and his family had fled secretly in the night.  Suddenly there was a noise outside as Herod’s soldiers came for the child.  Artaban went to the doorway and met the soldiers, telling them that he was alone in the house.  When the soldier did not believe him, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his ruby and gave it to him.  The soldiers went away.  The woman blessed him.

Artaban spent his life searching for the king.  In all this world of anguish, he found many to help, but no one to worship.  He fed the hungry, clothed the naked, healed the sick, and comforted those in despair.  Thirty-three years later, he came for the last time to Jerusalem and was met with a flurry of activity as the city prepared to crucify Jesus of Nazareth.  On hearing this, Artaban knew that this was what he was called to do.  The pearl, the last of his riches, could be offered as ransom for the king’s life.  It was then that a young slave girl was dragged through the streets and threw herself at Artaban’s feet.  Save me, she begged, they are going to kill me.  He sadly took the pearl from his pocket.  It gleamed with radiance as he handed it to the girl so that she could buy her life.  The earth began to shake around him; the sky darkened; and it was then that a heavy tile hit Artaban on the head.  As he lay there, the slave girl bent over him to try to hear what he was saying.  It was then that she heard a faint voice from above—“verily I say unto thee,  Inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me.”  A calm radiance came over Artaban’s face and he breathed one last breath.  His journey had ended.  His treasures were accepted.  He had met the King many, many times.

Well, obviously, this is fiction.  There's no basis to it.  It's not Scriptural.  But the point is that we are the other wisemen.  We are the ones called to the work.  We are the ones that will meet the King.  Maybe we will see it to fruition; more than likely, we will not.  The point is that it's not about the end-result.  It's about the journey.  It's about making the Christ-child real in your lives.  It's about meeting the King. But more than that, it's about getting it! It's about making it real. It's about letting the Light illumine your life.

God came and the Light shined into our midst.

We are called to follow, to walk in the way illumined by the Light.
Let us follow the Light as it guides us on our journey.
Let us follow the Light as it leads us to Life.
So, in this season of Epiphany, make the newborn Christ real in your life!  There is work to be done!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli     

On the Other Side of the Manger

This past Wednesday night, I had the opportunity to lead an Advent discussion with members of St. Paul's Hispanic Congregation.  No, my Spanish has not had a sudden improvement.  We slowly went through the discussion and the questions and answers by translating back and forth between English and Spanish.  (Boy, I need to brush up on my Spanish!  The closest I could get is that I would sort of understand the "gist" of the question before Nataly or Mireya translated it for me!)  But I must admit that I also had to brush up on the subject matter.  I must have drawn the short straw or something because my subject matter was Joseph of Bethlehem, husband of Mary, earthly father-figure (for want of a better word) for Jesus.  Joseph?  What is there to say about Joseph?  I mean, Mary has a big moment with the top angel Gabriel, followed by the entire world that waits for her answer.  She even has a song!  And she remains a top character in the plot all the way to the bitter end.  But Joseph?  I think if I were Joseph, I would attempt to renegotiate my contract or something.  I mean, he doesn't even have a speaking role!  He has no voice!  So, really, what is there to say about Joseph?

We don't really know that much about him.  His family was probably of Bethlehem, even though he perhaps lived in Nazareth.  One might surmise that he was there for work and, yet, Nazareth wasn't exactly a thriving metropolis with numerous opportunities for a struggling carpenter.  (That probably meant that Joseph was a builder, the Greek techton, perhaps a stonemason.  After all, how much wood is there really in Israel?)  His and Mary's was probably an arranged marriage.  Some think that he might have been older.  OK, there's no real support for that, but whatever...But we know that he was righteous, probably a faithful "rule follower" of the Jewish law.  And he had plans.  He and Mary would marry and have children of their own.  He would have a son.  He would have the privilege of naming him.  But that was not to happen.  Instead, the lovely Mary goes and gets herself knocked up.  Think of what Joseph felt--betrayal, embarrassment, hurt, regret, confusion.  This was not the plan.

And then the dream.  Oh, that's dangerous.  Biblical dreams never seem to help one's plan.  Seldom does an instrument of God show up in one's dream to tell us how great we're directing our lives!  So, whether Joseph dreamed of an angel, or God, or his own conviction, he realized that in spite of all the rules that had been broken, in spite of the way that life had literally spit on his plan, he loved Mary.  He realized that he was called to be a part of this.  He realized that regardless of what the world told him to do--divorce her silently or accuse her publicly--he could not.  And so, there's Joseph on the other side of the manger.  The picture is in every Nativity image we have--the Blessed Mary, the mother of Christ looking adoringly at the infant in the manger.  And standing across from her in silent commitment is Joseph of Bethlehem.

This silent figure does not, I think, get his due.  After all, his entire life changed as much as Mary's.  His plans had to be shelved.  His rules were broken.  He was called to offer love and support and to raise this child, this child that, regardless of whether or not Joseph had a hand in the conception, would never really be his own.  The other side of the manger has no voice.  Instead, he was called to a silent commitment.  He was called to hold the child's hand, lead him from the manger, and then let him go.  And then Joseph drops out of sight.  He was there twelve years later at the temple when Jesus left his parents but chances are that Joseph was used to Jesus going down roads without him by that time.

Not all of us are meant to be the stars of the play. Some of us have no speaking roles.  In fact, some of us never even make it to the stage. But the story is never complete without each and every one of us.  And those that stand with no voice in silent commitment and humble devotion are the hardest workers of all.  The years of Jesus' life that were spent with Joseph are not documented in known Scripture.  They are not a part of our canon.  But Jesus had to have someone that took him by the hand and led him to the beginning.  The Gospel story did not just shoot out of thin air--someone was silently leading the way.  Someone early on had to make the conscious decision to silence the world and listen to God.  Someone had to stand on the other side of the manger.

I wish that the other night my Spanish had been not quite as rusty.  We were able to tell the story.  We were able to talk about what Joseph felt.  We were able to place the story in the proper context.  But there was an almost overwhelming silence.  When you're standing on the other side of the manger, it is only God that you hear.  When there's nothing to say, when you have no voice,  God still calls you to something bigger than you can possibly imagine.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of silence that you might hear the song of God.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

              

Open Season

"...who was conceived of the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary..."

We say those words every Sunday.  We stand and we look at the cross and we say with all our heart that we believe these words to be true.  Now, the "conceived" part we get--conceived, thought up, breathed into--Jesus was God's way after eons of breathing Creation into being of finally breathing the very Godself into the world.  The Divine has come to walk with us.  But this Virgin Mary thing?  What is that?  Jesus, born, born as a human, born as a baby.  As unromantic and "un-Nativity-like" as it may be, Jesus was fussy and colicy.  The Son of God, in all likelihood, messed up his first-century diaper.  (I've never been accused of being overly-reverent!)  Mary and Joseph were probably sleep-deprived.  And as time went on, Jesus, like all of us, had to learn to walk and talk and be.   He had to grow into who he was. But when's the last time you held a newborn baby?  When's the last time you held a baby that was only hours old? It's just like holding the entire hope of the world in your arms.  There are no preconceptions; there are no agendas; there is no one to impress or keep from disappointing.  There is only a pure and undefiled openness to what comes next, to what God holds.  There is only hope.  You can smell it.  Maybe it's the smell of birth.  But maybe it's the smell of the Divine.

So does it really matter?  We get so wrapped up in whether or not Mary's virginity was literally intact when Jesus was born.  Again, does it really matter?  Does it really matter when you are holding the hope of the world?  Does it really matter when you are holding the world's salvation in your arms?  Think about it.  Jesus was born, Son of God and Son of Humanity.  Jesus was born to Mary, the mother of the Salvation of the World.  Perhaps the translators of the writing by the writer known as Matthew had it right and Mary was a virgin in every sense of the word--pure, undefiled, and open to receive.  But, more importantly,  Mary was a virgin in the spiritual sense of the word--pure, undefiled, and open to receive what comes next, open to receive whatever God held for her life.  Mary opened her heart and her life that she might birth God into this world.

In this season of Advent, we are called to do the same.  14th century theologian, Meister Eckhart said that "we are all meant to be mothers of God, for God is always needing to be born."  We are all called to be virgin--pure, undefiled, and open to receive.  We are all called to birth God into this world.  How open are you to what comes next?  How open are you to what God holds for your life?  This is the open season.  This is the season when we shed all the preconceptions of what we think God is.  This is the season when we let go of our need to explain God's coming into the world and be open to what comes next.  So does it really matter?  You bet it does.  It is the Hope of the World that depends on it.
 
In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of being open to whatever it is God holds for you and birthing God into your life.  Be virgin.  Be a womb for the hope of the world.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli



      

ADVENT 3B: They

Lectionary Passage:  Isaiah 61: 1-4, (8-11)
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners;to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn;to provide for those who mourn in Zion— to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.  They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations.

Something has to change.  We have to try something different.  We cannot live like this anymore.  How many times have you heard that in the last few months?  And how many presidential candidates will rise to grace and fall to failure before we actually even elect the change agent we want for the next four years?  Truthfully, I think I'm getting a case of political whiplash.  And I'm trying hard to keep up.  But it's a little like trying to read a playbill in a dark theater for a REALLY slow-moving play.  How many scenes were there in this act?  How close are we to intermission?  Look, all we want is for someone to fix things.  Is that so hard?

Really, we're not that different from these former exiles who were trying desperately to reshape their community.  But it's gone on awhile.  It's time for something to happen.  Someone needs to fix things.  So standing in the midst of the ruins of what was once a thriving Jerusalem, the prophetic witness depicts the perfect reign of God, the time when all of Creation will be renewed and fulfilled.  This is the hope for the future.  The prophet here affirms a specific and individual call from God, a call to bring good news, to bind up, to proclaim liberty, to witness, and to comfort.  But then, in verse 3, the pronoun changes.  No longer is the prophet affirming an individual's call.  The calling is now to the plural "they".  It's not just the "me" that is the prophet; it is the "they" that is everyone.  The prophet is not called to "fix" things; the prophet is called to proclaim that all are called to this work.

All of us are part of what the Lord has planted and nourished and grown to bloom.  All of us are "they".  We are the ones that are called to become the new shoots sprouting to life.  We are the ones that are called to bring good news, to bind up, to proclaim liberty, to bring justice, to witness, and to comfort.  This Scripture may sound vaguely familiar to us for another reason.  In the fourth chapter of the Gospel According to the writer known as Luke, Jesus stands in the synagogue in his home temple in the midst of a world smarting with Roman occupation and cites these same words.  He acknowledges his own calling, he is commissioned to this work.  And he sets forth an agenda using the words of this prophet.  So, here we are reminded once again.  We are reminded what we as the people of Christ are called to do--to bring good news, to bind up, to proclaim liberty, to bring justice, to witness, to comfort, and to build the Kingdom of God.

In this Season of Advent, we look for the coming of God into this world.  We look toward the fullness of God's Kingdom.  But when we start beginning to look for someone to fix what is wrong in the meantime, we are reminded that we are they.  We are the ones for which we've been waiting.  We are the ones that while waiting with hopeful anticipation, we spend our time bringing good news, binding up, proclaiming liberty, bringing justice, witnessing, comforting, and building the Kingdom of God.  So put down the playbill and get busy.



In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of realizing that you are the one for which you've been waiting.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

How Can This Be?

We are told over and over in the Scriptures "do not be afraid" or "be not afraid" or "do not fear".  Well, in my humble experience of the Bible, it strike me that when God or an angel or some other instrument uses these words, one should be extremely concerned!  After all, God is preparing you for something really big.  The world as you know it will start shaking and quaking and the foundation that you've so carefully built for yourself will become mere quicksand.  Nothing will ever be the same again.

But of all the "be not afraids" in the Bible, surely the one to a young Galilean girl at the beginning of what we now call the "first century" takes the cake!  "Excuse Me, Mary, I have something for you to do.  I'd like you to give birth to a son even though you haven't married Joseph yet and even though none of your family or your friends or your community will understand it and even though the world will struggle with this birth so much that it will initially not end well, and, oh yeah, there's one other small little detail...you will be essentially birthing the salvation of the world!  But, do not be afraid!  So, let me know what you think!"  I think Mary's initial response (as its translated in our Scriptures) is one of the most profound phrases ever:  "How can this be?" It is the question of faith.  Because, you see, it CAN'T be--not without God and, interestingly enough, not EVEN without Mary.

But in Mary's defense, she had other preconceptions working against her. (Oh...so we're not the only ones with that problem!)   There is a folktale that is told in the Book of Tobit (you'll find it in the Apocrypha) that tells of a jealous angel who would appear on a bride's wedding night each time she married and killed her bridegroom.  This story, of course, was probably part of the culture in which Mary lived.  So, don't be afraid?  Good grief...she was terrified!  But she listens to the reassurance that she is given and take it "under advisement".

And then God waits...(boy, God's good at waiting--maybe THAT'S part of the lesson!)...God waits patiently for Mary to respond.  The world hangs suspended if only for a time, its very salvation teetering on the brink of its demise.  Oh, sure, if Mary said no, God could have gone to someone else.  God could have found SOMEONE to birth the salvation of the world.  But it wouldn't have been the same.  After all, the Divine did not just plunk a far-removed piece of the Godself into a womb.  Our understanding is that, yes, the Christ was fully Divine; but Jesus was "born of a woman", fully human and, as a human, Jesus carried Mary's unique and specific DNA with him.  Mary was not just a container through which God came into this little world.  Mary's DNA, Mary's response, Mary's "how can this be?", Mary's "yes" is all through the salvation of the world.

So, how can this be?  I do believe in the omnipotence of God.  But I also believe that God, in God's infinite wisdom, chose to give up part of that power.  It's called free will.  God gave a piece of the Godself to each of us that we might choose to respond in faith.  How can this be?  Certainly not without God and not even without us.  Our faith journey is a partnership with God, a dance between the human and the Divine.  And so God waits...How can this be?...Only if you respond.  Remember, Mary said "yes" and the Divine began to spill in to the womb of the world.  Salvation began. 

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of responding to the God that calls you to birth part of the earth's salvation.  How can this be?  I don't know...it's your calling!  What is your response?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

WALK TO JERUSALEM: Called to this Work

Scripture Text:  John 1: 1-4, 29-42
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people...The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.” The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o”clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).

The writer of John's version of the Gospel According to Jesus Christ presents this as a sort of "prelude" to Jesus' ministry.  This passage begins by celebrating Jesus' origins, tying them back to the very beginning of Creation, tying them back to the Creator of us all.  Then we are given a witness by John the Baptist attesting to who Jesus is, reminding us that this Jesus Christ is the one whose coming was announced by the angel, the one who was born years before in that dark grotto in Bethlehem, the one who he himself had baptized and who God's Spirit had entered.  This was the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  Now it was time to begin the work.  This was Jesus' calling to ministry.  And what did he do first?  He called others, saying, "Come and see...come and see what you haven't seen before."
 
Now I know that often when we talk about “calls” from God, many of us squirm in our seats a little. Calls are something that a lot of people limit to clergy. But as early as the Hebrew Scriptures, we read of a qara, which means to call, call out, recite, read, cry out, proclaim, or name. The word was used both as a summons or a general call as well as a specific election, the calling of someone to do a specific task that needed to be done. And, here’s the point—the call is to everyone. It is that voice, sometimes silenced by our busyness and our preconceptions, that is buried deep within our being. It is that voice that calls us to be who God created us to be.  But you will notice that God doesn’t just throw a blanket over humanity to see who will pick it up. And nowhere in the Bible does God really ask and wait for volunteers. The call to each of us is very unique and specific. God calls us to our own part of God's creation, our own part of the Kingdom of God that is ours to build.  God calls us to walk this road to Jerusalem.

Note here that two disciples follow Jesus as a direct result of John’s witness. John showed them the light. And then two others are called. One is named Andrew we are told, who then gathers his brother Simon Peter. Both become disciples. But the other one that is called is unidentified here. We are not clear who this is. This anonymity is reflective of the writer’s understanding of discipleship as a broader vision. (In essence, the “other disciple” is us!) Discipleship is meant for all of us. Yes, all of us! And when Jesus calls us to follow, the answer is always “come and see”. You have to come and see for yourself. God calls, God names, and God calls each of us by name. Just, come and see!

So how do we respond? What does it mean to respond to our call from God? What does that look like? That calling is to each of us to become the part of God’s Creation that we are called to be. It is at the very center of who we are as followers of Christ. And nowhere in the Scriptures do we read of calls from God like "Hey, if you're not too busy, on your way home from work, could you feed some homeless people?"  or "Listen, I don't want you to inconvenience yourself, but when you have time, could you speak out against injustices in this world?" or (my favorite!) "OK, once you've "made it", once you have all of the money that you need to be secure and you are completely adept at what I'm calling you to do, then, very carefully, so as not to make yourself uncomfortable, could you follow me?"  God does not call perfect people.  God calls us. 

The “called” life is one of tensions and convergences and wonderful coincidences that God melds together into a wonderful journey of being.  It seems that God is continually calling us into places and times that we’ve never been, constantly empowering us to push the limits of our “comfort zones”, to embark on a larger and more all-encompassing journey toward a oneness with God.  It seems that God always calls us beyond where we are and beyond where we’ve been, not to the places that are planted and built and paved over with our preconceptions and biases but, rather, to places in the wilds of our lives with some vision of a faint pathway that we must pave and on which we must trudge ahead.  Thomas Merton says that “there is in all visible things…a hidden wholeness.”[i]  It is the image of God in each one of us that must be reclaimed and nurtured so that we might take part in bringing about the fullness of Creation, in bringing the Reign of God into its fullness.  Perhaps, then, the meaning of calling is not one in which we launch out and pursue a new life but is instead one that brings us to the center of our own life, one that brings us home, back to the womb, back to God.  T.S. Eliot says that “the end of all our exploring… will be to arrive where we started…and know the place for the first time.”[ii] 

So, back to the story.  This is the beginning of Jesus' ministry.  This is the beginning of his own walk and his own work.  We don't usually think of Jesus being "called".  We're more comfortable just imagining him already there, as if he dropped into our lives already formed.  But that's not the way it works.  God did not just plunk down into our human existence without any connection; rather, God in Jesus inserted the Divine Calling into a long, successive line of called ones--some who were ready and some who were not, some who went willingly to do what they were asked to do, and others who fought the fight of their lives to keep it from happening and lived to tell the tale of encountering God--and it keeps going.  So Jesus had to be called.  It's what it's about.  Jesus was formed and then called and then called others who called others who called others...well, you get the drift!  And one way or another, they responded.  Jesus was not the lone ranger.  And those that he called went.  They were nothing special--just ordinary people like you and me.  They were ordinary people asked to take on the work of discipleship and they ended up with a life that they never could have foreseen or imagined.  It is in the ordinariness of our lives that God calls us and asks us to join in the work, to join with Jesus Christ in this work of ministry, to walk with Jesus on this walk to Jerusalem.  Come and see!  It will be magnificent!  And the work has begun...

So, in this Lenten season, listen for where God is calling you and then...come and see!  Because that is the way to Jerusalem...

Grace and Peace,

Shelli 

---

[i] Wayne Mueller, How Then Shall We Live?  Four Simple Questions that Reveal the Beauty and Meaning of our Lives, (New York, NY:  Bantam Books, 1996), 3

[ii] T.S. Eliot in Pilgrim Souls: An Anthology of Spiritual Autobiographies, ed. by Amy Mandelker and Elizabeth Powers (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1999), 146

Dancing With the Disciples

You know how you do those things that aren't that terrible but that you would rather most people not know--like (a.) watching soap operas, (b.) eating a whole pint of ice cream, (c.) singing along to The Sound of Music, or (d.) all of the above?  Yes, my answer is, sadly, "(d.)" and that's probably not all of the stupid things that I do!  So as long as we're inviting true confessions, I have to admit that I love Dancing With the Stars.  I know it's stupid.  But I love dancing and, perhaps even more than that, I like watching people that have never danced before, that are scared to death, that are sure that they are the next ones to be voted off by ten or so million of their closest friends, come completely out of themself and have the courage to feel a rhythm that they've never felt before.

I pray for all of us that we can do that this Lenten season.  No, not dance with one of the dance pros but, rather, to have the courage to feel a rhythm that we've never allowed ourselves to feel before. What would it take to allow ourselves to do that?  What would it take to put aside all of our preconceived ideas, needless inhibitions, and carefully laid plans and just dance?  What would it take for us to finally feel that rhythm of God that runs through us all and truly dance like no one is watching?  You know, I think that one reason my guilty pleasure "Dancing" show is so popular is not that people like to watch others fail (and sometimes even fall!), but that we admire someone who can get out of their element, who can step out of their role that they are "supposed" to live in their life.  Deep down, I am convinced, we all dream of that.  We all know that we'd be better for it.  We all know that there is a dance in our lives that we have yet to dance.  Part of what we're called to do during this season is do just that--to let go of what we think we should be doing and listen for that rhythm that runs through each of our lives, the rhythm of God calling us to dance whether or not we think we've practiced enough.

When Jesus called the disciples, one by one, I'm pretty clear that none of them were practicing dancing in their room when everyone thought they were asleep.  The truth is, they were anything but prepared.  (Hence the continual competition to be the "favorite" and to make sure they understood!)  They had planned something else for their lives--something reasonable, something realistic, something sane.  But then the beat began and they couldn't help themselves.  They could only dance.  I want to be like that.  I want to dance with the disciples.

I was watching Dancing With the Stars last night.  (Well, gee, I guess there's no hiding that now so why bother anymore!)  In one of the pre-recorded "practices", one of the "pros" told one of the "stars" that the reason he couldn't do the Jive is because he was thinking too much.  She said that he needed to feel it and follow it.  Maybe that's our problem:  We're trying to think too much, trying to reason out what God is calling us to do, trying to figure out how to fit it into our carefully-planned life.  The music has already started.  We need to start dancing!

Do you remember the T-Mobile Dance in Liverpool Station, UK about two years ago?  Look at it at: T-Mobile Dance and THEN, go to how it was made: The Making of the T-Mobile Dance.  Enough said...I guess life really is for sharing!  Perhaps we disciples could take some lessons!

"You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching, Love like you'll never be hurt, Sing like there's nobody listening, And live like it's heaven on earth."  (William W. Purkey)

So, in this Lenten season, dance to the music that's been there all along and live like it's heaven on earth.  Who's stopping you?  What are you hiding?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 4A: You're the One!

Lectionary Text:  1 Samuel 16: 1-13
The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you grieve over Saul? I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out; I will send you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have provided for myself a king among his sons.” Samuel said, “How can I go? If Saul hears of it, he will kill me.” And the Lord said, “Take a heifer with you, and say, ‘I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.’ Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what you shall do; and you shall anoint for me the one whom I name to you.” Samuel did what the Lord commanded, and came to Bethlehem. The elders of the city came to meet him trembling, and said, “Do you come peaceably?” He said, “Peaceably; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord; sanctify yourselves and come with me to the sacrifice.” And he sanctified Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice. When they came, he looked on Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed is now before the Lord.” But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. He said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Then Jesse made Shammah pass by. And he said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Jesse made seven of his sons pass before Samuel, and Samuel said to Jesse, “The Lord has not chosen any of these.” Samuel said to Jesse, “Are all your sons here?” And he said, “There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.” And Samuel said to Jesse, “Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here.” He sent and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome. The Lord said, “Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.” Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward. Samuel then set out and went to Ramah.

Once again, God has called the most unlikely, the most unexpected, and the most unprepared candidate to do God's work.  There seems to be a pattern here.  This time, God's choice is a young, but apparently good-looking, shepherd, an eighth son, from the village of Bethlehem, and from a family with no real pedigree or appropriate ancestry at all.  And with this person, God lays the road for the hope of the world.  No pressure there!  But the unlikeliness doesn't stop there.  What about Samuel? God called him to go to Jesse the Bethlehemite and anoint a new king. Well, I’m pretty sure that Saul (i.e, the King!) would not have been impressed with that had he found out. What if Samuel had just said, “You know, God, I would really rather not. That just doesn’t work into my plan.”?

In this Lenten season, what would change about our journey if we knew where we would end up, if we thought that we might end up in a place that we didn’t plan? And what would change about our life if we knew how it was all going to turn out? I mean, think about it…the boy David is out in the field just minding his own business and doing what probably generations of family members before him had done. He sees his brothers go inside one by one, probably wandering what in the world is going on. Finally, he is called in. “You’re the one!” “What do you mean I’m the one?” he probably asked in his teen-age sarcasm. “What in the world are you talking about? Don’t I even get a choice?” “Not so much.” And so David was anointed. “You’re the one!”

What would have happened if David has just turned and walked away? Well, I’m pretty sure that God would have found someone else, but the road would have turned away from where it was. It would have been a good road, a life-filled road, a road that would have gotten us where we needed to be. But it wouldn’t have been the road that God envisioned it to be.  We know how it all turned out. David started out by playing the supposed evil out of Saul with his lyre. He ultimately became a great king and generations later, a child was brought forth into the world, descended from David. The child grew and became himself anointed—this time not for lyre-playing or earthly kingship but as Messiah, as Savior, as Emmanuel, God-Incarnate. And in turn, God then anoints the ones who are to fall in line and follow him. “You’re the one”.

Do we even get a choice, you ask? Sure, you get a choice. You can close yourself off and try your best to hold on to what is really not yours anyway or you can walk forward into life as the one anointed to build the specific part of God’s Kingdom that is yours. We are all called to different roads in different ways. But the calling is specifically yours. And in the midst of it, there is a choice between death and life. Is there a choice? Not so much! Seeing the way to walk is not necessarily about seeing where the road is going. So just keep walking and enjoy the scenery along the way!

So, on this Lenten journey, look for the unexpected and walk toward it!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

LENT 2A: Parshas Lech Lecha

LECTIONARY PASSAGE:  Genesis 12: 1-4a
Now the Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” So Abram went, as the Lord had told him; and Lot went with him.

It means "to be a blessing", parshas lech lecha.  This passage begins what is often called the Patriarchal history of Genesis. All of a sudden the camera zooms into a single family of nomads in a small town in Mesopotamia and, finally, to a single individual.  This is where the history of Israel begins.  The truth is, Abram never saw his future.  And yet his response shaped it.  Abram is chosen to be the one through whom God’s blessing is showered upon the whole world. But in order for this to happen, Abram is told to leave what he knows, to in effect sever ties and go to a new place. (We at this point immediately jump to what that would mean for us--to leave our home, our family, our life.  What, we imagine, a great act of faith!) But remember that Abram’s family was nomadic. They probably didn’t really have a concept of home anyway. And there really wasn’t a family, to speak of—Abram had probably long ago outlived his parents and he had no children. So what was he leaving? Maybe God was calling him away from hopelessness and loneliness and finally showing him purpose, showing him home.


And the Lord promises that Abram will not be alone. And, more than that, God promises blessing. No longer is this just one person or one family; it is the conduit to God showering blessing throughout the world.
Abram is called to be a blessing, the Hebrew Parshas Lech Lecha. It becomes an integral part of the Genesis story and is used eighty-eight times in the book. A blessing is a gift. It involves every sphere of existence. It is more than what we 21st century hearers have allowed it to be. It is not payment for a life well-lived. “Being blessed” is being recreated. (For Abram, this meant moving from a life of nomadic purposelessness to being the “father of a great nation” and, thousands of years later, the patriarch of three world religions.) It takes time. I think to be a blessing means that one enters the story. God calls, God promises, and God walks with us. That is how God is revealed. But the blessing doesn’t come and the blessing doesn’t continue unless one enters the story. God calls, God promises, and God blesses.

Blessing is one of the ways that God makes the presence of God known here and now.  (Joan Chittister)

So, go and be a blessing!
 
Grace and Peace,
 
Shelli

Unless You Repent...

This Week's Lectionary Gospel Passage:  Luke 13: 1-9
At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.” Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’” (NRSV)

Hmmm!  Maybe we should try the Psalm.  They're usually a little more friendly, not quite as prickly to the touch, right?  The truth is, we do not like to be threatened and this sounds very threatening.  We'd rather listen to the soothing melodies of assurance and unconditional love and grace.  Repentance is just too stressful, just too harsh and unyielding.  But, unless you repent...
 
I think the problem is that we look at repentance as something negative.  We envision repentance as some sort of self-denial.  We think that we can no longer be who we are but instead we must become some sort of stamped-out "stepford" Christian in order to "measure up" to Jesus Christ.  To quote the old, much-overused, and oft-abused slogan "What Would Jesus Do?" (WWJD), we use Christ as some sort of divine measuring stick of what is good and what is evil, what is right and what is immoral, and, more importantly, what is it that would win us favor and life with God?  So, what would Jesus do?  Well, I'm convinced that he'd throw that rot out with that batch of bad figs!  Because repentance is not negative.  It does not mean losing who you are.  It means discovering the wonder of who you are meant to be.
 
The Greek word that is usually translated as "repentance" is metanoia.    In Classical Greek, it meant to change one's mind, one's heart, one's soul, one's life.  Penance was not a part of it.  It simply meant to follow a different road.  I think that IS what Jesus would do.  Why is that so difficult for us?  Is the road that we're on so grand?  For most of us, probably not.  It is just comfortably familiar.  But don't we deserve more than comfortable?  We are told of a new life, a new creation, an existence of perfect harmony and shalom.  I don't think that's necessarily limited to our next life, or heaven, or the other side of the rainbow, or however you envision it.  I think it's down that road.  But...unless you repent...unless you change course, let go of the life that you've created, and listen to the road that beckons before you, you will remain comfortable and secure and right where you are. And then you will die! But, oh, what you will miss!
 
The road ahead looks dark now and even a little bleak.  The skies are blackening and there's this awful hammering of metal against wood up ahead.  There is shouting and chaos.  It IS tempting to pull the covers over our head and just stay in for the day.  But just beyond that hill, just ahead, through those rocks and trees, there is a tiny flicker of light.  Let us go and see this thing that has happened.  Frederick Buechner says, "To repent is to come to your senses. It is not so much something you do as something that happens. True repentance spends less time looking at the past and saying, “I’m sorry,” than to the future and saying, “Wow!” (Buechner, Wishful Thinking, 79)  But, unless you repent...
 
So, repent and believe the Gospel!
 
Shelli

Picture: Israel (February, 2010)