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It was November 1999.  Lynne and I and the kids were shopping at Walmart when we came across a roadshow display and a salesperson who knew a sucker when she saw one (that would be me).  She was barking a product called the Quick Cut 2000.  The name alone drew me in.  This food processing device could quickly and effortlessly chop up vegetables simply by loading up the bowl and turning the crank on top.  No power needed, and very few moving parts meant it would surely last forever!  Suddenly I had dreams of all the salsa we would be enjoying made from fresh veggies we would of course have recently purchased at a Farmers Market.  What a vision.  I was sold. Had it not been for what surely had to be the intervention of God, I would have purchased one for family members for Christmas.  Lynne just shook her head.  She knew how this was going to play out, but it didn’t cost much, so she didn’t put up much resistance.

     I think I used it once.  We stored it somewhere in our kitchen for several years, and I eventually sold it to some other sucker at our garage sale, but for much less than I paid, that’s for sure.  As I recall that guy’s wife was rolling her eyes just like Lynne did years before...

     Sometimes we make decisions based on what we think we want only to find out later that it was a mistake. 

     The story of the people of Israel records this perennial process over hundreds of years.  There would be moments of clarity when everyone agreed on what kind of people they were meant to be as those led by God only to be followed by stories of pain and destruction caused by their veering off course.  God was always quick to pick them up, dust them off, and help them get back on their way, but the mistakes always came with a price, which was often very high.

     Part of the vision of following God as their leader was that they would not be led by a king.  There would be judges anointed for the hardest cases, but for the most part the idea was that everyone would be guided by shalom to create shalom in community. People would look after each other and treat each other as brothers and sisters.  It was undoubtedly a messy process, but it offered the benefit of not being ruled by a king who might be susceptible to greed, power, lust, etc.  Over time, however, Israel found themselves walking down the aisle at Walmart only to discover a display for “Kings”.  Abandoning their better judgment, they just had to have one:

     All the elders of Israel got together and confronted Samuel at Ramah. They presented their case: “Look, you’re an old man, and your sons aren’t following in your footsteps. Here’s what we want you to do: Appoint a king to rule us, just like everybody else.”

     When Samuel heard their demand—“Give us a king to rule us!”—he was crushed. How awful! Samuel prayed to GOD.

     GOD answered Samuel, “Go ahead and do what they’re asking. They are not rejecting you. They’ve rejected me as their King. From the day I brought them out of Egypt until this very day they’ve been behaving like this, leaving me for other gods. And now they’re doing it to you. So let them have their own way. But warn them of what they’re in for. Tell them the way kings operate, just what they’re likely to get from a king.” – 1 Samuel 8:4-9 MSG

     A king they got.  Saul was tall, dark, and handsome, and that was about it.  He was a lousy king.  All but a handful of Israel’s kings were lousy, leading them to war, lining their pockets, not taking God seriously, with grave consequences every single time.  Yet God would always be gracious and help them get back on their feet and on their way toward shalom.

     There are other forms of leadership than royalty, of course.  In Jesus’ day, Israel was under the Roman Empire’s oppressive thumb.  To keep the peace, Rome allowed Jewish leaders to keep up their cultic religious practices, with the Chief Priest holding rank over the rest.  With power often comes corruption, and the Chief Priests were no exception.  The elite Jewish leadership became wealthy from the offerings from the mostly extremely poor Jewish people they “served.”  And, of course, they did everything they could to protect and maintain their power.  When word came to them that a man named Jesus was challenging their interpretation of scriptures as well as their demands and ethics, they sent some of their own to learn more and deal with him as necessary:

     Jesus came home and, as usual, a crowd gathered—so many making demands on him that there wasn’t even time to eat. His friends heard what was going on and went to rescue him, by force if necessary. They suspected he was believing his own press.

     The religion scholars from Jerusalem came down spreading rumors that he was working black magic, using devil tricks to impress them with spiritual power. Jesus confronted their slander with a story: “Does it make sense to send a devil to catch a devil, to use Satan to get rid of Satan? A constantly squabbling family disintegrates. If Satan were fighting Satan, there soon wouldn’t be any Satan left. Do you think it’s possible in broad daylight to enter the house of an awake, able-bodied man, and walk off with his possessions unless you tie him up first? Tie him up, though, and you can clean him out. – Mark 3:20-27 MSG

     In this scene we are seeing the consequences of choosing against shalom on the part of the Jewish leadership – the people were desperate. While the imagery of demons and such may seem antiquated, Matthew Myer Boulton (SALT Project) reminds us that it may not be as foreign as one might imagine:

     Any number of death-dealing forces today are often experienced as "possession" or being "caught up" in dynamics that far exceed our intentions or control. Think of how addiction overwhelms individuals and families; how racism shape-shifts over time between explicit and implicit forms; how anger consumes; how envy devours; how lies and conspiracies distort; or how sexism creates pervasive atmospheres of degradation. We may or may not call addiction or racism or lies or the objectification of women “demons,” but they are most certainly “demonic.” They move through the world as though by a kind of cunning. They seem to resist our best attempts to overcome them. And as we contend with them, the experience can be less like figuring out an equation and more like wrestling with a beast...

     Jesus has come into the world as a healing liberator in direct, authoritative opposition to the death-dealing forces of evil and ruin in the world.

     We are also seeing God’s response: Jesus was all about restoring shalom for one and all.  Eventually, the Jewish leadership got their way and killed Jesus.  Yet the vision remained and prospered as his disciples picked up the mantle and followed.  They were living into what it meant to be followers of Jesus. 

     The pattern of being lured into some decision only to regret it later is still with us in our time.  It will always be with us. In the Jewish stories of their beginning, they give their take on this so that everyone who would learn the story would become wise to it.  Adam and Eve in a lush garden. Forbidden fruit.  Temptation.  Blowing it.  Hiding. Blaming. Denying. And then owning up. Here we catch up after the infamous bites had been “enjoyed.” (Genesis 3:8-13 MSG):

     When they heard the sound of GOD strolling in the garden in the evening breeze, the Man and his Wife hid in the trees of the garden, hid from GOD.

     GOD called to the Man: “Where are you?”

     He said, “I heard you in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked. And I hid.”

GOD said, “Who told you that you were naked? Did you eat from that tree I told you not to eat from?”

     The Man said, “The Woman you gave me as a companion, she gave me fruit from the tree, and, yes, I ate it.”

     GOD said to the Woman, “What is this that you’ve done?”

     “The serpent seduced me,” she said, “and I ate.”

     “The German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer who was executed by the Nazis, once argued that the decisive, heart-breaking “fall” away from God isn’t the point in the story when humanity eats the forbidden fruit, but rather the moment when they hide from God afterwards, in effect turning away from their Creator and at the same time from their true identity (Boulton).”  Adam and Eve are human indeed, and eventually on the path to maturing.  Before owning up to their personal complicity in the offense, they each blame someone else.  Adam blames Eve’s excellent sales-pitching.  Eve blames the seductive snake.  That’s not maturity, that’s just classic evasion.  The mature part is when they admitted that they ate it.  They weren’t force-fed. They ate.  “I ate” is a great start on the path to shalom.  Follow up will include lots of introspective questions aimed at understanding the complexity of the dynamics that led the possibility of taking a bite in the first place.  What was happening in us that contributed toward our abandoning the path of shalom? That’s the question we must ask if we should ever hope to avoid finding ourselves in the same situation again.

     Sometimes the stakes aren’t very high.  My $20 “Quick Cut 2000” didn’t harm our financial future or hurt much more than my pride.  But some decisions away from shalom have devastating results to ourselves, our relationships, our families, our communities, our nation, and our entire world.  Taking our decisions seriously is very much connected to our faith.  As Boulton notes:

     “Follow me” means following Jesus into the fray, into the shadows, into the house of menace itself. He means follow him into the good-and-difficult work of building up from ruins, of helping to free the captives, of living with dignified responsibility — in short, the work of salvation (health!) in our hearts, in our homes, and in our neighborhoods. The good news of the Gospel is that this life-giving mission is already underway, and God calls us to take part, each in our own way, in the beautiful struggle of restoration.

     Today, what do you sense it means follow Jesus in terms or your personal life?  Your key relationships? Your family system? Your community? Your country? Your world?

Commentary from The SALT Project

Third Week after Pentecost (Year B): Mark 3:20-35 and Genesis 3:8-15

Big Picture:

1) This week the season of Ordinary Time (sometimes called the “Season after Pentecost”) begins in earnest, a period of nearly six months during which the Gospel of Mark (and occasionally John) will be our guide through the story of Jesus’ ministry. This is the first of seven weeks in a row working our way through seven chronologically selected passages in Mark.

2) Jesus’ ministry is just getting up and running — and tensions are already palpable. Crowds of people seeking healing and wisdom are pursuing and pressing in on him, so much so that “he could no longer go into a town openly” (Mark 1:45). The atmosphere is a hectic mix of devotion and desperation: people from Idumea (Mark 3:8), for example, would have had to have traveled from 150 miles away! Perhaps in part because of this frenzy, local authorities are already plotting to discredit or destroy Jesus (Mark 3:6), and even members of his own family now doubt his sanity, and have come to restrain him.

3) Mark’s world is full of shadows and menace, riddled with demons who distort creation and overwhelm hearts and minds. Human beings are cast as porous creatures open to spiritual influences: Jesus himself is driven deep into the desert by the Holy Spirit, and many people are possessed by unholy ones. On first glance, this way of understanding the world can seem archaic and strange. But after all, when we read the Bible, we engage ancient texts from halfway around the world; it's only natural that they’ll feel cross-cultural and unfamiliar at first. Think of this as a kind of travel (including time travel!). The opportunity is to stay open to how another way of thinking and living can shed new light on our own.

4) For example, any number of death-dealing forces today are often experienced as "possession" or being "caught up" in dynamics that far exceed our intentions or control. Think of how addiction overwhelms individuals and families; how racism shape-shifts over time between explicit and implicit forms; how anger consumes; how envy devours; how lies and conspiracies distort; or how sexism creates pervasive atmospheres of degradation. We may or may not call addiction or racism or lies or the objectification of women “demons,” but they are most certainly “demonic.” They move through the world as though by a kind of cunning. They seem to resist our best attempts to overcome them. And as we contend with them, the experience can be less like figuring out an equation and more like wrestling with a beast.

5) The story of humanity’s “fall” into sin (Genesis 2-4) is often framed as a story of disobedience, of Adam and Eve eating a forbidden fruit. And so it is — but it’s also a great deal more than that. The story begins with humanity’s creation and call, including a portrait of remarkable intimacy between God and humankind; then human anxiety arises, along with ambiguity, mistrust, and that infamous meal; and then comes this week’s passage, an account of the first couple’s subsequent encounter with God in the garden, full of evasion, blame, and denial. Only by attending to each of these stages in the story (culminating in the final stage, humanity’s turn to violence in Genesis 4) can we fully explore sin’s breadth and depth in human life. And that exploration lays the groundwork for exploring salvation’s corresponding breadth and depth, the good news declared in the Gospel.

Scripture:

1) Mark has mentioned crowds at Jesus’ house before (Mark 2:1-12), but this throng seems even more intense, so packed in shoulder-to-shoulder that “they could not even eat” (Mark 3:20). Jesus’ family has come to restrain him, apparently concerned about rumors that he has “gone out of his mind” — a phrase that likely refers to extreme fervor or spirit possession.

2) Scribes from Jerusalem (that is, experts in religious law) pick up on this same idea, raising the stakes into a devastating charge: not only is he possessed, they declare, he’s possessed by “the ruler of demons” — and that’s why the demons listen to him! Jesus responds with a pithy analogy: a house divided cannot stand. He’s no member of Satan’s house; instead, he’s an intruder breaking into it. His ability to cast out demons demonstrates that he has bound “the strong man” himself, and so that the spirit indwelling Jesus — “the Holy Spirit” — opposes Satan outright (Mark 3:27-30). Mark frames all of this as speaking in “parables” or figures, but the overall message is clear: Jesus has come into the world as a healing liberator in direct, authoritative opposition to the death-dealing forces of evil and ruin in the world.

3) What’s more, Jesus pushes back directly against his critics: to reject the Holy Spirit as an “unclean spirit” — indeed as Beelzebul, “the ruler of demons” — is consummate blasphemy, a point Jesus underlines by calling it “an eternal sin,” a stunning, enigmatic phrase. For Mark’s storytelling purposes, this exchange puts Jesus’ mission into sharp relief: accused of being in league with death-dealing forces, he’s actually at work defeating them, all for the sake of the world’s salvation (from the Latin salvus, “health”).

4) Those who seek to follow Jesus, then, can only do so by taking part in this life-giving mission as well. His “family” will be constituted not by those who seek to “restrain” his healing work, he insists, but rather by “whoever does the will of God” (Mark 3:21,35). Neither kinship nor doctrine will do: what matters most is participating in God's mission of healing, hope, and restoration.

5) In the Genesis story, the first human beings, at the serpent’s suggestion, have just disobeyed God — and now they make matters even worse. Hearing God approaching in the garden, they hide, resulting in God’s question, “Where are you?” As the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber and others have argued, the question isn’t for God’s benefit (since God knows very well where they are) but rather for humanity’s benefit: like its counterpart, “Where is your brother Abel?” (Gen 4:9), the question is a call for the first couple to reorient themselves, to regain their bearings — for they have lost their way.

6) But instead up stepping up into dignified responsibility, the first humans fall further into blame, evasion, and denial — three good synonyms for sin (“sin-onyms”?). Loss compounds loss. Adam blames both God and his wife (You gave me this woman, and she gave me the fruit!), and the woman blames the serpent (He tricked me!). By failing to take responsibility for their actions (another good definition of sin), they alienate themselves even farther from God, from one another, and from their own individual integrity. Now they will physically leave the garden — but their self-imposed exile has already begun, from God and from each other.

Takeaways:

1) Jesus’ ministry involves courage and confrontation — not for its own sake, but rather for the sake of the health and life of the world. And so this week is a perfect time to challenge ourselves, as individuals and as congregations: How can we more boldly and effectively stand against the world’s death-dealing forces, in ourselves and in our neighborhoods? Are we following Jesus, filled with the Spirit, into the fray? Where is “the strong man” still at work today, and how are we called to take part in God’s mission of hope, healing, and liberation? In short, how are we “doing the will of God,” not just thinking about it or talking about it, and thereby becoming Jesus’ “brother and sister and mother” (Mark 3:35)?

2) These are not idle questions. This passage in Mark is also a candid testimony to the difficulties of ministry and discipleship: the needs of the world may overwhelm; authorities may oppose the work of restoration; and even our families (sometimes especially our families) may “restrain” rather than encourage. These are extremely delicate topics, and should be explored with care; Mark doesn’t seek to justify recklessness! But on the other hand, naming the difficulties of discipleship can be cathartic, affirming, and ultimately heartening. The struggle is real, as are the stakes — and naming the struggle is an important first step toward supporting each other through it.

3) Taken together, this week’s passages provide an opportunity to reflect on the nature of sin and salvation. Sin can mean being “caught up” — personally or collectively — in dynamics of ruin (addiction, racism, anger, envy, lies, degradation, and so on). And it also can mean being caught up in patterns of denial and recrimination, blaming God or others rather than taking responsibility with dignity and grace. The German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was executed by the Nazis, once argued that the decisive, heart-breaking “fall” away from God isn’t the point in the story when humanity eats the forbidden fruit, but rather the moment when they hide from God afterwards, in effect turning away from their Creator and at the same time from their true identity. “Where are you, Humanity?” (The Hebrew word, ‘adam, means “humanity.”) From this angle, “sin” may be framed as less about “disobedience” and more about estrangement and alienation, a debilitating separation from God and from our true selves that requires healing and reconciliation.

4) The interdependent concepts of “sin” and “salvation” are foundational for Christian life, and there’s a wide range of scriptural and theological approaches for understanding them — much wider, it turns out, than many realize. Disobedience-Forgiveness is one way of framing the Sin-Salvation relationship, but there are others: Affliction-Healing, for example, as these early chapters of Mark would suggest; or Separation-Reconciliation, as Genesis 3 would have it. How we conceive this crucial pair of ideas will move our thoughts and practices in quite different directions — and most important of all, our participation in God’s mission will be enriched accordingly.

5) For Mark, when Jesus says, “Follow me,” he means follow him into the fray, into the shadows, into the house of menace itself. He means follow him into the good-and-difficult work of building up from ruins, of helping to free the captives, of living with dignified responsibility — in short, the work of salvation (health!) in our hearts, in our homes, and in our neighborhoods. The good news of the Gospel is that this life-giving mission is already underway, and God calls us to take part, each in our own way, in the beautiful struggle of restoration.

Space, Croissants, Trees, & An Expanding YOUniverse

Enjoy this fantastic teaching offered by Angie Barker-Jackson, built around the story of God visiting Abraham under the trees of Mamre. Profound insights here!

CrossWalkMoth: Unsung Heroes

Stories connect us. Listen to these stories celebrating people in our lives who made a difference. Who is an unsung hero in your life?

Pentecost 2024

Welcome to Pentecost Sunday, the day most Christians recognize as the birthday of the Church.  Here is the story recorded by Luke, the author of the Book of Acts:

     When Pentecost Day arrived, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound from heaven like the howling of a fierce wind filled the entire house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be individual flames of fire alighting on each one of them. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages as the Spirit enabled them to speak.

     There were pious Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. When they heard this sound, a crowd gathered. They were mystified because everyone heard them speaking in their native languages. They were surprised and amazed, saying, “Look, aren’t all the people who are speaking Galileans, every one of them? How then can each of us hear them speaking in our native language? Parthians, Medes, and Elamites; as well as residents of Mesopotamia, Judea, and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the regions of Libya bordering Cyrene; and visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism), Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the mighty works of God in our own languages!” They were all surprised and bewildered. Some asked each other, “What does this mean?” Others jeered at them, saying, “They’re full of new wine!”

     Peter stood with the other eleven apostles. He raised his voice and declared, “Judeans and everyone living in Jerusalem! Know this! Listen carefully to my words! These people aren’t drunk, as you suspect; after all, it’s only nine o’clock in the morning!

     Peter replied, “Change your hearts and lives. Each of you must be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. Then you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. This promise is for you, your children, and for all who are far away—as many as the Lord our God invites.” With many other words he testified to them and encouraged them, saying, “Be saved from this perverse generation.” Those who accepted Peter’s message were baptized. God brought about three thousand people into the community on that day.

     The believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to the community, to their shared meals, and to their prayers. A sense of awe came over everyone. God performed many wonders and signs through the apostles. All the believers were united and shared everything. They would sell pieces of property and possessions and distribute the proceeds to everyone who needed them. Every day, they met together in the temple and ate in their homes. They shared food with gladness and simplicity. They praised God and demonstrated God’s goodness to everyone. The Lord added daily to the community those who were being saved. - Acts 2:1-15, 38-47 (CEB). 

     This is one of those sci-fi passages that can be baffling to modern readers.  We need to remember that this passage did not have us in mind. It was written to communicate what was being told to Luke from stories he gathered as he researched the development of the Church after Jesus died.  If the story sounds a bit like a folk tale, it should. Decades had passed since the event described.  Set aside the Western need for certainty and verifiable details.  Allow yourself to hear what is trying to be communicated for the original recipients.  Below are a series of take-aways that jump off the page once we see the story from their perspective:

     The Festival of Weeks/Shavuot/Pentecost. This started as a Spring harvest festival, but then morphed into something more in Judaism. Let’s appreciate what we’re seeing here.  Remember that Jesus told the disciples to stay put until they were baptized by the Holy Spirit.  The Festival of Weeks was perhaps the highest-attended festivals in ancient Judaism during the time of Jesus.  While it first celebrated the Spring harvest, it eventually celebrated the giving of the Law/Torah – a gift from the mouth of God to Moses on Mt. Sinai.  It is no accident that the baptism of the Holy Spirit is remembered as having taken place on the day the Law was given.  This is a new, quite literal expression of the Word of God being given.  Take-away number one: on the day set aside to celebrate the early harvest as well as the historical day when “God spoke”, the disciples experienced God’s presence.

     A Mighty Wind (not the hilarious movie). We read that there is the sound of a mighty wind.  We recall that ruach and pneuma, the Hebrew and Greek words that give us the word “breath” and “wind”, can also be translated as “spirit.”  This was reminiscent of the scene in Ezekiel’s vision of the Valley of Dry bones, when the Spirit of God brought to life that which was formerly dead.  Take-away number two: the sound of wind affirms the presence of the Spirit of God that brings new life.

     People engrossed in fire! Flames settle on each person. One translation suggests that each person was immersed in the flame.  In the Exodus story, Moses experienced God’s call through a burning bush full of flame but never consumed, and as the Israelites wandered toward the Promised Land, God’s presence at night was evidenced as a flame.  Take-away number three: the scene has us seeing the disciples immersed (the literal translation for baptism) in the presence of God.

     Que pasa? The immediate result of the disciples’ baptism in the windy, flaming presence of God was that they began speaking in other tongues.  From the tongues of fire come words in other tongues, a spiritually fueled pronouncement of God’s speaking the Word again. People nearby who were visiting Jerusalem for the Festival of Weeks/Pentecost heard the disciples speaking in their respective languages.  This shocked them because the disciples were not from a region of academic excellence where you might find many bilingual speakers.  No, the disciples were viewed as uneducated country boys with accents and outfits that gave their home zip code away.  The Word of God was being given to people from all over the world, not just in the Aramaic language Jesus spoke, but in the native tongues from distant places.  This echoes the call of Abraham, when he was told by God that this new venture they were undertaking would bless the whole world. It was also a reversal of the ancient Tower of Babylon myth, where God humbled humanity by creating multiple languages. Now, God has “come down to earth” and unified humanity by enabling people to hear and speak as one – a move toward radical inclusion.  Take-away number five: The message of God was meant for the whole world, in their native tongues, not just for Israel.

     The Fruitful Result. The result of all of this was a growing community built on the realized shalom of God.  People shared their resources with each other as they each had need.  They broke bread together, defying strict cultural rules dictating otherwise. They continued to learn together from the remembrances and insights of those who knew Jesus well, and they continued the practices that fostered their connection with God: prayer.  Take-away number six: the presence of God led them toward the practice of shalom.

     CrossWalk Copycat. “The believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to the community, to their shared meals, and to their prayers.” This verse should resonate with anyone who calls CrossWalk home because it reflects our means and ends that lead us to shalom.  We value and incorporate lifelong learning (Stretch), serving others (Kneel), leveling the playing field by welcoming everyone as equals (Grace & Justice), cultivating spiritual practices (Connect), and doing it all together as the spiritually attuned faith community (Incarnate).  Take-away number seven: CrossWalk is modeled and is modeling that early expression of the Christian movement!

The Lord’s Prayer (adapted by Philip Newell): Ground of all being. Mother of life, Father of the universe, Your name is sacred, beyond speaking. May we know your presence, May your longings be our longings In heart and in action. May there be food for the human family today and for the whole earth community. Forgive us the falseness of what we have done as we forgive those who are untrue to us. Do not forsake us in our time of conflict but lead us into new beginnings. For the light of life, the vitality of life, and the glory of life, are yours now and forever.

 Enjoy: The Lord’s Prayer in Multiple Languages

Commentary from SALT. Pentecost (Year B): Acts 2:1-21 and Ezekiel 37:1-14

Big Picture:

1) Pentecost (from a Greek word for “fiftieth”) is the fiftieth and last day of the Easter season. Next week is Trinity Sunday, and then nearly six months of “Ordinary Time” begin, during which this year’s walk through the Gospel of Mark (and occasionally John) will continue. From ten thousand feet, the Christian Year appears divided almost in half: about six months of holy seasons (Advent, Epiphany, Lent, Eastertide), and about six months of Ordinary Time. Like a pendulum swinging back and forth, or a pair of lungs breathing in and out, the church alternates between these two movements each year: high holidays and everyday life, the joys of celebration and the grunt work of growth.

2) Pentecost is the Christian rendition of the ancient Jewish pilgrimage festival, the Festival of Weeks, or Shavuot (pronounced “sha-voo-OAT,” the last syllable rhyming with “coat”), celebrated 50 days after Passover. For the ancient Israelites, this festival was an explicitly inclusive harvest celebration (Deut 16:11; Lev 23:16), and over time, it also came to mark the reception of the Torah at Mount Sinai. For Christians, it celebrates the reception of the Holy Spirit and the birth of the church. Happy Birthday!

3) The passage from Ezekiel is in the context of Israel’s exile to Babylon in the sixth century BCE. The prophet’s symbolic vision of a valley filled with the bones of the slain evokes the death-like experience of exile itself, and God’s spirited revivification of those bones functions as a hopeful promise of renewal and restoration.

Scripture:

1) The community of disciples are gathered because of the Festival of Weeks (Shavuot). Jesus had promised the arrival of the Holy Spirit not long after his departure — and sure enough, on the festival day itself, the Holy Spirit arrives. The scene is spectacular and chaotic: a violent, rushing sound like wind, and then “divided tongues, as of fire” — not a fire that destroys, but rather a fire like the one Moses encountered at the burning bush, which was “blazing, yet it was not consumed” (Exodus 3).

2) The Spirit’s most immediate, conspicuous effect is linguistic: many are empowered “to speak in other languages,” and at the same time, each person gathered hears the testimony in their native language. Think of a meeting at the United Nations, in which each person hears (through a headset) the proceedings translated into their mother tongue. The upshot of all of this is a sense of togetherness and unity: diverse as they are, everyone understands and can communicate, thanks to the Holy Spirit. Accordingly, they’re dazzled and taken aback, asking, “What does this mean?” (Acts 2:12).

3) As if to answer this question, Peter stands and speaks. He cites the prophet Joel, adapting those ancient words to illuminate the present: the final and decisive chapter of history has arrived, the dawn of God’s joyous Jubilee that Jesus declared early in his ministry (Luke 4:18-19), and now the pouring out of the Holy Spirit upon “all flesh.” Jesus both heralded and inaugurated this new era, and now the Spirit will empower a community through whom the movement’s message of healing, liberation, and joy will go out to the ends of the earth. The church is born!

4) On one level, from a Christian perspective these events provide a new layer of meaning for the ancient harvest festival: the Spirit comes in order to gather in the sheaves of God’s great harvest of redemption. On another level, the story of Pentecost reverses the ancient story of Babel (Gen 11:1-9): in an arrogant attempt to “make a name for ourselves,” humanity tries to build a tower with its top in the heavens — and God scatters them by diversifying their languages. Here in Acts, instead of humanity presumptuously ascending toward heaven, God graciously descends to earth; and instead of humanity linguistically fragmenting, the Spirit brings us together, bridging divides so we can understand each other.

Takeaways:

1) The birthday of the church is a perfect time to reflect on what “the church” is in the first place. This week’s passage points toward a portrait of the church as a dynamic community of people following Jesus, empowered by the Holy Spirit to carry out God’s mission of healing, liberation, and joy for the sake of the world.

2) This community is strikingly inclusive and egalitarian. The Jews Peter addresses are immigrants from all over the known world (“known” to Luke, that is!) who now live in Jerusalem, and the Jesus movement will soon open up to include Gentiles as well (Acts 10). Accordingly, Luke casts the church as a diverse, prophetic community of bridge-builders, visionaries, and dreamers, male and female, enslaved and free (Acts 2:17) — and soon enough, this egalitarian, communitarian ethos extends to the church’s social organization as well: “they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need” (Acts 2:43-47). (On the early church’s socio-economic life, check out this remarkable, provocative short essay by theologian David Bentley Hart, “Are Christians Supposed to Be Communists?”)

3) Likewise, this is a perfect week to reflect on how we understand the Holy Spirit. Luke’s portrait of the Spirit draws on ideas at least as ancient as Ezekiel’s vision, in which God’s “breath” or “spirit” — both ru’ah in Hebrew — brings life, renewal, connection, and restoration, sometimes in sudden, disruptive fashion (compare Ezekiel’s “suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together” to Luke’s “suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind” (Ezekiel 37:7, Acts 2:2)).

4) But for all the drama, Pentecost is only the beginning: throughout the Book of Acts, again and again, the Spirit mobilizes the church and opens up new horizons for ministry (see Acts 4, 8, 10, 13, 15, 19, and so on). Breath means new life — and new life means new growth, change, and ongoing development. The Spirit protects and connects, but also challenges, provokes, and pushes us along. And thinking this way about life in the Spirit is the perfect segue into the nearly six months ahead of Ordinary Time, the season of everyday life and growth. So, “Happy Birthday,” yes — and also, “Let’s go!” The church is not a building, nor is it a particular membership or group of people. At its heart, the church is a mission, God’s mission — and the call, the challenge, the adventure continues. Let’s go!

Freeing Jesus: Presence

With this teaching, this series on Diana Butler Bass’ book, Freeing Jesus, concludes. Our journey, however, does not. This also happens to be Mother’s Day and the Sunday before Pentecost. What a nice synchronicity that a chapter on the dwelling of God dovetails with a text serving as a prelude to the dramatic experience of the Holy Spirit also lands on a day that we honor the gender who is capable of carrying a “dweller” and eventually giving birth to something (someone) new! Here is the text:

Acts 1:1-8 (CEB).  Theophilus, the first scroll I wrote concerned everything Jesus did and taught from the beginning, right up to the day when he was taken up into heaven. Before he was taken up, working in the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus instructed the apostles he had chosen. After his suffering, he showed them that he was alive with many convincing proofs. He appeared to them over a period of forty days, speaking to them about God’s [kin-dom]. While they were eating together, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem but to wait for what the Father had promised. He said, “This is what you heard from me: John baptized with water, but in only a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”

     As a result, those who had gathered together asked Jesus, “Lord, are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel now?”

     Jesus replied, “It isn’t for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has set by his own authority. Rather, you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.”

     Question: As Spirit bearers, what will be said of our witness?

Bass offers wonderful research well communicated in the following quotes (page numbers are from the Kindle version). Take your time. Let each quote sink in…

     In the scriptures, the Spirit is called the ruach, pneuma, and the shekhinah, the “wind,” the “breath,” and the “dwelling.” Theologian Marjorie Suchocki refers to these as God’s power, wisdom, and presence. Those three things are the heart of redemption, of experiencing the full life God intends for all: God as presence answers alienation and loneliness with love; God as wisdom answers the loss of time with trust; God as power answers injustice with empowering hope. This vision of a redemptive God of presence, wisdom, and power comes from the biblical revelation of God’s presence in Jesus of Nazareth, named the Christ (222-223).

     Jewish historian Amy Jill Levine says, “Judaism has the idea of the Shekhinah, the feminine presence of God descending to earth and dwelling among human beings.” She continues, making the point that the possibility that a person could somehow be the presence, the dwelling among us, was not out of line with ancient Judaism: First-century Judaism was sufficiently fluid to allow even the idea that an individual could embody divinity. We know that because the earliest followers of Jesus who recognized him as divinity incarnate—such as Paul or James, the brother of Jesus who’s running the Jerusalem church—still called themselves Jews. Everybody recognized them as Jews (223-224).

     Jesus was born male, the Son of God. If, however, Jesus is inhabited by shekhinah, Jesus brings the divine presence to the world, then, in some way, the man Jesus also embodies the sacred feminine. (238)

     In the Old Testament, there is maternal imagery for God—including that of a mother bear, an eagle hovering over her nest, a woman in labor, a nursing mother—and verses like this: “I was to them like those who lift infants to their cheeks. I bent down to them and fed them” (Hosea 11:4). In the New Testament, Jesus continues this tradition claiming motherly concern as his own: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Matt. 23:37). Although often ignored, there have been important Christian thinkers who have explored the idea of Jesus as Mother. The most notable of these gender-bending reflections came from Julian of Norwich, circa 1390: “And so Jesus is our true Mother in nature by our first creation. And he is our true Mother in grace by taking our created nature . . . He is our Mother, brother and savior” (238).

     Theologian Grace Ji-Sun Kim puts it well: The Christian faith is different from what the world teaches. The Christian faith is not “seeing is believing,” but rather, “believing is seeing.” We must open our eyes and hearts and see Jesus’s presence in our lives. We need to see him in the places that we dare not to look and dare not to think about (245).

Everyone is born of flesh and spirit. The problem is that we forget.

Question: How are you relating to the Presence of God dwelling in this space today?

Freeing Jesus: Way

The following text has comforted and tormented untold millions of people over time.  Can you see why?

“Don’t be troubled. Trust in God. Trust also in me. My Father’s house has room to spare. If that weren’t the case, would I have told you that I’m going to prepare a place for you? When I go to prepare a place for you, I will return and take you to be with me so that where I am you will be too. You know the way to the place I’m going.”

     Thomas asked, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going. How can we know the way?”

Jesus answered, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you have really known me, you will also know the Father. From now on you know him and have seen him.” – John 14:1-7 (CEB)

     On the one hand, Jesus offers great comfort regarding God’s care, which apparently extends somehow beyond the grave.  On the other hand, however, it sure seems like he makes a very exclusivist statement about himself, calling into question whether or not people of other faith traditions will be covered under the same promises.  The latter concern triggers our lizard brains into a frenzy.  Combine it with our present context where we demand clarity and certainty, and we can find ourselves riddled with anxiety.  Yet, for Christian insiders, the certainty is a comfort.  As Pete Enns noted, “believing that we are right about God helps give us a sense of order in an otherwise messy world” (193).

     The bummer of our desire for certainty is that we get more than we bargained for.  As Richard Rohr notes, “religion has turned the biblical idea of faith . . . into a need and even a right to certain knowing, complete predictability, and perfect assurance about whom and what God likes or doesn’t like” (193). When we “get it all figured out” we don’t really need faith anymore, do we?  We’ve got a signed contract from God in our proof-texted theological construct.  This is deeply problematic, however, as Pete Enns notes: “Aligning faith in God and certainty about what we believe and needing to be right in order to maintain a healthy faith—these do not make for a healthy faith in God.  This the sin of certainty” (194).

     Much of the Christian tradition that has formed our current thinking was not born from a pure state with no motives beyond the Spirit’s truth.  Hardly!  As Diana Butler Bass points out, “the creeds were the result of politics, power, patriarchy, and privilege, part of a larger argument about who would shape the Christian narrative, and not some miracle of the Holy Spirit. It was a conflicted history involving humans with messy motives and much self-interest” (197).  It sure is a relief knowing we are no longer susceptible to such lowly motives in our present age...  Sigh.

     So, what do we make of Jesus’ statement of love and also exclusion? Bass reminds us that “the disciples are frightened that their friend and teacher is leaving; Jesus reassures them that, although they cannot follow him into suffering and death, he is present with them through love, trust, and faith in him, not in ideas about him. ‘I have loved you; abide in my love’ (John 15:9)” (168-169).  Lovely. But what about “except through me”?  As one scholar [Craig Koester] says, “the seemingly judgmental phrase ‘no one comes to the Father’ is ‘not the last word’: ‘Except’ is like a window that lets light into a closed room. It fits what the Gospel says about Christ coming as light into a world of darkness and serving as the door . . . that enables people to enter God’s sheepfold. Rather than restricting access to God the word “except” creates access to God. There would be no way except that the love of God has made a way. God would be distant, unavailable, separated from us except for love” (169-170).  As Bass paraphrases, Jesus was saying “I am the way, the truth, and the life, Jesus assured them. Except for my showing you the way of God you’d get lost” (170).  How does this way of thinking about this passage sit with you?

     This jibes well with Jesus instruction that follows (John 15:9-14 CEB):

“As the Father loved me, I too have loved you. Remain in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love, just as I kept my Father’s commandments and remain in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy will be in you and your joy will be complete. This is my commandment: love each other just as I have loved you. No one has greater love than to give up one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.”

     If Jesus promoted anything, it was love. This was the central thrust behind the Kin-dom of God he proclaimed.  I think it is worth noting that Jesus didn’t simply tell his disciples to love each other – he told them to love each other as he had loved them.  This serves as a reminder that our vision of love may be too small.  We need to be reminded of the expansiveness of love.  Could it be that we settle for our more shallow understanding of love? I wonder what we have missed out on?  I wonder what others have missed out on because we opted for a smaller love, because love isn’t only something we receive – we are commanded to extend it wherever we go.  Bass recalls:

     In 1979, when I was still in college, a professor assigned a book called Journey Inward, Journey Outward. No surprise that I loved it. The author, Elizabeth O’Connor, told the story of a Christian community organized around two spiritual journeys—the interior one toward knowing our true self and knowing God, and the one directed outward into the world to enact God’s justice and love. These two movements comprise the way of Jesus, a continual flow of breath: in, out; in, out; in, out. “Breathe it all in,” writes poet Mary Oliver. “Love it all out.” This spiritual dynamism was the wellspring of knowing Jesus, of my inner searching and outward service (186).

     This interpretation of John 14 – beyond certainty of who is in and who is out – is founded entirely differently.  It is in the loving that we experience deeper, more profound love, and ultimately, God.  Not a checklist, but an approach to life.  As Meister Eckhart wrote, “There is a journey you must take. It is a journey without destination. There is no map. Your soul will lead you. And you can take nothing with you” (186-187).  What a different vision than maintaining a belief statement to make sure it is right!  Bass reminds us of how this was lived out by the mystics of the past:

     Not all mystics are remembered, many were martyred by their own church, and a few were made saints. Yet for all their diversity and the uniqueness of their experiences, they tend to express what is within through circles and spirals, poetry and revelations, in visions of love rather than dogma. Theirs was the alternative way, unconcerned with worldly power, seeking only to follow a less-traveled path. “Since I gave myself to Love’s service, whether I lose or win, I am resolved,” wrote the thirteenth-century Dutch mystic Hadewijch of Brabant in language echoing others’. “I will always give her thanks, whether I lose or win; I will stand in her power.” For her, love was the energy of an unreachable destination, the way of a “Being beyond all bliss” (188-189).

     Wow!  I find this so incredibly compelling!  Love’s service – who wouldn’t want to count themselves in Love’s service?  Yet as human beings it is always a choice, always something that must be maintained. Rabbi Jonathon Sacks notes:

     We can obey but also disobey; we can create harmony or discord. The freedom to do good comes hand-in-hand with the freedom to do evil. The result is the entire human drama as Judaism understands it. Our fate does not lie in the stars, nor in the human genome, or in any other form of determinism. We become what we choose to be (206).

     If the past is any predicter of the future, we can safely bet that we will find ourselves being a mixture of hits and misses, wins and losses, at times champions of love and at other times perpetuators of hatred.  Knowing this ahead of time helps our inner perfectionists calm down a bit.  While we wish we could bat a thousand, the best batters usually get a hit only a third of the time.  We can hopefully do better than that, but we will never be 100%. Not even Jesus hit that mark.  But we can celebrate the reality that love always continues to invite expression.  There will always be more opportunities to invite and express love.

     In what areas of your life does accepting and expressing love come easily?  Why?  Where is it more difficult?  Why?  Where do you sense Love inviting you to embrace love and express love?  How might saying yes to such an invitation fulfill Jesus’ statement about being the way, truth, and life that leads to the Divine?

Unless otherwise noted, all quotes are from Diana Butler Bass’ book, Freeing Jesus: Rediscovering Jesus as Friend, Teacher, Savior, Lord, Way, and Presence (HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

Through me: spiritual practices (the way), authenticity and integrity (the truth), and abundance and joy (life). (Bass, 166)

Commentary from SALT (Matthew Myer Boulton):

Sixth Week of Easter (Year B): John 15:9-17 and Acts 10:44-48

Big Picture:

1) This is the sixth of the seven weeks of Eastertide, and the third of four weeks exploring Jesus’ teachings about living in intimacy with God. Following directly on last week’s passage in which Jesus casts himself as “the vine” and the disciples as the vine’s fruitful branches, here Jesus elaborates on just what sort of “fruit” he has in mind: works of love for the sake of joy.

2) As we saw last week, the key to understanding the “farewell discourse” in John (John 14-17) is to remember that Jesus is engaged here in urgent pastoral care, assuring his distraught disciples that his imminent departure is not abandonment, but rather a move that will make way for an even deeper intimacy. Accordingly, the exhortations in this week’s passage (“love one another”) are expressions of care and reassurance. Hearing Jesus this way shifts the tone from mere imperative (“you must go and do such-and-such”) to warm encouragement and consolation (“take heart, I’m not abandoning you — as you go and do such-and-such, we’ll be together!”).

3) This passage introduces a key theme in the farewell discourse — arguably the central theme, nothing less than the purpose of Jesus’ mission in the first place. That theme is joy. In this passage, and again in chapters 16 and 17, Jesus frames joy as the ultimate goal of his ministry to his disciples, and by extension to the whole world: "that your joy may be complete" (John 15:11). Jesus has come to dwell with humanity, and now will lay down his life, and promises to equip the church and “draw all people” (John 12:32) — and he does these things out of love, he proclaims, a love for the sake of "complete joy."

4) The larger context of the passage from Acts is the Jesus movement’s official shift toward including Gentiles as well as Jews. Just a few verses earlier, Peter has preached on God’s openness to all people: the phrase the NRSV translates as “God shows no partiality” is literally, “God accepts no one’s face” — in other words, God doesn't crassly play favorites, and so God's love isn't restricted to any in-group, but rather spills over, expanding to include supposed outsiders (Acts 10:34). Accordingly, Peter’s question in this week's reading (“Can anyone withhold the water…?”) echoes the Ethiopian eunuch’s rhetorical-yet-subversive remark, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” (Acts 8:36).

Scripture:

1) In the context of Jesus assuring his disciples that he is by no means abandoning them, these reflections on love, joy, and friendship function as soothing words of solace. It’s as if Jesus is saying, “On one level, I am about to leave you, but on a deeper level, we’ll be even closer than before. Just continue along the path I have shown you — and we’ll be together. Love one another — and you’ll thereby abide in my love, which is to say, you’ll abide in me, as intimate as a vine and its branches. Your love itself will be the sign of all signs that we are acting together, living together, abiding together. Look at my intimacy with God: it’s based on my listening and embodying and abiding in God’s commandments to love, and in this way, God and I are inseparable. So — go and do likewise! Listen and embody my commandment to love, and we’ll be inseparable, too.”

2) And then it’s as if Jesus adds: “And here’s the point of all this: I want us to be so close that my joy is yours, so that your joy will be perfect joy, complete joy, joy in all its fullness. Isn’t that what all loving parents want for their children? Complete joy? That’s what God wants for you! And so: even though the stars may seem to fall over the days ahead, as I am handed over and sent down into the valley of the shadow of death, remember this: what I want for you, and what I promise you, and what I give to you — is joy.”

3) To what may this “complete joy” be compared? A little later in the farewell discourse, Jesus compares it to childbirth: “When a woman is in labor, she has pain, because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world. So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you” (John 16:21-22). Jesus’ mission is for the sake of joy, yes — but not just any joy. Think of it, he says, like the joy of a new mother, strong and creative, exhausted and exultant, a joy that is no stranger to anguish, and above all the joy of having brought new life into the world. From this angle, we may put the poetry this way: every Christian disciple is a mother or a midwife!

4) What do we typically call a relationship characterized by this confluence of listening, love, togetherness, creativity, and joy? In this week’s passage Jesus calls it friendship, another note of assurance and consolation for his disciples, as if he's saying: “I no longer call you ‘servants’ but rather ‘friends’ — and of course I would never abandon my friends! On the contrary, I will lay down my life for my friends — precisely so we can be even closer in our life together, abiding in one another, so that your joy may be complete.”

5) While Jesus mentions many imperatives in John’s gospel (“abide,” “believe,” etc.), he gives his disciples only one commandment: to “love one another as I have loved you” (John 13:34-35; 15:12). And so the emphasis in this passage on “keeping commandments” betrays no authoritarianism, but rather the opposite: we should do nothing, and follow no command, that does not build up our neighbors in love, ourselves in love, and the world in love. In other words, Jesus is calling not for the sort of forced "obedience" found in relationships of coercion, but rather the sort found among genuine friends, companions who listen to each other in loving-kindness (the English word “obedience” is from the Latin ob (“to”) and audire (“listen”)).

6) Likewise, Jesus assures his disciples that his love doesn’t depend on them; rather, they can depend on his love, come what may. The poignancy here, and therefore the consolation, is almost unbearable: for these “friends” to whom Jesus speaks in this passage will deny and desert him later that very night! It’s as if he’s saying, “You don’t know it yet, but just a few hours from now you will have good reason to doubt yourself, your faith, your integrity as never before. But don’t worry. You didn’t choose me; I chose you. You may find yourself fickle and afraid, but my love for you is steadfast. Nothing you do can change it — even the unspeakable things you will do tonight. I chose you, I choose you, and I commission you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last: works of love for the sake of joy.”

Takeaways:

1) For some Christians today, faith is the most important dimension of a disciple’s life. For others, love is the ultimate goal toward which any truly living faith will lead. But for John, there is yet another, even higher aim, for the sake of which faith and love abide. Jesus calls it “complete joy.” This is the “for what” of God’s love and deliverance, the “for what” of salvation, the “for what” of Jesus’ ministry and therefore the ministry of the church. For joy! Faith, yes — but faith for the sake of joy. Love, yes — but love for the sake of joy. “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete” (John 15:11).

2) What kind of joy? In this week’s passage, Jesus evokes the delight-in-being-together of genuine friendship — and in our own best relationships, we can catch glimpses of what he has in mind. And just a bit later in the farewell discourse, he explicitly compares “complete joy” to the jubilation of a new mother: her spent, exhilarated delight following the anguish of labor, celebrating the new life that has come into the world. And indeed, as we approach Mother’s Day, it’s fitting to reflect on how mothering can help us understand God’s love for us.

3) Finally, in light of this week’s passage from Acts, we can add this: Love seeks a world in which this “complete joy” is not just for a privileged few, but rather for everyone. Peter’s rhetorical-yet-subversive question — “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” (Acts 10:47) — echoes the Ethiopian eunuch: “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” (Acts 8:36). Potential obstacles and withholders abound, of course, and the next chapter in Acts chronicles the ensuing inclusion/exclusion controversy that Peter's openness provoked in the early Christian community (sound familiar?). But the way Peter puts his question is telling, both then and now: “Can anyone withhold the water...?” Like love, water tends to permeate and overflow limitations. Like joy, water resists attempts to contain it. The Holy Spirit goes where She wills: as Peter goes on to explain, “Who was I that I could hinder God?” (Acts 11:17). After all, God’s love had already overflowed Peter’s denials and desertion, including him precisely when, by all appearances, he might well have been excluded. Far be it from Peter, then (and far be it from us!), to presume to withhold or prevent. God’s love for the sake of creation’s joy knows no bounds.

p.s. For more on love, joy, and midwifery, check out Mary, Midwives, and God's Kairos.

Freeing Jesus: Lord

I started with an impersonal God as a kid.  Growing up in church, I learned the stories fo Jesus and knew the ethic.  I would listen to pastoral prayers awhile before my mind wandered off (or I fell asleep).  I knew all the parts to the most-loved hymns.  I knew the story well and believed it.  But God was not personal.

     Jesus became Lord for me the summer before my junior year of college.  Par for the course, as a young adult I was doing my best to make a case for humanity’s total depravity until it caught up with my in the form of heartache, followed by some bad old-fashioned Christian-specific shame and guilt.  I literally had a come to Jesus moment where I experienced profound grace, followed by deep gratitude and allegiance.  It was at that point that Jesus became my Lord.  I addressed my prayers to “Lord”.  It worked well for me, keeping me in line for a while, and giving me a way to express my devotion in somewhat scripted ways.  Referencing Jesus as Lord was truly liberating, freeing me to a new level of faith that I hadn’t yet experience.  I loved Jesus as Lord, and I was his dutiful, grateful servant.  My experience gave me very personal insight into Jesus’ parable directed toward religious leaders who were great at telling others how to live their lives yet failed to take their own advice:

     “Why are you so polite with me, always saying ‘Yes, sir,’ and ‘That’s right, sir,’ but never doing a thing I tell you? These words I speak to you are not mere additions to your life, homeowner improvements to your standard of living. They are foundation words, words to build a life on.

     “If you work the words into your life, you are like a smart carpenter who dug deep and laid the foundation of his house on bedrock. When the river burst its banks and crashed against the house, nothing could shake it; it was built to last. But if you just use my words in Bible studies and don’t work them into your life, you are like a dumb carpenter who built a house but skipped the foundation. When the swollen river came crashing in, it collapsed like a house of cards. It was a total loss.” – Luke 6:46-49 (MSG)

     I could relate to building a life without a foundation – I lived through the wreckage. I could proclaim the strength a strong foundation provides – I was living it. What I didn’t realize is that this parable also provided a measure to not just gauge my own faithfulness, but one to judge others as well.  How well were those around me toe-ing the line? I could surely identify the ones who clearly weren’t.  Paradoxically, the story meant to humble the self-righteous eventually made his humbled kid self-righteous!  Perhaps it should have been expected, given that the word “Lord” implies hierarchy.  In a hierarchy, everyone knows where they stand in relation to others.  In this case, Jesus was always on top with the rest of us below – but the ranking in that field below mattered.  As Diana Butler Bass notes in her book, Freeing Jesus (120):

“Jesus is Lord.” Historians refer to it as an early creedal affirmation, but it was really more of a theological slogan. At its simplest level, the Greek term kyrios, meaning “lord” or “master,” quite literally meant the one who owns you. Slaves called their masters “lord”; students often referred to revered teachers as “master”; and workers might call their employers “lord.” In a world where millions were held in slavery and millions of others lived in poverty and powerlessness at the bottom of a rigid social hierarchy, claiming Jesus as “Lord” announced one’s liberation from oppression. “Jesus is Lord” made sense in an empire of slaves, as submitting to his lordship amounted to spiritual freedom, especially in the new community called the church where, apparently, female slaves held leadership positions and Roman social status was upended. Baptism was the rite of initiation into this egalitarian community. All Christians were baptized into their new master, Jesus, according to Paul, who includes an early baptismal creed in his letter to Galatians: “There is no longer slave or free . . . for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” (3:27–28).

     Furthermore, Bass points out that the roots of this moniker are found in the Jewish tradition:

     “Lord” appears in Jewish contexts of the time. Because the name for God in the Hebrew scriptures, YHWH, was considered too sacred to utter aloud, whenever that term appeared in the text, the word adonai, “Lord,” was used in its place. In the Greek version of the Hebrew scriptures, the Septuagint, kyrios was the translation of the Hebrew word adonai. Thus, Greek-speaking Jews referred to the Jewish God as Kyrios, “Lord.” – Bass, 121

     We may not be cognizant of the implications of such language, but we cannot kid ourselves into thinking our language is benign.  While language at times liberates us, it also immediately limits us, too.  There’s no way around it.  In this case, using “Lord” implies a hierarchy, further concretized by Jesus’ use of the phrase “Kingdom of God/Heaven.”  The Lord is the one who owns the manor, the region, or the whole empire.  How might that play out in a tradition that was informed by Imperialism from the time of Constantine forward?  As Bass notes, “Kingdom is a corrupted metaphor, one misused by the church throughout history to make itself into the image of an earthly kingdom. Indeed, Christians have often failed to recognize that “kingdom” was an inadequate and incomplete way of speaking of God’s governance, not a call to set up their own empire (149).”  And yet we did.  First, we rode the coattails of the Roman Empire, and then, when the Church grew strong enough, it was its own expression of empire.  This is still evident in the Catholic Church, but to lesser degrees exists in most denominations.  The Southern Baptist Convention represents the most powerful body of conservative Evangelicalism in the United States, flexing its power every election cycle as it influences its members to vote according to the issues it has deemed most important (to the neglect of others).  Ironically, this group that claims to be founded on Jesus’ teaching and example, barely resembles him in an increasing number of onlookers in our culture.  As actor and comedian John Fugelsang noted (Bass, 138):

Jesus [was] a radical, nonviolent revolutionary who hung around with lepers, hookers, and crooks; wasn’t American and never spoke English; was anti-wealth, anti–death penalty, and anti–public prayer; who was never anti-gay; who never mentioned abortion or birth control, never called the poor lazy, never justified torture, never fought for tax cuts for the wealthiest Nazarenes, never asked a leper for a co-pay; and who was a long-haired, brown-skinned, homeless community-organizing, anti-slut-shaming Middle Eastern Jew.

     So, we can now see that “Lord” as as title is problematic, in part because it seems so inherently entwined with the idea of “Kingdom.”  Yet, as Bass points out, perhaps we need to rethink our understanding what Kingdom meant for Jesus and might mean for us:

Isasi-Díaz argues that “kin-dom,” an image of la familia, the liberating family of God working together for love and justice, is a metaphor closer to what Jesus intended. In the words of theologian Janet Soskice: In Middle English the words “kind” and “kin” were the same—to say that Christ is “our kinde Lord” is not to say that Christ is tender and gentle, although that may be implied, but to say that he is kin—our kind. This fact, and not emotional disposition, is the rock which is our salvation. To say “our kinde Lord” was to say “our kin Lord.” Jesus the Lord is our kin. The kind Lord is kin to me, you, all of us—making us one. This is a subversive deconstruction of the image of kingdom and kings, replacing forever the pretensions and politics of earthly kingdoms with Jesus’s calling forth a kin-dom. King, kind, kin (149-150).

     As a white man living in a country that is still led by white men more than others, I don’t think I can fully appreciate the potency of the idea of kin-dom.  I represent the apex predator, after all, not the oppressed (despite what may be reported by some news outlets).  I wonder if white guys like me actually prefer the Kingdom and Lord paradigm because it perpetuates the Imperialism we have enjoyed for so long.  Jesus as Lord may rule over us, but we rule over everyone else.  I can live with that!  Or can I?  If kin-dom is more accurate, that’s going to require some retooling, isn’t it?  It implies not only that I cannot settle for a hierarchical relationship with Jesus and the Divine, but I cannot settle for it anywhere else.  That’s quite unnerving.

     Chucking the hierarchical lordship and kingdom paradigms (as understood in this era), what are we left with?  Relationship.  I suppose an argument could be made that relationships exist in the other paradigms, but not the kind that are mutually fulfilling, and not ones that operate on love or shalom.  For love and shalom to exist requires a relationship not built on roles and reciprocity, but on equality, equity, inclusion, and belonging.  These words are often used to describe the goals leveling the playing field for all human beings regardless of ethnicity, skin tone, or sexual orientation.  They are the right words.

     Such thinking leads me to ask some questions.  Have you ever been in such an equitable relationship?  Have you ever been in one that wasn’t quite there?  What were the differences?  How did each make you feel? What did each require?

Questions to think about...

1. What language for God has been powerful and helpful for you in your past?  Has that language’s effectiveness changed over time?  How?

2. What language for God is working for you now? How does the foreknowledge that your current language may not be your future language affect how tightly you hold that language?

3. How does the reframing of the word kingdom impact your view of God, yourself, and others?

All quotes, unless otherwise noted are from Diana Butler Bass’ book, Freeing Jesus: Rediscovering Jesus as Friend, Teacher, Savior, Lord, Way, and Presence. HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

Freeing Jesus: Savior

In her book, Freeing Jesus, Diana Butler Bass chronicled her understanding of “Jesus as Savior”, which began with her family’s incorporation of the children’s bedtime prayer: Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.  As I reflect on this prayer, I think the best thing I can say about it is simply this: it rhymes.  For a rote prayer for their kids, perhaps parents can step it up a bit.  A lot.  Drilling this prayer into kids heads makes the primary focus of God’s role “death management,” and while there is hope implied that God can handle such things, the fact that we are asking that God would keep or take our souls implies that perhaps, if we don’t, God won’t.  This runs counter to Jesus’ claim that God’s love is unconditional, and the later Christian declaration that in Christ everything has been reconciled to God.  We need not ask anymore for what is already and eternally ours.  Perhaps the prayer could shift toward gratitude for unconditional love that is our ground of being, our source of inspiration, and our hope for the future.

     As Bass notes, the focus on fear of death has been capitalized upon and used as a tool of coercion for centuries, and in the US it has been leveraged heavily since the rise of Evangelicalism in the late 1960’s.  The narrative behind it? God is too holy to allow sin in “His” presence, we have all sinned (the penalty warranted is death), Jesus died for our sins while we were sinning so that all who call on his name will be saved (from death and condemnation).  The image of savior is one who saves us from the doom of death’s finality and the threat of damnation.  How many of us have unwittingly adopted this narrative as THE Christian narrative?  How many people are walking away from Christianity because they don’t buy the story anymore?  Many – and many more at an increasing rate.

     I almost left myself while I was a pastor because it felt so shallow. I felt like I was selling afterlife insurance. That’s not nothing, of course, since we human beings are aware of our future and generally freak out about it! Yet it still didn’t feel like a compelling enough vision to keep me in the game.  I’ve told the story many times – I used my Doctor of Ministry thesis project to help me determine what salvation God was offering, what it meant to call Jesus “Savior”, and whether or not it was worthy enough to invest any more of my life.  I’m still writing about this as a pastor nearly 20 years later, so you might guess that what I discovered was worth it!

     My doctoral thesis focused on soteriology, the study of salvation.  “Soter” is the root Greek word that gives us the English word “save”.  Most of the people who lived in the Greco-Roman world in the first century CE understood the word soter to mean to heal. The salvation God offers is healing.  The vision or purpose of the healing is health, or, more profoundly, holistic wellbeing.  What word captures this vision in Jesus’ Jewish tradition?  Shalom.  Shalom – holistic wellbeing, peace, harmony – is the goal.  Why is “healing” the “salvation” God offers? Because we struggle to stay well. 

     Sometimes – rarely – people experience what appears to be instantaneous healing which is often called miraculous.  I believe such things happen at times, not because God intervened from above, but because of a wide range of influences including an ever-present God in the moment and moments leading up to the so-called miraculous event.  Healing of every kind, though, is miraculous, amazing, and incredible.  Healing of every kind involves myriad influences and processes working in sync with each other.  The salvation of God, being healing, is such a combination.

     What other words describe what this healing-salvation looks like?  Renewal, restoration, and even resurrection come to mind.  All refer to a before-and-after story whereby a less desirable, former expression gives way to a more desirable future.  To get from the former to the latter requires a process.  I submit to you that the Way Jesus taught and modeled is that process from less whole, less healthy, less peaceful, less lovely life to something more whole, healthy, peaceful and lovely.  For such a process, such a Way, we don’t need a super hero to fly in and save the day.  We need someone who cares for us, guides us, nurtures us, attends to us, protects us.  We need a shepherd.

     Jesus saw himself in this role as remembered in the Gospel of John:

I came so that [all] could have life—indeed, so that [all] could live life to the fullest. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. When the hired hand sees the wolf coming, he leaves the sheep and runs away. That’s because he isn’t the shepherd; the sheep aren’t really his. So the wolf attacks the sheep and scatters them. He’s only a hired hand and the sheep don’t matter to him.

     I am the good shepherd. I know my own sheep and they know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. I give up my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that don’t belong to this sheep pen. I must lead them too. They will listen to my voice and there will be one flock, with one shepherd. – John 10:10-16 (CEB)

     What Jesus says about himself fits with what he said earlier in the same Gospel:

God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life (and whole and lasting life). God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved (healed) through him. – John 3:16-17 (CEB)

     Does the shepherd motif align with the biblical tradition?  Read Psalm 23 again, or listen to it put to music.

     If Jesus is our shepherd who guides us along the Way that leads to abundant, whole, healed, shalom-dripping life, then knowing what that Way looks like makes all the difference regarding our healing.  If you’ve been around CrossWalk for long or scoured our website, we try to make known the Way that leads to life.  The process involves how we think, how we live, who we live for, how we stay grounded, and with whom we do life.  We use the following terms to describe this: Stretch, Kneel, Justice/Grace, Connect, and Incarnate.

     When we think of healing/salvation, I believe the above process represents principles that work for every type of problem or wound that needs healing, be it intrapersonal, interpersonal, or on a larger scale – all the way to global issues like war, famine, extreme poverty, etc.  You can also note that these principles find resonance with other processes that seek healing, like the 12-Steps that help people overcome addictions. This is simply because, as Richard Rohr puts it, what’s true is true everywhere. We should expect related themes and principles across the board wherever healing is sought.  Below is the basic process, followed by examples of how this plays out using very broad strokes.

Jesus the Good Shepherd’s Path to Shalom: A Choice

•       Stretch: Be curious.

•       Kneel: Serving humanizes and equalizes.

•       Justice/Grace: ID culprits, consequences, charity.

•       Connect: Stay in the flow that leads to shalom.

•       Incarnate: We’re all dust and Breath. Embrace it.

     Disturbed Shalom: Self-Esteem.  The Enneagram personality paradigm suggests that we all carry wounds that we try to manage in various ways specific to our personality type.  Perhaps you are a Type 3 Performer who bases personal value on audience response (audience being a parent, siblings, friends, lovers, bosses, new acquaintances, etc.).  The wound often experienced by threes is a feeling of being unworthy of love or simply unloved.  Three seek to manage/heal that wound by performing harder to impress/win the affection of our audience.  This may work for a while to varying degrees, but it does not bring true healing.  Does Jesus’ Way of salvation-healing work?  Let’s find out.

·      Stretch: What needs to be learned that would help a person see themselves and their situation more fully?  Perhaps in this case, learning about personality types and their patters might help the person see themselves more clearly and help them understand the root of their pain, how they are managing it, and healthier ways to find healing.  Perhaps some good theological reading will help the person discover that they are fully and forever loved by God – warts and all.  Perhaps love as a foundation might begin to heal the heart and reduce the need to perform for affection.  What do you see that might be helpful to learn for such a person?

·      Kneel. How might serving others in some way – with no expectation of anything in return and perhaps anonymous – help a Three serve for nothing more than the love and joy of serving?  How might this help reshape their motivation for service? What about self love?  How can a Three practice self-care – an expression of loving ourselves that goes hand in hand with loving others?

·      Grace and Justice.  Threes never perform well enough in their own minds. How might grace toward the self help?  Accepting oneself “as is” can be incredibly liberating, letting go of the pressure of performance. Unless they are really unhealthy, Threes don’t slack off, so this acceptance is not an excuse to be idle or lazy – that’s just not in their DNA.  There is a personal justice component here as well, namely that they judge themselves overly harshly – much more than they judge others.  They hold court all the time and are overly harsh on themselves.  If a Three saw this happening for someone else, they would call it injustice.

·      Connect.  Threes can get so busy performing that they don’t take time to connect to the Ground of Being – God – a term coined by theologian Paul Tillich.  While this is a self-care move, it is also a reconnecting to Reality, being still and silent with no audience, being reminded that Breath is everything.  Quiet for long enough, the Three might just sense the gentle whisper of God reminding them that they are loved for who they are, not because of what they do.

·      Incarnate.  Who we hang around influences us significantly.  Surrounding ourselves with people who are pursuing shalom will help us stay on the Way Jesus taught.  These people, knowing that Spirit lives in them and the Three, are more apt to sense and say what the Spirit prompts, and the Three who is invested in the Way will be more likely to do the same.  This community of Spirit, recognizing each other as incarnate beings, supports each other in their identity as Beloved.

·      Results.  Taken together, with all of these pieces working together, I think healing to varying degrees can be greatly facilitated.  Sometimes the process helps us see that we need professional help.  Isn’t it great that there are professionals who can help?  BTW – I am familiar with this process for Threes because – surprise – I am a Three!

Disturbed Shalom: Relationships.  Can the Way offer healing for relational wounds?  This could be applied to intimate lovers or global adversaries.  Let’s see what that might look like...

·      Stretch. What needs to be studied to gain more clarity and understanding about the relationship dynamics that are the context of your painful experience?  Who can give insight?

·      Serve.  If we’re talking about a safe relationship, sometimes serving the other is a big step in staying connected and seeing them as fellow human beings.  We’re in trouble when we “other” those we are in relationship with, which usually puts us on higher moral ground.

·      Grace and Justice.  What injustices have been experienced in the relational issue at hand?  Who has not been heard?  Who has been offended?  What infractions need to be recognized and addressed? What grace needs to be offered?

·      Connect. Especially when entering dialogue, what grounding work has been done to center, humble and connect each other with God for strength, insight, courage, grace, etc.?

·      Incarnate. How are both parties in the relationship able to recognize the presence of God in each other?

     This simply scratches the surface, I know, but I hope you recognize along with me that the framework of this process can be applied widely, and I believe has the capacity to greatly increase shalom, which is salvation, which is what Jesus as savior came to offer.

     In what areas of your life do you need the Shepherd to guide you to and through The Way that leads to healing and a more shalom-filled life?  Simply ask for help and be open, remembering that the Spirit of God so evident in Jesus led him to be a bridge, not a barrier, to God’s love and healing. Perhaps this song might woo you to the Savior...

Freeing Jesus: Teacher

Jesus, Rabbi. In the Gospels, Jesus is referred to as “rabbi.”  This title has caused some spirited academic debate.  John Dominic Crossan makes a case for the title being applied to Jesus posthumously, as had been done with other famous miracle-working Jewish men in his time.  Diana Butler Bass posits a related idea:

     The word typically translated as “teacher” was the title “rabbi” or “rabbouni,” a fairly new—and even revolutionary—term in the first century. The word “rabbi” did not mean a Jewish clergyperson, as it does today, nor did the title appear in the Hebrew Bible. Indeed, it was just coming into use during Jesus’s time for one whose teachings bore spiritual authority—a sage, a storyteller, an insightful interpreter of the Law, or a particularly wise elder. [According to scholars Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Z. Brettler] Jesus was the “earliest attested person in literature to bear the title ‘Rabbi’.”  (30)

     In Rob Bells’ short film, Nooma: Dust, he talks about what the rabbinical tradition looked like once it had developed: who was called to become disciples of a rabbi, and what it implied.  Knowing that the term rabbi was just coming into play during Jesus’ lifetime changes our understanding of the whole scene.  I’m not sure that kids literally memorized text line by line – perhaps they learned the major stories?  And since Jesus was one of the first identified in ancient literature, it seems unlikely that some of those traditions were in play during his lifetime.  Yet one aspect stuck with me: the rabbi’s invitation meant that the rabbi believed that his disciples could follow in his footsteps, that they could do what he did in time.  The writer of the Gospel of John has Jesus saying as much when he told his disciples, “I assure you that whoever believes in me will do the works that I do. They will do even greater works than these because I am going to the Father” (Jn 14:12 CEB).  I don’t think this has changed since the first disciples were called to follow.  I believe all who follow have the same capacity to be conduits of the love of God, anointed by the Spirit of God as did Jesus.  Our roles may different.  Our ministries may be different. Our gifts and skills may be different. Certainly, our context is different!  Yet what an extraordinary possibility that is proclaimed!

     What does that mean for us today, that we are endowed with the same Spirit that anointed Jesus, in order to follow in his footsteps?  How will we know what to do?  Jesus was more concerned about who we are and who we are becoming than giving us a task list (although he did give some very practical guidance as well).  As a sage, he wanted his disciples to think in order that we might more fully love:

     John A. T. Robinson, the Bishop of Woolwich in the Church of England, published a book called Honest to God, one of the bestselling and most widely read religion books of the twentieth century. Among many things the bishop criticized about Christianity was the church’s view that Jesus was a great spiritual teacher, a view, he said, that would result in powerless faith and always devolve into moralism (following a list of dos and don’ts). Instead, Robinson claimed that Jesus did not merely teach love; he embodied it. “Christ was utterly and completely ‘the man for others,’” he wrote, “because he was love.” Jesus did not issue rules to be ticked off on a list; Jesus embodied the rule of love, a way of life to be followed, and to be fully, completely human. (35)

     Jesus taught using parables.  Some people find them really annoying.  Too bad – they remain!  Consider the following selection of parables.  What meaning do you glean from them? How many ways do the parables apply to your life?

     The Parable of Cloth and Wineskins. “No one sews a piece of new, unshrunk cloth on old clothes because the patch tears away the cloth and makes a worse tear. No one pours new wine into old wineskins. If they did, the wineskins would burst, the wine would spill, and the wineskins would be ruined. Instead, people pour new wine into new wineskins so that both are kept safe.” – Mt. 9:14-17 (CEB)

     The Parable of the Soils.  He said many things to them in parables: “A farmer went out to scatter seed. As he was scattering seed, some fell on the path, and birds came and ate it. Other seed fell on rocky ground where the soil was shallow. They sprouted immediately because the soil wasn’t deep. But when the sun came up, it scorched the plants, and they dried up because they had no roots. Other seed fell among thorny plants. The thorny plants grew and choked them. Other seed fell on good soil and bore fruit, in one case a yield of one hundred to one, in another case a yield of sixty to one, and in another case a yield of thirty to one. Everyone who has ears should pay attention.” – Mt. 13:3-9 (CEB)

      The Parable of the Weeds.  “The kingdom of heaven is like someone who planted good seed in his field. While people were sleeping, an enemy came and planted weeds among the wheat and went away. When the stalks sprouted and bore grain, then the weeds also appeared.

     “The servants of the landowner came and said to him, ‘Master, didn’t you plant good seed in your field? Then how is it that it has weeds?’

     “‘An enemy has done this,’ he answered.

     “The servants said to him, ‘Do you want us to go and gather them?’

     “But the landowner said, ‘No, because if you gather the weeds, you’ll pull up the wheat along with them. Let both grow side by side until the harvest. And at harvesttime I’ll say to the harvesters, “First gather the weeds and tie them together in bundles to be burned. But bring the wheat into my barn.”’” – Mt. 13:24-33 (CEB)

     The Parable of the Mustard Seed.  He told another parable to them: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and planted in his field. It’s the smallest of all seeds. But when it’s grown, it’s the largest of all vegetable plants. It becomes a tree so that the birds in the sky come and nest in its branches.”

     The Parable of the Yeast.  He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast, which a woman took and hid in a bushel of wheat flour until the yeast had worked its way through all the dough.” – Mt. 13:31-33 (CEB)

     Parable of the Treasure.  “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure that somebody hid in a field, which someone else found and covered up. Full of joy, the finder sold everything and bought that field.

     Parable of the Merchant.  “Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls. When he found one very precious pearl, he went and sold all that he owned and bought it. – Mt. 13:44-46 (CEB)

     The Parable of the Good Samaritan.  A legal expert stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to gain eternal life?”

     Jesus replied, “What is written in the Law? How do you interpret it?”

     He responded, “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

     Jesus said to him, “You have answered correctly. Do this and you will live.”

     But the legal expert wanted to prove that he was right, so he said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

     Jesus replied, “A man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. He encountered thieves, who stripped him naked, beat him up, and left him near death. Now it just so happened that a priest was also going down the same road. When he saw the injured man, he crossed over to the other side of the road and went on his way. Likewise, a Levite came by that spot, saw the injured man, and crossed over to the other side of the road and went on his way. A Samaritan, who was on a journey, came to where the man was. But when he saw him, he was moved with compassion. The Samaritan went to him and bandaged his wounds, tending them with oil and wine. Then he placed the wounded man on his own donkey, took him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day, he took two full days’ worth of wages and gave them to the innkeeper. He said, ‘Take care of him, and when I return, I will pay you back for any additional costs.’ What do you think? Which one of these three was a neighbor to the man who encountered thieves?”

     Then the legal expert said, “The one who demonstrated mercy toward him.”

     Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” – Luke 10:25-37 (CEB)

On any and all of these, don’t limit yourself to the first answer that comes to mind.  The first thought might be especially relevant now but give yourself time to go deeper. For the rest of your life!  Jesus meant for us to mull these over again and again, knowing that we change over time and therefore the parables’ meaningful application will surely change as well.  We are always in process.

Unless otherwise noted, all quotes are from Diana Butler Bass’ book, Freeing Jesus: Rediscovering Jesus as Friend, Teacher, Savior, Lord, Way, and Presence. HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

Freeing Jesus: Friend

Note: This is part of a series based on the book, Freeing Jesus, by Diana Butler Bass.

     What comes to mind when you reflect on the subject of friendship?  Some have deep, fond memories from childhood when hours went by just playing together, often effortlessly.  Others have mixed associations with the word, friend, as they remember times when friendships fizzled, causing varying degrees of feeling despair, rejection, loss, and grief. Some, upon hearing the word, feel a tinge of loneliness as they manage to create a very short list of those in whom they would risk confiding (most Americans have only two such friends).  My hunch is that if you are a human being, you have experienced all of this and everything in between, and perhaps all at once. 

     Sometimes we don’t realize how important friendship is for experiencing a meaningful life until we find ourselves without it, even if for only a short while.  The longer we go without it, the more it can mess with how we see the world and value ourselves.  We are made to give and receive love, after all, and without friendship, we will struggle to express the giving or receiving and feel its absence more acutely. Or maybe this is just my experience?

     Jesus was into reversals. His experience of God led him to view everyone as deeply valued, worthy of honor, respect, and love.  He treated those that the world’s systems disdained with dignity, lifting them out of their despair and loneliness into acceptance and inclusion. This was even evident in the disciples Jesus chose – a bunch of ragamuffins, everyday people.  He was even criticized for fraternizing with the “wrong” people by religious authorities (see Luke 7:34).

     Jesus took the vision to the deepest levels:

     At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

     Then he called a little child over to sit among the disciples, and said, “I assure you that if you don’t turn your lives around and become like this little child, you will definitely not enter the kingdom of heaven. Those who humble themselves like this little child will be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me. - Matthew 18:1-5.  Translation: Common English Bible (CEB)

     At that time in history in that part of the world, children had few rights and were generally not welcome to be seen or heard, especially with someone of renown like Jesus.  His welcoming and highlighting a child would have raised eyebrows and caused some to walk away.

     According to the Gospel of John, near the end of his life, Jesus changed the paradigm of his relationship with his followers:

          “I’ve loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love. If you keep my commands, you’ll remain intimately at home in my love. That’s what I’ve done—kept my Father’s commands and made myself at home in his love.

     “I’ve told you these things for a purpose: that my joy might be your joy, and your joy wholly mature. This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you. This is the very best way to love. Put your life on the line for your friends. You are my friends when you do the things I command you. I’m no longer calling you servants because servants don’t understand what their master is thinking and planning. No, I’ve named you friends because I’ve let you in on everything I’ve heard from the Father.

     “You didn’t choose me, remember; I chose you, and put you in the world to bear fruit, fruit that won’t spoil. As fruit bearers, whatever you ask the Father in relation to me, he gives you.

     “But remember the root command: Love one another. – John 15:9-17.  Translation: The Message (MSG)

     This idea of friendship with their leader was liberating and unnerving all at once.  Liberating because to equality it afforded. Unnerving because it removed the transactional element of most relationships at that time.  Yet friendship with God was something to be esteemed in the Jewish tradition, even if only a few were ever given such a title (Abraham and Moses).  Scholars recognize  Jesus’ use of Abba as his preferred image of God, even instructing his disciples to address God similarly in the model prayer: Our Father...  Yet the English word, Father, has a sense of formality that does not reflect Jesus’ intent.  Abba meant more of the equivalent of “daddy”, or even “friend.”

     How do you feel about the idea of addressing and relating to God as your friend?

     What do you think about Jesus’ remembered statement that “we are his friends when we do the things Jesus commands?”  Does that mean we are no longer on invite list when we don’t?  No.  When Jesus made such a statement – especially when taken in the context of loving one another – we recognize the empowerment the paradigm was providing. To be a friend is not simply to receive, but to also give friendship.  While being a servant may require one to serve, there exists no equality or friendship in that relationship – service is expected.  In the vision Jesus is casting, we who follow do so motivated by the love we’ve been given. Our decision to love is completely voluntary. When we love others, we are simply doing what friends do.

     Being a friend of God matters to God and the world.  As St. Teresa of Avila noted, “God has no hands but yours... Yours are the hands with which God blesses all the world.”  We who have been deeply loved by God are called to deeply love the world.  There is no Plan B. If we view ourselves as mere servants of God, this may feel like a massive burden. If, however, we see it through the lens of Jesus, we recognize what a gift this is, as we get to be conduits of love in the world, supercharged with the flow of the Spirit of God in and around every friendly pursuit. In my experience, acts of lovingkindness become their own reward – we experience more love when we love more.

     I recently received an email from a guy who was in my cabin when I was a camp counselor decades ago.  He thanked me, essentially, for being a good friend when he really needed it. It blessed his life. In thanking me and reminding me of that time, it blessed me.  Considering this experience, I wonder who has been a good friend to you? When did you last tell them? How about shooting them a text or message or notecard today?

     There have been times when I needed a friend to simply listen to me to help me process some ugly stuff I was going through.  It really helped to just have someone listen without needing to offer their commentary or fix things.  Do you know anybody who could use your undivided, attentive listening? Are you the person who needs that kind of friend right now? Have you let a friend know so that they can befriend you?  It’s not a burden!

     How have you shifted way from a servant mindset in your relationship with God to one that is friendship oriented? What keeps you from making that jump? What would it look like for your relationship with God to resemble any other loving friendship?  Maybe a first step is to start you prayer with “Dear God, my Friend...”

Need a little help getting in the friendship groove? Maybe this playlist will help.

Living Easter

Imagine attending a dinner party with some good friends.  After everyone takes a seat, one of your friends reads an ancient story that caught their attention. It was titled, “The Resurrection of Jesus according to the Gospel of John”:

     Early in the morning of the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. She ran to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they’ve put him.” Peter and the other disciple left to go to the tomb. They were running together, but the other disciple ran faster than Peter and was the first to arrive at the tomb. Bending down to take a look, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he didn’t go in. Following him, Simon Peter entered the tomb and saw the linen cloths lying there. He also saw the face cloth that had been on Jesus’ head. It wasn’t with the other clothes but was folded up in its own place. Then the other disciple, the one who arrived at the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. They didn’t yet understand the scripture that Jesus must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to the place where they were staying.

     Mary stood outside near the tomb, crying. As she cried, she bent down to look into the tomb. She saw two angels dressed in white, seated where the body of Jesus had been, one at the head and one at the foot. The angels asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”

She replied, “They have taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they’ve put him.” As soon as she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she didn’t know it was Jesus.

     Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who are you looking for?”

     Thinking he was the gardener, she replied, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him and I will get him.”

     Jesus said to her, “Mary.”

     She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabbouni” (which means Teacher).

     Jesus said to her, “Don’t hold on to me, for I haven’t yet gone up to my Father. Go to my brothers and sisters and tell them, ‘I’m going up to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”

     Mary Magdalene left and announced to the disciples, “I’ve seen the Lord.” Then she told them what he said to her. – John 20:1-18 (CEB)

     Your friend wonders what your take is on it.  What is your take on it?  I would guess that some of you who grew up in this church, given it’s Fundamentalist and Evangelical roots, simply take the story as a factual account of the events that happened.  Back in the day, this church would advocate a view of the Bible as essentially the literal word of God, to be viewed as inerrant (without error) and infallible (incapable of being wrong). To question the veracity of the story was to question God, which could jeopardize God’s acceptance of you.  Some of you have come into this church over the last 25 years, however, and have learned that giving the Bible serious thought isn’t only okay, it is encouraged! Wondering how to read, interpret, and apply it to life here and now is a very Jesus thing to do.  You have learned over the years to consider the historical context, the biases that are present, and our own biases as we read what is being presented to us. You have learned that taking the Bible seriously is much more important and mature than taking it literally.

     Some of you are on the other end of the spectrum, not having had much exposure to the Christian tradition and its stories.  You hear this story and have lots of questions.  You may hear this story and say to yourself that it sounds like folklore from a time in history long gone by when God lived in a literal heaven above the earth and broke onto the earth’s scene from time to time. You may chuckle at the very idea of a person being more than resuscitated after being dead for thirty-six hours or so. Resurrection is different than resuscitation – the latter is a transformation, not just getting back the heartbeat.  Your friend may ask if you think it’s true. You pause. You should. The science-minded part of you strongly questions the veracity of the story on its face.  Yet another part of you wonders if the definition of truth itself should be left to the scientific method.

     Recent movies you’ve enjoyed come to mind, like Oppenheimer, where you faced the complexity of nuclear energy and warfare in a world of war, power, and politics. A lot of truth told in that film.  You think of other films that are not based on historical figures but are fictional creations. Your mind turns to Star Wars. You remember that, woven in with the Sci-Fi adventure are stories of the human experience: lust for power, coming home to personal identity, giving allegiance to Empire or the Resistance, to the Dark Side or the Force. Pure fiction, yet a lot of truth resides in those films.

     Since it’s an Easter story, you try to lighten the tone by asking if we should believe in the Easter Bunny, too? Everyone snickers. While you may struggle to believe in a rabbit that lays eggs and delivers candy and chocolate monuments to itself, you may remember egg hunts and waking up to said candy and chocolate bunnies.  There was meaning conveyed there, and it was all about love. Love given and received. Easter’s demarcation of Spring’s arrival is a reminder that we may experience winter’s death in many forms yet hope for life to come triumphantly remains!

     When we consider the Easter story, we can sometimes get distracted by our need for literalness.  I encourage you to embrace the idea that the meaning of the story lies beyond such a need.  Truths are being conveyed by the writer of John’s Gospel. It would be a shame to miss the gifts because we don’t like the packaging or the wrapping.

     There are a couple of really interesting things to note. First, in John’s telling of the Easter story, Mary Magdalene is the first person to discover the empty tomb, the first person to experience the mysterious resurrection of Jesus, and the first one to proclaim all three.  She is the first Apostle of Christ! Don’t tell churches that forbid women to hold roles of authority – this could ruin everything for them!  As historian Diana Butler Bass shared, the more appropriate title for Mary for a range of reasons should not be “the Magdalene”, but Mary the Tower. She towered in her faith and character and influence – just as much or more than the disciple, Peter.  In fact, she is unwaveringly strong in John’s Gospel compared to the foot-in-mouth, Jesus-denying “Rock”.  She is a rock star worthy of much more attention than she has received.

     Second, she and the other disciples all had weird mystical experiences of the resurrected Jesus. The laws of physics were ignored. Jesus didn’t look like Jesus, but they somehow were convinced that it was Jesus. A little later, Jesus prepared a fish breakfast for some of his disciples after they spent a long night catching nothing – until Jesus instructed them to try once more, yielding a massive haul.  What do we do with such things?  I believe in mystical experiences – namely because I experience them! I believe Jesus had such profound experiences that it altered the course of his life, reshaped his theology, and emboldened him to teach, pull off some healings somehow, and challenge the power structures of his day – as a peasant!

     While I affirm such experiences, I also believe they need to be held carefully and thoughtfully, because I think such events say as much or more about the one experiencing the mystical event as it does the source or message of the event.  If we never experience anything we might define as mystical, I don’t think it means anything significant. And I think if we do, we shouldn’t give it too much significance – glean the highly contextualized truth and move forward.  We need to treat our own experiences just like we might scripture: evaluate the context very carefully as we strive to understand, interpret, and apply mystical experiences to our lives.  As Christians, our lens and standard is always Jesus’s unwavering commitment to love and grace.  Shalom is the deeply rich Jewish word for this. Love in its deep complexities is probably the best we can do in English.  If our interpretations don’t pass the love sniff test, we need to keep on thinking...  I am sure that current, divisive issues exist in the hearts of Christians right now in our country and even in Napa.  At the end of the day, if we aren’t aligned with shalom, deep love for everyone and everything, we’re not aligned with Jesus or the Spirit he embodied.  Which leads me to how I am engaging the Easter Story today.

     What captivates me most (this year) about the Easter stories that conclude the Gospel is what was instructed.  In various ways, Jesus instructed those who experienced him to move forward in love.  Mary was told to let the disciples know about what she had experienced – the act of proclaiming, sharing the news of what happened, is an act of love. The breathy giving and receiving of the Holy Spirit as an empowering act of love (and its own mystical experience to be sure).  Full of the Spirit, Jesus told them what to do with it: spread grace. The divine is all about the flow of love and grace. Human beings have trouble with this, however, and tend to kink the hose, so to speak, blocking the flow of grace. The job of these newly appointed apostles is to unkink the hose wherever there might be a block, starting, perhaps, in their own hearts.  Living in this love, fostering this love wherever we are, is what Jesus talked about when we spoke of eternal life. As pastor and author Mark Feldmeir notes:

     The ancient Hebrews, Jesus, Paul—they also spoke of a realm, a place, a dimension of God’s creation that transcends this world, where all is as God intends it to be. It’s a realm where that age to come is already happening. On earth as is it is in heaven, we pray, because that shalom of God is happening. It’s not just an aim. It’s a present reality. Somewhere—in some dimension of space we cannot see or touch, in some dimension of time we cannot measure. But not even Jesus told us exactly what it looks like, how it works, where it is, or what form it takes. Jesus spoke of heaven and the afterlife almost exclusively in parables and allegories. He told stories that conceived of heaven not as a place, but as an experience. He often likened that experience to attending a wedding feast, or a party, or a banquet. There are fifteen allusions in the Gospels in which Jesus speaks of eternal life as a party-like experience, most of which suggest that God’s invitation list is long and not nearly as exclusive as we might expect. Everyone is invited to God’s party. Anyone can attend God’s banquet—both the good and the not-so-good. Only many will choose not to attend for various reasons: some have work to finish or businesses to run; others have already committed to attending someone else’s party; still others have scheduling conflicts or an assortment of other very excellent excuses; and a small handful are sadly just too burned out, like lamps that have simply run out of oil. (Feldmeir, Mark. Life after God: Finding Faith When You Can't Believe Anymore (p. 216). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.)

     Feldmeir noted that even though we like to think of God as a judge, Jesus only offered one parable using that metaphor.  In that scene, the ones who received the reward of heaven were the ones that showed love in a multitude of ways.  We would be wise to focus more and more on how we might welcome and even help host such “parties” in our life here and now than worrying much about the one post-grave.  In fact, I am sure that when we attend to the former, we won’t worry much at all about the latter.

     A final scene in John’s remembrance has Jesus reminding Peter that love is everything, and is worth everything, even if it brings about personal suffering.  The bottom-line reality of the human experience is that there will be suffering on multiple levels throughout our lives.  Yet God meets us with love even in our suffering, and even helps redeem it.  A CrossWalker shared her story with me, one that reflects Easter’s hope:

     This past fall after over a year of trying for baby #2, my partner and I were filled with happiness when we found out we were pregnant!  We immediately started planning for what our new life was going to look like now that our family was growing.  We were going to need a bigger house. A bigger car, etc.  But none of that mattered because we were going to have our angel that we have been trying for, for so long.  After 8 long weeks, we finally made it to our first ultrasound appointment.  We had waited very impatiently (at least on my end) to get to see our little baby on that black and white screen.  We held each other's hands as the image of our newest member came into focus.  Unfortunately, our excitement was short lived.  " I'm so sorry" says my doctor, " But I don't see a heartbeat."  We had lost our baby we had prayed so hard for.  Even now as I write this, I can still hear her words as clear as they were the day she said them to me.  And they still hurt just as much. 

     A week after that appointment I had to have a procedure to help me move forward after the miscarriage.  I was now dealing with both the emotional and physical trauma from losing my baby.  A week after my procedure I unexpectedly had to say goodbye to my cat of 17 years.  She was my emotional support when things were difficult.  And in those 2 weeks, my life had never been so hard.  But it was her time to go, and I had to accept that.  That was the piece that broke me.  It broke whatever bit of spirit I had left in me to try and put on a happy face for my family and friends. 

     Over the next few weeks, I found it hard to find a reason to get out of bed.  Nothing made me happy.  I was riddled with anxiety that something else bad was going to happen to me, because how could it not. That anxiety would soon turn into panic attacks anytime I left my house.  I no longer recognized the person in the mirror.  I was consumed by my grief and pain.  I couldn't sleep at night because every time I would lay my head down all the thoughts that I was trying to ignore throughout the day were now screaming at me for attention.  The only place I could somewhat quiet my mind was laying on the floor next to my son's bed.  Hearing him breathe and knowing he was okay, somehow made me feel okay.  Night after night I would lay on his floor, listening to him breathe while I prayed with what little energy and strength I had left, for God to please help me through this time in my life.  Please help me through this because I don't know how to survive this season in my life.  I prayed for God to give me strength to fight for a life I didn't know how to live.  I prayed for God to love me enough so I can someday love myself again because I, like a lot of mothers, blamed myself for the miscarriage.  I prayed for the anxiety and panic attacks to stop.  I prayed for the fear that something bad was going to happen to me or my son if I left the house to stop.  I prayed for God to show me how to take all this pain and sadness and continue to live my life.  And slowly but with absolute and undeniable certainty, God did. 

     Each day God placed things in my path that made my pain ease a bit more.  Made my anxiety a little less than the day before.  I talked with God, some days all day, every day.  But most days multiple times throughout the day.  God quite literally carried me when I could not carry myself.  And before I knew it, I was living a life that was free from panic attacks and free from anxiety.  I know that the grief from losing my baby will never fully go away, but it is no longer so white hot that I cannot touch it.  It is now at a place where I can approach it, hold it, and appreciate it for what it is.  I know in my heart with unquestionable conviction, that the one and only reason I made it through the absolute darkest and lowest season of my life, is God and God’s love for me.  There was no way I alone could have pulled myself out of that deep and dark hole of grief I had fallen in.  And now, I am closer to God than I have ever been in my entire life.  I pray to God differently.  I experience God differently.  I see God’s beauty, grace, and love in everyday miracles that I didn't before.  The color of flowers.  The birds singing.  The clouds moving across the sun as it rises.  The stars in the sky at night.  Things that I always looked at but never really stopped to look at it through the eyes of God as gifts to us.  Now, I see God’s love for us everywhere.  As painful as it was to go through that season in my life, it has brought me closer to God than I've ever been, and I am thankful for how I see the world now.  

     This CrossWalker’s story is what living Easter looks like.  Death experienced with great pain, yet life breaking forth in new, unexpected ways by the love of God. When we choose love in its depths, we experience more love, spread more love, and open ourselves to the very source of love, and create more love in the world that we will one day leave behind as we ourselves are welcomed into the heart of love itself.  Love is worth it.

     May you find wonder anew this Easter. May you have room to engage this story beyond the literal. May you be open to the “more” that is always in and around us. Most of all, may you feel loved, strengthened by love, in order to love.

SALT Commentary: Easter Sunday (Year B): John 20:1-18 and Mark 16:1-8

Check out SALT’s “Strange New World” podcast episode on these passages, “Understanding Easter - Part Seven: Rethinking Easter.”

Big Picture:

1) Easter Sunday! Today begins the season of Eastertide, fifty days of celebrating Jesus’ resurrection, all the way to Pentecost — outpacing the forty days of Lent, and at the same time making up roughly one seventh of the entire year, in effect a “sabbath” writ large for the year as a whole. The resurrection is so great a mystery, and calls for so grand a celebration, that merely one day won’t do.

2) Easter Sunday! At the outset of Luke’s Gospel, the priest Zechariah (Elizabeth’s hubby and John the Baptizer’s dad) sings a song known today as the “Benedictus,” including the line: “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:78-79). Now — at last — that dawn has come!

3) But dawn is not the day. Easter Sunday is only the beginning: Jesus’ resurrection is the “first fruits” of the harvest, an encouraging glimpse of what’s ahead (compare 1 Cor 15:20-23). But “what’s ahead,” by definition, isn’t yet here. We call it “dawn” because its rays of light break through the shadows — but it’s also true that for the time being, the shadows remain. Accordingly, Easter comes not as the solution to creation’s problems but rather as profound assurance that a new, irrevocable era has begun — and in the end, love, and justice, shalom and joy, will have the final word. The sun will rise!

4) And sure enough, shadows are everywhere today. Violence, despair, rancor, war, and rumors of war… But this fifty-day season of Eastertide presents an opportunity: redoubling our commitment to create a graceful, peaceful, beautiful world in which all may live and thrive.

Scripture:

1) Ask ten Christians why the women come to the tomb that Easter morning, and nine will tell you that they bring spices to anoint Jesus’ corpse — but that’s not the story John tells. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus have already wrapped the body in linen, myrrh, and aloes, and when Mary Magdalene arrives alone before dawn, she has no spices in tow (John 19:38-42).

2) Why does she come? Is it sheer grief, a longing to be close to Jesus, even in death? Or is she concerned that Jesus’ body, already disgraced in mockery, torture, and crucifixion, will be degraded even further — even stolen? Or is she holding out hope-against-hope that what he said in his last public teaching (“when I am lifted up from the earth“ (John 12:32)) somehow means that death is not this story’s final chapter? Or some combination of these motives?

3) We can’t know for sure, of course, but in any case, the story resonates with a longstanding theme in the Bible’s library: women as bold, resourceful, tenacious defenders of life and of the dignity and honor of the human body. Shiphrah and Puah, for example, the midwives who shrewdly subvert Pharaoh’s order to kill Hebrew children (Exodus 1:15-21). Or Rizpah, Saul’s widow, who camps out on a hillside beside her dead sons’ corpses for something like six months, day after day, night after night, defending their bodies against scavenging birds and animals (2 Samuel 21:10-14). Or indeed the women who stay near Jesus even after most of the male disciples have scattered in fear: in John’s telling, “his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene”; and in Mark’s telling, “Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome” (John 19:25; Mark 15:40).

4) Mary Magdalene initially draws the conclusion that Jesus’ body has been moved — but the presence of the linen wrappings and face covering suggest otherwise, since anyone who moved the body would have no reason to remove the linens, much less neatly “roll up” the face covering. Peter sees the scene and apparently doesn’t know what to think; “the other disciple” sees “and believed”; and the two men return to their homes (John 20:8-9).

5) Only Mary stays behind. She’s weeping, so she seems to have drawn the conclusion that, as she puts it to the two angels, “They have taken away my Lord” — perhaps revealing the fear that brought her to the tomb in the first place (John 20:13). She then mistakes Jesus for the gardener, only recognizing him when he calls her by name — a clear echo of Jesus’ teaching that the Good Shepherd “calls his own sheep by name… they know his voice” (John 10:3-4).

6) The garden setting itself evokes the Garden of Eden, as if the story of salvation has come full circle, redeeming the original gardeners, Adam and Eve, divinely called to “till and keep” the garden (Gen 2:15).

7) Jesus’ words to Mary frame what is happening not as resurrection alone, but rather as resurrection-for-the-sake-of-ascension: “I am ascending… to my God and your God” (John 20:17). Just as he had promised in his last public teaching, he is ascending, and drawing his followers — and indeed “all people” — with him: “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (John 12:32). In other words, the resurrection, astounding as it is, isn’t an end. It’s a new beginning.

Takeaways:

1) It’s Easter Sunday, but the readings from John and Mark are hardly simple stories of triumph. Today is only the beginning — and rightly so, since a mystery as fathomless as Easter can only begin on a single day, beckoning us to enter into its depths and riches for the fifty-day season to follow, and beyond.

2) Accordingly, Mary Magdalene arrives on “early the first day of the week,” a poetic turn suggesting a new start (John 20:1). Thus Easter Sunday is not the end of Lent — it’s the beginning of Eastertide, and in a deeper sense, the beginning of Christian life, a life lived in the light of God’s resurrection. The trumpets and lilies signal not a final victory, then, but a commencement, a launch, a kickoff — a dawn of a new day.

3) And this morning twilight still has plenty of shadows, and wounds (Jesus rises, please note, as a still-wounded savior), and struggles, and fears (Mark 16:8). Indeed, if our first reaction to a report of resurrection is cynicism or skepticism, we’re in good company. Some among Jesus’ own disciples, the ones who arguably knew him best, initially refuse to believe. And as we’ll see in the weeks ahead, Easter faith is often a mix of trust and doubt, belief, and disbelief. For after all, there are at least two ways to miss a miracle: first, to dismiss it, to reject it too readily, as if astonishing things never happen; and second, to domesticate it, to accept it too readily, as if it isn’t astonishing at all.

4) Key women in the story, however — Mary Magdelene in John, and the two Marys and Salome in Mark — refuse to withdraw, whatever doubts or despair they may feel. They stay close. They bear witness. Like their ancestors, Rizpah, Shiphrah, and Puah, they insist on honoring and protecting Jesus’ body. And eventually, as John tells it, Mary Magdalene proclaims the mystery: “I have seen the Lord” (John 20:18). She is the original apostle, staying with Jesus on the cross, coming to the tomb before dawn, and in the end, declaring the good news. To anyone who argues that women should not be leaders in the Christian church at the highest levels, the Easter stories in all four Gospels together stand as a luminous, devastating reply.   

5) Easter Sunday! What’s the good news of the Gospel today? For those who despair that death-dealing powers have the upper hand — fear not. Easter means God ultimately is and will be victorious over the powers of death. For those who feel isolated and lonely — fear not. Easter means we are all together in the risen Body of Christ, even if we’re separated in time or space. For those who despair that our guilt is too great for God to forgive — fear not. Easter means God has cleared all accounts, liberating humanity from shame, reconciling us to God and each other as God’s children. For those who despair in the midst of pain or anguish — take heart. You are not alone: Jesus suffers with you in solidarity and companionship, and Easter means you will rise with him. For those who despair over a world filled with hate, violence, and scapegoating — be encouraged. In Christ’s passion, God has taken the place of the scapegoat in order to expose humanity’s violent ways — and Easter means God one day will overcome violence once and for all. Indeed, Easter means that God has taken one of the worst things in the world (the Roman cross) and remade it into one of the best (the Tree of Life), a sword into a ploughshare — and if the worst, then also the whole creation in the end! Like the cross, the empty tomb is a great divine mystery, a rising sun dispelling shadows in multiple directions. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Check out SALT’s “Strange New World” podcast episode on these passages, “Understanding Easter - Part Seven: Rethinking Easter.”

Palm Sunday through Good Friday: Life in a Week

The last week in the life of Jesus represents the fullness of life in a week for all human beings.  It begins with celebration and rejoicing and the highest of hopes, witnesses beautiful moments of community, but also includes conflict, desperate loneliness, severe suffering, death, and grief.  Philosopher Alfred North Whitehead noted that life itself is perpetual perishing. We avoid this truth, but it is, in fact, true.  Yet there is inherent hope in this story if we truly believe that the presence of God is inextricably woven into the experience of everything that exists.  Panentheism suggests that since everything is in God, then God experiences everything with us.  God is not removed from us and therefore is affected by our experience.  Because God is literally living with us, God fully understands everything we go through, and is with us in every single one of those perpetually perishing moments.  Many take comfort from knowing that if Jesus experienced great suffering then “he gets us”.  God is equally present with us as well. I think God gets us more than we do!

     As we engage the story beginning with Palm Sunday and ending with Good Friday, choose to embrace it as our shared human story.  Choose to “feel the feels” all the way through – not just imagining the experiences of the characters in the story but how they mirror your own.  As you allow yourself to be vulnerable, to embody the story, know you are not alone.  Every human being goes through their version of the same dynamics. Yet God is with us, experiencing it all with us, every single breath. With us.

Reflection Questions

1.         What is one of your most cherished moments in your life? Why? What feelings were you holding? Was the main focus on you or someone else? How does that make a difference?

2.         When have you had a really, really heavy, important conversation? What made it heavy? What feelings were you holding?

3.         When have you felt betrayed, sold out, or rejected? Have you ever been the betrayer or the rejector?  What feelings were you holding?

4.         When have you felt utterly mistreated? When have you felt alone? When have you been the recipient of injustice? Have you ever been the one who mistreated another? Of causing someone to feel alone? Of been the agent of injustice?  What feelings were you holding?

5.         How does this claim impact you: God genuinely experiences all facets of life with us, affected along with us.

Feeling words. Positive, happy, hopeful, stressed, nervous, tense, anxious, determined, glad, worried, insecure, confused, proud, safe, bored, tired, hurt, eager, angry, excited, irritated, disappointed, content, negative, annoyed, inspired, grateful, unhappy, frustrated, furious, calm, strong, neutral, regretful, lonely, low, confident, restless, surprised, relieved, scared, trapped, alive, guilty, bitter, shocked, sad, energetic, overwhelmed, unsure.

Commentary from SALT: Palm/Passion Sunday (Year B): Mark 11:1-11 and Mark 14:1-15:47

Check out SALT’s “Strange New World” podcast episodes on these passages: “Understanding Easter - Part Six: The Challenge of Palm Sunday,” and “Understanding Easter - Part Two: Ten Ways of Looking at the Cross.”

Big Picture:

1) Palm Sunday commemorates Jesus’ jubilant entry into Jerusalem, essentially a piece of street theater dramatizing Zechariah’s ancient prophecy: the long-awaited divine monarch arrives on a humble donkey, announcing “peace to the nations” (Zech 9:9-10). Shout hosanna! The new era, the Great Jubilee, has begun!

2) Passion Sunday, on the other hand, tells the story of Jesus’ suffering and death, anticipating that at least some won’t observe Maundy Thursday and/or Good Friday later in the week — and so, rather than skip directly from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday (“Hosanna!” to “Alleluia!”), some devote this Sunday to reflecting on Jesus’ journey to the cross.

3) Passion Sunday often omits (or only briefly mentions) the story of Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem, in part because of the stark difference in mood between the jubilant parade and the somber Via Dolorosa (“Way of Sorrows”). But this contrast and tension is at the heart of the overall story: the one betrayed and deserted in the passion is none other than the one hailed as the long-awaited divine monarch — as the Palm Sunday account, with its exuberant echoes of Zechariah, makes vividly clear. So far from emotional whiplash, then, the descent from “Hosanna!” to “Crucify him!” is essential to the Gospel. Indeed, as Mark tells it, Jesus moves immediately from the joy of the procession to the anger of cleansing the temple (Mark 11:1-19).

4) Whatever approach is taken, the main thing is to remember that Holy Week is a kind of choreography or symphony, with distinct emotional movements unfolding over time: from “Hosanna in the highest!” to “Surely not I, Lord?” to “Take, eat; this is my body” to “Let this cup pass from me” to “I do not know the man!” to “Let him be crucified!” to “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” to “He is not here; for he has been raised.” One way or another, these movements require time and space to be felt and understood, and so letting the symphony play out over the course of a week is ideal. One approach is to make services available during the week for those who can access them; and at the same time, to provide a home-based practice for prayer and reflection.

5) Imagine, for example, a home-based Tenebrae Wreath (“tenebrae” means “shadows”), a sort of Advent Wreath in reverse: four candles in a circle with a Paschal candle in the middle, extinguished one by one. Sunday night: beginning with only the Paschal candle lit, read Mark’s story of Palm Sunday, and then light all four candles in hope, peace, joy, and love. Thursday night: read Mark’s story of the Last Supper, and extinguish one candle; then read Mark’s story of Gethsemane, and extinguish a second. Friday night: read Mark’s story of Peter’s denials and desertion, and extinguish a third candle; then read Mark’s story of Jesus’ suffering, and extinguish the fourth; and then finally, read Mark’s story of Jesus’ death, and extinguish the Paschal candle. Saturday, the wreath remains unlit and bare, perhaps shrouded with cloth. And Sunday morning, the shroud is gone and all candles are lit, with a few more tealight candles added — along with some flowers and Easter sweets! Read Mark’s story of the empty tomb, and sing your favorite Easter hymn (or two).

Here’s SALT’s printable (or eReader) resource along these lines: “Holy Week Tenebrae: A Home-Based Devotional.”  For 20% off at checkout, enter coupon code: SPRINGLOVE2024

Scripture:

1) Jesus’ arrival from the Mount of Olives isn’t incidental: this route is also an enactment of Zechariah’s vision, since God was expected to arrive via the Mount of Olives on the “day of the LORD” and become monarch “over all the earth” (Zech 14:4-9). The point is that Mark goes out of his way to underscore that Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem bears all the marks of Zechariah’s ancient promise: the new era is dawning!

2) Why palm branches? Because they iconically evoke the celebratory Feast of Booths (Hebrew Sukkot, rhymes with “new-COAT”), during which worshipers processed around the temple altar, rejoicing by waving branches in accordance with God’s instructions to Moses: “you shall take the fruit of majestic trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees…and you shall rejoice before God for seven days… You shall live in booths [temporary shelters made of leafy branches] for seven days…so that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Leviticus 23:40-43). In other words, the palm branches recall the exodus and signal the people’s joyful hopes that, like Moses, Jesus will lead a New Exodus and deliver them from bondage. And likewise, by “spreading their cloaks on the road,” the crowds signal that they recognize Jesus as royalty (compare 2 Kings 9:13; Zech 9:9).

3) Why do the city’s crowds turn on Jesus so soon, after just a few days? For those who understood the “day of the LORD” as a time of military conquest and fantastic prosperity, it wouldn’t take long to decide that the rabbi from Nazareth is a disappointing imposter (particularly after he’s seized and imprisoned by the Romans). But Jesus has an even deeper, more enduring form of liberation in mind…

4) Reading Mark’s passion narrative from ten thousand feet, at least three things stand out.  First, Jesus’ identity as a healer and teacher, the Child of God, the Messiah, the long-awaited divine monarch whose arrival will usher in a new era, a New Exodus, a Great Jubilee — but who initially is met with rejection by Jerusalem, just as many prophets before him were rejected. Second, Jesus responds to this violence with nonviolence, though he is mocked and abused by authorities and bandits alike, abandoned by his friends, and even feels abandoned by God (Mark 15:34). And third, Jesus’ work culminates not with his death but with his resurrection (“and after three days rise again,” Mark 8:31). While the cross is essential to this choreography, for Mark, the resurrection is the focal point of Jesus’ saving mission: the Way of Life cannot and will not be stopped by the powers of death, and that good news fully emerges not when Jesus breathes his last, but when he leaves the tomb behind: “he is not here” (Mark 16:6).

Takeaways:

1) Palms or Passion — or both? While any of these options can work, the more the Gospel’s symphonic character is honored, the better: the story has movements, each with its own emotional depth, and often in contrast and tension with what precedes or follows. Traditionally, the “passion narrative” often begins with the solemnity of the Last Supper — but beginning instead with the joyful entry into Jerusalem makes theological sense, since Zechariah’s vision clarifies the stakes (Behold, the long-awaited One! The new era, the Great Jubilee, has begun!). And it’s this soaring vision, too, that both underscores the story’s tragic character and provides a dose of celebrative hope before we descend into the shadows.

2) Speaking of shadows: entering Holy Week raises the question of how we should understand the cross. As a starting point, it’s worth remembering that the Christian church has never called an official ecumenical council to settle this question, as it has with regard to other key doctrinal matters (say, the precise nature of the Incarnation). On the contrary, our ancestors deemed it wise to keep the mystery of the cross open to various interpretations, no single one of which has the corner on the truth. Over the centuries, several understandings of the cross have emerged and gathered support, and churches today do well to lift them up in all their insight and variety — the better to keep the cross accessible from multiple directions.

3) For some, the cross-and-empty-tomb represents God’s victory over the world’s death-dealing powers. For others, Jesus’ passion represents God “paying the price” for sin once and for all, liberating humanity from guilt and shame. Others argue that Jesus’ suffering testifies to God’s solidarity with all who suffer today, physically, mentally, or emotionally, offering divine companionship and hope in the midst of anguish. Still others emphasize how the story functions as an illuminating critique of human hatred, violence, and scapegoating, or as a moving portrait of God’s merciful love, even to the point of death. Others contend that the heart of the story is God’s creative, subversive redemption, transforming one of the worst things in the world (the Roman cross) into one of the best (the Tree of Life), thereby proclaiming God’s intention to redeem the whole creation in the end. And others, of course, combine two or more of these perspectives. The overarching point here is that the divine mystery of the cross is a kind of cathedral, an architecture with many entrances — and to insist on one avenue alone is to deny the hospitality and richness of God’s redemptive work. (To go deeper along these lines, here’s SALT’s Holy Week devotional, “Understanding the Cross.”)

The Cross

Death and public speaking.  Both cause people a lot of anxiety.  One of them can be avoided.  As a pastor, I have presided over hundreds of funerals and memorial services in my nearly 30 years of ministry.  What is incredible to me is the overwhelming evidence that part of Christianity’s message has fully become enculturated given popular beliefs about what happens after we die.  Pretty much without exception, when people gather to honor the life and passing of their loved ones, they confidently talk about them going to heaven where they will be reunited with their already departed loved ones.  Further, they talk about seeing them again someday when they themselves die.  There is confidence in heaven’s existence and God’s grace for themselves and the people they love.  This is remarkable.

     Jesus and his disciples never would have  heard such things at funerals they attended. The afterlife was fuzzy at best, mostly dealing with the eschaton.  The idea of God welcoming people with a warm hug simply didn’t exist in popular culture.  What changed?  What message was so pervasive that pop culture 2,000 years later would view it so differently?  The short answer: the cross.

     Paul had this to say in his letter to the church in Rome (and much more along the same lines):

     While we were still weak, at the right moment, Christ died for ungodly people. It isn’t often that someone will die for a righteous person, though maybe someone might dare to die for a good person. But God shows his love for us, because while we were still sinners Christ died for us. So, now that we have been made righteous by his blood, we can be even more certain that we will be saved from God’s wrath through him. If we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son while we were still enemies, now that we have been reconciled, how much more certain is it that we will be saved by his life? And not only that: we even take pride in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, the one through whom we now have a restored relationship with God.– Romans 5:6-11 CEB

     This is part of what is known as Evangelicalism’s Roman Road: all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God; the wages of sin is death; while we were still sinning, Christ died for us; all who call on the name of the Lord will be saved.  The takeaway message from the guy telling you this on your doorstep after he asks if you know where you’re going to spend eternity: Say yes to Jesus or suffer eternal death.

     Fear is a very powerful, effective tool. Ask any politician, since it is the primary tool they employ in their advertising and campaign trails.  Our lizard brains activate and try to avoid dying.  The question we are posed: why would a holy God let us into heaven? What right do we have to be in such a perfect space given all the horrible things we’ve done, including eating cookies before dinner, and binging too much Netflix?  What could we possibly do to make it up to God?  The answer in this framework: absolutely nothing.  There is no offering big enough to tip the scales in our favor – we’re just that nasty... 

     The good news is that God took care of this for us out of love and grace.  He had his son – perfect in every way, even more so than Mary Poppins – suffer death on the cross as a final sacrifice covering all the sins of the world.  A big enough sacrifice to cover ALL THE SINS OF THE WORLD!  Including yours and mine and most politicians. To say yes to this is to accept the gift, and with it, enjoying the knowledge that we will be welcomed into heaven because we have been cleansed by the blood of Christ shed on the cross – something we could not do for ourselves.  This was only possible because of Jesus’ divinity, which explains why he had to die – he’s the only one whose death would be significant enough to handle the load.

     For many millions – billions? – of people over the course of history, this is exceptionally good news.  There was a time in my life when I felt that my sins really disappointed God to the point where I wasn’t sure I was welcome anymore (I ate a lot of cookies before dinner). The news of God’s incredible love and grace truly humbled and changed me. I experienced the love of God in a profound way and said yes to being a professional mouthpiece for it ever since.  I bet many of you did, too. 

     Millions of people who once embraced this good news have begun walking away from it over the last century. So drastic is their shift that they no longer identify as Christian, but rather “nones”. The “nones” represent that fastest growing “faith” identification in the United States and is growing every day.  Why?  I have studied this phenomenon, so I am doing more than hunching when I say that two related concerns have driven it the most: theology and praxis.  The praxis?  As “nones” themselves point out, the Church has become known much more for who and what it hates than who and what it loves in very pronounced, ugly fashion.  Christian Nationalism will only ramp this experience up. Not only is this bad for the United States, but it will also be very damaging to the Church in the US, continuing to cause many not to want to be associated with anything close to it.  Such praxis is born, in part, out of theology (by definition, praxis is thoughtful action; for the faith, it’s Christian-thoughtful action).

     The cross itself reflects some of the problems.  In order for this to be a perfect sacrifice, according to the paradigm, Jesus had to truly be God in the flesh.  Matthew and Luke’s Gospels give their own respective versions of the divine conception of Jesus.  However, it must be noted that both Gospels were written decades after Jesus died. Furthermore, the vision of a demigod Messiah in Judaism didn’t and doesn’t exist. In fact, the idea is anathema to the tradition, viewing it as one of the pagan beliefs held by surrounding cultures, especially clear in Greek and Roman mythology.  What do we do with that? If Jesus wasn’t anymore divine than anyone else, how does that impact his sacrifice?  Can that really be sufficient?

     When God stopped Abraham from killing Isaac as a sacrifice, God made it clear that human sacrifice was abhorrent to him, and that he never wanted it practiced by Abraham’s ancestors.  When they did, it was a seriously grave offense.  Odd, then, the God’s solution to the sin problem was a human sacrifice. It’s like the writers in the New Testament weren’t writing to a primarily Jewish audience any longer since they would baulk at such obvious problems.  It’s like that because that’s not far from reality.  After the Temple fell in 70 CE, Judaism abandoned sacrificial theology, turning instead to obedience to the Torah for working out the sin problem.  The Jews moved on.  Those in the areas where Christianity was being introduced had not yet given up sacrificial theology and were quite comfortable with the notion of a demigod since it was already familiar to them. The New Testament was written primarily to and for them.

     If the suffering and execution of Jesus wasn’t about cleaning our sin slate, what do we do with it?  There is still much to be gleaned from the Passion of the Christ.  We see Jesus under pressure – a test of his mettle like no other.  How does he respond when tempted to give into the way of the world?  He stays the course of nonviolence, of shalom, of peace and wellbeing even toward those who are killing him because the only way to cultivate such love is with love.

     Sometimes the Greek doesn’t easily translate into English. There are many occasions when there could be multiple English words to translate one Greek word. The sentence structure can get clunky, too. The English translation “Christ died for our sins” could (and in my opinions should) be translated “Christ died because of our sins”. This subtle shift actually makes a significant difference in our understanding of the verse, with the latter stating a more common-sense understanding: human beings (Jewish leaders), sensing that their power was being threatened sinned by falsely arresting, convicting, and conspiring to have Jesus executed. This motivation is the way of the world, disturbs shalom, and is sin. That’s why Jesus died – the sins of human being put him on the cross.  Not nearly as romantic, but accurate.

     The relevance this has for us is still profound. Jesus took shalom seriously in response to the primary character and nature of God: love. Love is our deepest longing and our highest aim. Love is stronger than anything else, but we often never find out because it is not as fast as power and control. Jesus stayed true to the Love that changed his life. Toward love with love. It motivates Gandhi to do the same in his context, who influenced MLK to do the same in our context.

     If this is the first time you’ve considered the case against the cross-as-means-of-grace, it may at first feel exciting (or horrifying). But eventually there is a feeling of loss that many feel who once found this mode compelling, kind of like when we hear details of St. Nicolas’ historical past compared to the fantasy that developed over the last 200 years or so. The loss is real, so we might as well feel it. But there is good news.

     I love Santa Claus.  I still watch movies featuring the storyline.  The original Miracle on 34th Street is a classic.  I love the generosity and inclusion he represents. So, I choose to keep him, even if only metaphorically, which is not nothing. Metaphor is where we find meaning for just about every “fact” we take seriously. The orthodox meaning of the cross still proclaims a great truth: God is full of grace and mercy deeper than our individual and collective sin. God goes to great lengths with great patience to offer this grace rather than forcing compliance, because God does not control us even when we are killing ourselves.  I need a big enough gesture, and large enough story to remind me. The classic rendering of the cross fits, just as Santa reminds me to be generous and loving toward everyone – even those who maybe should be on the naughty list.

     This teaching will be offered on St. Patrick’s Day.  What, other than profound love, could have motivated this saint to return to the country and people that abducted and enslaved him?  At the end of the day, whichever way we interpret the cross, we find ourselves in love.

     Appreciating the full context of the Passion is incredibly powerful for me even if I take some details with a grain of salt. It has gained power over time, even if I had to travel through a season when it felt empty. Some cannot make that journey and stick with the classic.  That’s fine. But for those who cannot return, the good news is that there is an alternative that yields great meaning and power as well.

John 12:20-33 (MSG)

     There were some Greeks in town who had come up to worship at the Feast. They approached Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee: "Sir, we want to see Jesus. Can you help us?"

     Philip went and told Andrew. Andrew and Philip together told Jesus. Jesus answered, "Time's up. The time has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.

     "Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you'll have it forever, real, and eternal.

     "If any of you wants to serve me, then follow me. Then you'll be where I am, ready to serve at a moment's notice. The Father will honor and reward anyone who serves me.

     "Right now, I am storm-tossed. And what am I going to say? 'Father, get me out of this'? No, this is why I came in the first place. I'll say, 'Father, put your glory on display.'"

     A voice came out of the sky: "I have glorified it, and I'll glorify it again."

     The listening crowd said, "Thunder!"

     Others said, "An angel spoke to him!"

    Jesus said, "The voice didn't come for me but for you. At this moment the world is in crisis. Now Satan, the ruler of this world, will be thrown out. And I, as I am lifted up from the earth, will attract everyone to me and gather them around me." He put it this way to show how he was going to be put to death.

Romans 5:6-11 CEB

     While we were still weak, at the right moment, Christ died for ungodly people. It isn’t often that someone will die for a righteous person, though maybe someone might dare to die for a good person. But God shows his love for us, because while we were still sinners Christ died for us. So, now that we have been made righteous by his blood, we can be even more certain that we will be saved from God’s wrath through him. If we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son while we were still enemies, now that we have been reconciled, how much more certain is it that we will be saved by his life? And not only that: we even take pride in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, the one through whom we now have a restored relationship with God.

SALT Commentary: Lent 5 (Year B): John 12:20-33 and Jeremiah 31:31-34

Big Picture:

     1) According to John, this is Jesus’ last public teaching. What comes next is his private goodbye to his disciples (the so-called “farewell discourse”), followed by the passion story. Tensions have been rising, and now, as Passover approaches, those tensions reach a breaking point. Jesus has just raised Lazarus from the dead, and this astonishing act — along with the widespread excitement about it — has set in motion the local authorities’ plot to kill both Jesus and Lazarus. Lazarus’ sister, Mary, has come to anoint Jesus for his death. And Jesus, enacting ancient prophecies in Zechariah and the Psalms, has just entered Jerusalem on a donkey. John goes out of his way to underline that the crowds who gather along the roadsides waving palm branches are there because they had either seen Lazarus’ resurrection or heard about it. Looking at the crowds from a distance, the authorities are concerned, and whisper to each other: “Look, the world has gone after him!” (John 12:19).

     2) Stepping back to survey John’s Gospel as a whole, this is a crucial pivot point in the larger story. In the opening chapter, John writes, “No one has ever seen God” — but Jesus has come so that, in and through seeing him, God may be known (1:18). Initially, though Jesus is “in the world," "the world did not know him” (1:10). But now here, in chapter 12, “the world has gone after him,” waving branches and singing praises, and two foreign pilgrims in town for the Passover festival approach Philip and ask “to see Jesus.” In short: the word is out. Jesus’ purpose — to make the unseeable God known — is at last being fulfilled, and for this very reason, storm clouds are gathering overhead.

     3) Remember, the rationale behind the authorities’ plot (11:47-53) is tied directly to Jesus’ growing fame: if the people believe in Jesus in great numbers, the commotion may well attract attention — and even provoke a preemptive attack — from the Roman imperial occupiers worried about the potential for Jewish rebellion. Thus, for the authorities, the more Jesus’ celebrity grows (and what’s more spectacular than raising someone from the dead?), the more the temple and the whole people are put at risk.

     4) Apparently sensing this tipping point when he hears that two foreign pilgrims want to meet him, Jesus declares for the first time that “the hour has come” (12:23). At several points earlier in the story, beginning with the wedding at Cana (2:4), Jesus has said that his hour has not yet arrived — but now it’s at hand. Now he will come fully into view, for all to see. Now he will be “glorified” — and exactly what this means is the subject of this week’s passage.

     5) The broader section of Jeremiah (chapters 26-35) foretells the restoration of Israel, and this week’s passage is in the middle of what is sometimes called “The Scroll of Comfort” (30:1 - 33:26), a collection of short oracles. The phrase used here — translated as “to make a new covenant” — is literally “to cut a new covenant,” with the notion of a “cut” evoking both (a) the ancient covenantal ceremony in which the covenant partners walk between the split bodies of sacrificed animals (for example, Gen 15:7-21); and (b) the idea of inscribing the covenant on some material (for example, the stone tablets in Exodus 31:18). Jeremiah transfigures these ancient archetypes, envisioning not dead creatures but living ones, and locating the inscription not on stone but on the human heart, then thought to be the center of a person's intelligence and will.

    6) This is the only mention of a “new covenant” in Hebrew scripture, and New Testament authors pick it up in connection with the Communion meal (“this cup is the new covenant in my blood,” 1 Cor 11:25; Luke 22:20). The underlying idea can also be found elsewhere in the prophets: both Ezekiel and Isaiah refer to an everlasting, unbreakable covenant made possible because of a “new heart” and “new spirit” divinely given to human beings (Ezekiel 11:19-20; Isa 59:21). Even the Exodus covenant itself points in a similar direction: immediately after the famous line about loving God with all your heart, soul, and strength comes the verse, “Keep these words I am commanding you today in your heart” (Deut 6:5-6). In short, the essence of Jeremiah’s “new covenant” will be divine assistance for doing exactly what God has wanted from the beginning: keeping the law in our hearts.

Scripture:

     1) The hour has arrived for Jesus to fully “come into the world,” as Martha has just put it (John 11:27), thereby making known the unseeable God (1:18). Two Greek pilgrims ask “to see Jesus” — and Jesus answers with his last public discourse, in effect a meditation on what it truly means to “see” him, and so to know the One who sent him. The “Child of Humanity” will now be glorified. What will that look like? Jesus turns to an agricultural image: a grain that falls to the earth and dies, and then grows as a seed grows, bearing much nourishing fruit. In other words, being “glorified” will look like a human life freed from self-centered isolation, a generous life lived for others in community, in which both self and others flourish.  

     2) It’s worth noting that Jesus isn’t referring only to his death here, but rather to his death, resurrection, and ascension (“And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself” (12:32)). The seed dies, yes, but then rises again and bears fruit. Jesus goes on to spell out this theme in his subsequent private farewell to his disciples, casting his ascension (i.e., his departure) as a way of making room for the disciples to do even greater things (14:12). This is why Jesus came in the first place, he declares, for this hour of his death, rising, and ascension, all for the sake of the birth of a new community. With the two Greek pilgrims, then, in this choreography of growth and nourishment we may truly “see Jesus.” God’s self-giving love for humanity is so strong that God will undergo our rejection, even to death, and then transform that rejection into new life and flourishing for the sake of “all people” (12:32).

     3) There may be a veiled — or not so veiled! — rebuke here of the Gethsemane tradition in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, in which Jesus asks God to “let this cup pass.” In John, Jesus dismisses this sentiment with impatience: “And what should I say — ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.” But at the same time, in John, too, these events leave Jesus emotional and shaken. He has just wept for Lazarus, and now, even as he declares that “the hour has come,” he adds, “Now my soul is troubled” (12:27). He is courageously determined, but also vulnerable and distressed — evoking the idea that true courage does not replace or even diminish fear, but rather arises alongside it. And Jesus suggests that genuine Christian discipleship likewise must be at once courageous and vulnerable, since “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also” (12:26).  

     4) In the passage from Jeremiah, God promises to “cut a new covenant.” But what’s “new” about it won’t be its content; this is not a new law, but rather a new ability, on humanity’s part, to follow the law, and in that sense a new ongoing intimacy with God. In short, what will be “new” (or renewed) will be the inner life of human beings: God will write the law within us, such that knowing God will be second nature. This interior transformation is what’s being referenced in the Christian Communion meal, not only by the term “new covenant” but also by the very act of eating, of God's body and blood somehow going into ours. The gift of the law, already a pathway for living intimately with God, for knowing God in and through daily life, will become fully “internalized” — and as a result, Jeremiah declares, all teaching (including lectionary commentaries!) will be rendered unnecessary. On that day “surely coming,” everyone will know God already, sin will become obsolete, and God will freely forgive and forget past sin once and for all.

Takeaways:

     1) Jesus says all this, John reports, “to indicate the kind of death he was to die” (12:33) — and so the passage invites a fresh look at how we understand his death. First, for John, the focus is not on the death per se but rather on what the death makes possible: the resurrection, the ascension, and not least, the bearing of “much fruit,” the birth of the church who will do even greater things (14:12). This is what Jesus has in mind when he says, “when I am lifted up” (12:32): a symphony in which his death is only the first movement, and which will swell to even greater crescendos on Easter morning, Ascension day, and beyond. In this sense, John’s Gospel provides a helpful corrective against over-emphasizing the cross alone.

     2) And second, for John, the story of Jesus’ death is shot through with a kind of sacred, subversive irony. They thought they were burying him in a grave, but actually they were planting him like a seed. They thought they were killing him to ward off the Romans, but actually they were making possible a new harvest of “much fruit,” a “lifting up” through which Jesus will “draw all people to myself” (12:32). This kind of sacred irony is itself a comfort, since it illustrates how God can work through even the worst we can do, redeeming and remaking what seems irredeemable into the service of new life. Seen through this lens, the cross is an act of subversive, redemptive divine irony: one of the worst objects on earth remade into one of the best, a sword into a ploughshare. What kind of death did Jesus die? A fruitful death, a death that subversively enabled even greater things, including a new community: men and women, young and old, Jews and Greeks.

     3) Though Jeremiah prophesies a “new covenant,” there is no room here for supersessionist ideas, as if the Christian covenant replaces or surpasses the Jewish one. Jeremiah doesn’t speak of a new law, but rather of an upcoming era in which God provides new, merciful assistance, enabling human beings to follow the existing law by way of an interior transformation of the heart (or as Ezekiel puts a similar idea, a “new spirit” (Ezekiel 11:19-20)). This is a Jewish idea picked up by Jesus and the early Jewish-Christian communities that followed him, and what’s more, it’s an extension of an impulse toward intimacy and authenticity already present in earlier forms of the covenant with the Israelites (see Deut 6:6). Today’s Christians, like our Jewish brothers and sisters, seek that inner transformation that would render sin obsolete and teaching unnecessary — but to put it mildly, that hour has not yet come (though it is, the prophet insists, “surely coming”!).

     4) Finally, reading this passage from John 12 alongside Jeremiah 31 encourages us to interpret the cross in covenantal terms. The purpose of covenantal law in the first place is to know God intimately in our daily lives, and thereby to live with God in love and companionship. For Jeremiah, this is ultimately what the prophesied “new covenant” will allow: “they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest” (Jer 31:34). And for John, this is also the reason Jesus comes to dwell among us: so that the unseeable God may be seen — not in Jesus’ physical appearance, but rather in the choreography of actions, the shape of his love (John 1:18). This kind of communal knowing is arguably the “greatest” of all the “greater works than these” that Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension will make possible (John 14:12): an inclusive covenantal community, the beloved community, continually knowing God in genuine, written-on-our-hearts love, justice, and humility, a community of which God may truly say, “I will be their God, and they shall be my people” (Jer 31:33).

Believe

This week’s Gospel text comes from John 3:14-21 (MSG), where we enter halfway through a conversation with Jesus who is speaking to Nicodemus, a highly educated Jewish leader:

     “In the same way that Moses lifted the serpent in the desert so people could have something to see and then believe (see Numbers 21:4-9), it is necessary for the Son of Man to be lifted up— and everyone who looks up to him, trusting and expectant, will gain a real life, eternal life.

     "This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn't go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again. Anyone who trusts in him is acquitted; anyone who refuses to trust him has long since been under the death sentence without knowing it. And why? Because of that person's failure to believe in the one-of-a-kind Son of God when introduced to him.

     "This is the crisis we're in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness. They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God. Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won't come near it, fearing a painful exposure. But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is."

Many people were encouraged to memorize this version of John 3:16: “For God so loved that world that he gave his only begotten son so that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

Disclosure: when the broader context of John 3:16 is presented, most scholars focus on the parallels between Jesus being lifted up on the cross and Moses lifting up the bronze snake. It was an intentional connection for John to illustrate the reversal God used to bring about healing. The very thing that was identified as the source of pain is the very thing that offers healing.  That’ll preach.  But not today, because I want to focus on a word that is too often overlooked, misunderstood, and ignored in the passage: believe.

     Before we look at what it means to believe, we need to handle a key theological point as well as a biblical interpretation issue.  First, note that the impetus for God’s action with Moses/snake and Jesus/cross is love.  Shalom had been violated in each context, and God sought to offer a remedy to all who wanted it.  Second, when Jesus referred to eternal life, he was not referring to life-after-death, but life here and now.  In short, eternal life for Jesus refers to a quality of life infused by the Spirit of God and can also be understood as the Kingdom of God, salvation, and the Hebrew word shalom.  They are all in the same circle. While we have hope in life of some sort after death because of Easter’s surprise, John 3:16 simply isn’t about that.  Please let that sink in, which is more difficult than it may seem given the cultural emphasis of faith leading to heaven in the future.

     Believing in the loving act of God yields eternal life, salvation, and shalom.  But what did Jesus mean by believe?  While we almost always think of intellectual assent (agreeing to a series of statement about God), the actual meaning referred to something more holistic that includes our mind, our heart, and our behavior.  We understand it. We are passionate about it.  We live it out with our hands, feet, mouth, our entire lives.  This makes so much more sense than signing off on a confessional statement.  When we are fully aligned with the Good News of the love of God with our whole being, NATURALLY we find ourselves more likely swimming in shalom.

     So, if belief is a whole-life thing, what did that look like for Jesus? A survey of the Gospel of John provides a glimpse.  Jesus embodied shalom in his teaching, life, and ministry because he put into practice the full meaning of belief.  While it is no guarantee that by following his example will mean we will be aflush with shalom, it will certainly increase your odds, much like drinking water regularly increases your odds of being and staying hydrated!  Motivated by his experience of shalom, Jesus incorporated the following five “belief movements” into the rhythm of his life: stretch, kneel, grace, connect, and incarnate.  What do these movements entail?

     Stretch: Lifelong Learning. Jesus didn’t know everything when he was pushed out of the womb. Neither did he know everything at the start of his ministry. He spent his life learning, from start to finish.  Theologian Karl Barth once quipped that the Gospel of John is a text where babies can wade, and elephants can tread.  Shalom is like that. We can get it and get a lot from a shallow understanding of it, yet there are depths that we can explore until we draw our last breath.  Jesus chose to go deeper and deeper through to the very end, even forgiving the people who put him there (who were watching him gasp).  The Bible’s Rebecca (Isaac’s wife) comes to mind as she surely learned how to manage the family estate given Isaac’s apparent lack of nerve and vision.  Elizabeth Blackwell comes to mind as well, the first woman credentialed as a Medical Doctor in the US.  Can you imagine the conditions she endured to learn all that was required of her? How are you choosing to grow deeper in your understanding of your faith, shalom, love, grace, God, etc.?  Simply attending our service is a step – the teaching is meant to help you grow in your faith, which is why I often incorporate books into the mix.

     Kneel: Service. Jesus was known for serving people wherever he went, becoming famous for his ability to heal, and infamous for proclaiming forgiveness of sin.  We are called to serve our neighbors and world, especially those who are more vulnerable than others. The Gospels speak of Martha, sister of Lazarus, who loved to serve.  Eleanor Rooseveltcould have simply enjoyed the benefits of being the FLOTUS, but she decided to use her public voice to serve the vulnerable in the United States.  How are you making room in your life to serve other people and/or the natural world in which we live?

    Grace. Jesus offered grace to one and all, which got him in trouble with those who restricted it.  For individuals, grace means freedom from the oppression of sin – the disturbance of shalom – often from things we’ve done or things that have been done to us.  Jesus reminded people that God loves everyone unconditionally and that grace is freely given. Grace sees everyone as beloved equals and treats them accordingly.  Jesus also recognized that entire groups of people were not being treated lovingly and certainly not as equals. This was a disturbance of shalom for entire swaths of people – an injustice.  Jesus instructed his followers how to resist injustice in ways that did not disturb shalom. Nonviolent resistance challenges those in power who are mistreating others. Shalom is about grace, which is also inherently about justice. The Bible’s Queen Esther comes to mind here, doing what she could to avert the genocide of her people.   Are you familiar with Victoria Woodhull? She was devoted to helping women experience greater equality, even running for president in 1872!  How are you offering grace and supporting justice in our world?

     Connect: Spirituality.  Jesus regularly took time to be in solitude, to reflect, pray, meditate, and contemplate.  Long before mobile phones, the Internet, and unlimited streaming services, Jesus knew he had to carve out room for silence.  Mary, Martha’s sister, was one who set aside time to be around Jesus (to her sister’s chagrin, in fact).  Hildegard of Bingen was someone who developed her connection to God and helped others do the same. How much more is this necessary today? How are you carving out time and space for stillness, silence, listening, noticing, considering, and responding to the movement of the Spirit of God?

     Incarnate: Spiritual Community.  Jesus wasn’t a rugged individualist. He wasn’t like John Wayne, swaggering into town to save the day. Jesus ordered his life and ministry with other people from the very beginning for a reason: community matters. More specifically, faith community matters because we are aligned with the same Spirit which helps us support each other along the way.  In times of joy, grief, frustration, celebration, and endless days of meh, loving people around us help us stay connected to Love, help us be more loving, and offers a space to live it out with each other. The Bible’s Ruth comes to mind here, completely devoted to the wellbeing of her Mother-in-Law, Naomi, who returned the favor.  Mother Teresa chose to live among the poorest of the poor in Calcutta – not just service them but being among them.   How’s your connection with community?

     Drinking water doesn’t guarantee that you won’t get dehydrated but definitely increases your odds. Building Jesus’ rhythm into your life doesn’t guarantee that you’ll have a deeper faith, but it definitely increases your odds because all these movements are part of what it means to believe, to drink from the well of living water that never runs dry. 

     May you be inspired to drink more deeply from the source, to truly, fully believe, that you may enjoy eternal life now, giving you greater confidence in eternal life to come.

Questions to consider...

How was “belief” defined for you growing up?  What value did it hold for you? What were its limitations?

What internal resistance, if any, do you experience after considering a broader definition of belief?

What areas of your life have you held beliefs yet struggled to live them out?

Is this just semantics? Does defining belief matter? Not just in faith but in life?

What aspects of believing like Jesus come easy for you? What aspects are more difficult? Why?

Bonus Nerd Notes:

·       Moses’ snake lifted on a pole and Jesus lifted on a cross: In both cases, something representing death and dying was transformed into a symbol of life and living.  In both cases, God provided grace and life without condition, to be freely received by any who gave it attention.

·       Condemnation and judgment is common sense: relative levels of believing lead toward related levels of eternal life; the less we believe the less eternal life we experience. This rings true of the human experience everywhere, putting the burden of responsibility for living a full and meaningful life on us, not God. What are we doing with the life we have? How are we embracing The Way that leads to life infused with the source of life?

Commentary from SALT: Lent 4 (Year B): John 3:14-21 and Numbers 21:4-9

Big Picture:

1) This week’s readings include one of the most famous verses in the New Testament, John 3:16, a citation frequently seen on placards at sporting events, in graffiti along roadsides, and so on. For all its familiarity, the verse is frequently misunderstood, partly because of a holdover from seventeenth-century English (see below), and partly because so much is packed into it and the surrounding passage. Martin Luther called John 3:16 “the gospel in miniature” — and like any summary, it pushes us to clarify how we understand God’s love and God’s justice to be related. If we distort this key relationship, we can render the verse not the Gospel but rather the anti-Gospel, a proclamation not of love and invitation but of contempt and exclusion. In other words, this verse presents us with an excellent opportunity to contemplate and crystallize what Christian “good news” is really all about.

2) As the Israelites wander in the wilderness, there are nearly a dozen stories in Exodus and Numbers describing the people complaining or rebelling along the way — and in this week’s passage from John, Jesus alludes to the very last of these stories. It’s arguably the most serious of them all, since the people speak “against God and against Moses,” a formulation unique to this story (Num 21:5). Hungry and impatient, the Israelites ungratefully describe the exodus from Egypt as “bringing us out into the wilderness to die,” and so God sends poisonous, deadly serpents to slither among them, wreaking havoc (Num 21:5-6). The people promptly confess (“we have sinned”) and plead for help, and God directs Moses to fashion a serpent of bronze and put it up on a pole, such that any bitten Israelite can “look at the serpent of bronze and live” (Num 21:7-9).

3) Both in Numbers and in John, there are indications that the negative consequences described in these stories are less divine punishments and more aspects of the self-destructive nature of sin. In Numbers, the Israelites’ complaints themselves are conspicuously “serpentine”: poisonous, bitter, and self-contradictory (given manna to eat daily, the people say both “There is no food!” and “We detest this miserable food!” (Num 21:5)). And in John, Jesus casts those who do not believe in him as afflicted by a self-sabotaging desire to stay in the shadows; in this sense, they condemn themselves by choosing to stay away from the light (John 3:18,21). In any case, the center of gravity in both stories — and the key link between them — is the saving action of God, as well as God’s intention to save not just a select few but rather “everyone” who looks upon the bronze serpent (Numbers), and indeed the entire world (John).

4) Jesus’ other allusion in this passage from John — by way of the phrase, “gave his only Son” — is to the harrowing story of Abraham and Isaac, in which God calls on Abraham to give his “only son” as a burnt offering (John 3:16; Gen 22:2,12,16). As it turns out, the instruction is a divine “test” to see whether Abraham’s fidelity and devotion to God are genuine or driven by self-interest (Gen 22:1). Abraham loves Isaac, of course, and in addition, since Isaac is Abraham’s only heir, his death would apparently invalidate God’s promise that Abraham’s descendants will be “a great nation” (Gen 12:2; 15:3-6). God is asking, in effect, Are you truly devoted to me — or merely to the promise of a great legacy? Thus, the instruction to sacrifice Isaac “tests” the nature of Abraham’s devotion — and in the end, the ordeal demonstrates that his devotion is extravagant and true. By alluding to this story, Jesus is signaling that God’s devotion to humankind is likewise extravagant and true, and that Jesus’ mission — his life, death, and resurrection — should be understood accordingly. (Here’s SALT’s full commentary on the Abraham and Isaac story.)

Scripture:

1) Shortly after Jesus’ provocative disturbance-of-the-peace at the Jerusalem temple, Nicodemus, a Jewish religious leader, visits Jesus by night. Nicodemus has begun to suspect that Jesus has indeed “come from God” — though he’s not yet convinced. He has questions about what Jesus means by being “born anew” or “born from above” (the Greek phrase here can mean either), a phenomenon Jesus then calls being “born of the Spirit” (John 3:3,8). This is a late-night, clandestine conversation, and Jesus’ words are part of an attempt to persuasively explain his identity and mission to an interested, well-educated leader who has asked to hear more.  

2) To make his case, Jesus alludes to the Israelites in the wilderness (Numbers 21) and to Abraham and Isaac (“gave his only Son”; John 3:16; Genesis 22). Both references are well-tailored to Nicodemus, a Pharisee who would have known scripture exceedingly well — and they also serve as a compact, anticipatory portrait of Jesus’ coming crucifixion. Jesus puns on the phrase, “lifted up”: Moses lifted up the bronze serpent and Jesus will be lifted up on the cross, and at the same time the phrase also alludes to Jesus' resurrection and ascension (John 3:14). Above all, however, the reference to the story from Numbers highlights God’s character as the One who saves even and especially in the face of rebellion. The Israelites had self-destructively turned against God, but when they asked for deliverance from the consequences of their sin (and please note, their plea isn't out of any high-minded piety, but rather is driven by self-preservation!), God gracefully delivers them.

3) There’s a fascinating theology of the cross evoked here, distinct from both “penal substitution” theory (the idea that Jesus absorbs punishment on our behalf) and “Christus Victor” theory (the idea that Jesus conquers the powers of death). While God could have saved the Israelites by having them look upon any object at all, or in some other way entirely, the chosen remedy is to look upon a bronze serpent, a vivid reminder — even in the midst of healing and restoration — of two things: first, the deadly, self-destructive nature of sin; and second, God's gracious transformation of even our worst into part of our redemption. Likewise, the Christian cross can play this dual role, reminding us of the many ways we turn against each other in violence and betrayal, and at the same time, of God’s graceful, transformative forgiveness and deliverance.

4) Think of it this way: the bronze serpent takes what was for the wandering Israelites one of the very worst things in the world (a lethal snake) and remakes it into one of the very best (an instrument of healing). Accordingly, the Christian cross can be understood as an imperial weapon of torture and death divinely transformed into a sign of hope and new life, a sword remade into a ploughshare. Viewed this way, the cross epitomizes and proclaims the Great Reversal now underway: God is turning the world around, redeeming even the worst of the worst, swords into ploughshares, serpents into salves, crosses into trees of life — making all things new!

5) In seventeenth-century English, “so” frequently meant “in this way” — as in, “like so,” or “so help me God.” In the King James Version of the Bible, then, it made perfect sense to translate the Greek houtos (WHO-toes, “in this way”) with the English word “so” — and that's exactly what the KJV translators did in the famous sentence, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son...” (John 3:16). But today, we more often use “so” to mean “very” or “to a large extent” — as in, “I’m so sad,” or “She’s so smart!” Thus John 3:16 is often misunderstood today as a statement about the extent or degree of God’s love — whereas actually it’s a statement about the way or pattern of God’s love, as in, “For God loved the world in this way…”

6) Remember, Jesus is talking to Nicodemus, a student of scripture, and in order to describe the character of God’s love, he makes two allusions to ancient scriptural archetypes: one underscoring God's desire to save sinners, as in the story of the bronze serpent in the wilderness; and the other underscoring God’s extravagant fidelity and devotion to humankind, as in the story of Abraham and Isaac (the link is the phrase, “gave his only Son”; in this sense, in Abraham’s extravagant devotion to God we can catch a glimpse of God’s extravagant devotion to humanity). In what way does God love the world? In this way (houtos): God graciously delivers us from the self-destruction of sin, and God faithfully, astonishingly gives God’s only Child for the sake of our deliverance.

7) For the sake of whose deliverance, exactly? The scope of salvation has long been a topic of debate among Christians, and this passage in John is a case study. On one hand, some emphasize the idea that “eternal life” is only granted to those who “believe,” as if the sentence were italicized like this: “For God loved the world in this way: he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” On the other hand, others emphasize God’s intention to save all people, as if the sentence were italicized like this: “For God loved the world in this way…” — that is, everyone!

8) On balance, there are at least three reasons to lean toward the latter emphasis. First, throughout John’s Gospel, “the world” (Greek: kosmos) is a term typically used as shorthand for sin or estrangement from God — and this makes it all the more striking that Jesus says, “God loved the world” (kosmos) and not “God hated the world but loved the remnant of those who believe.” Second, in Numbers, when God provides the remedy of the bronze serpent, the strategy isn't to save a few well-deserving Israelites, but rather to save “everyone” who had turned against God and then (for arguably less-than-noble reasons) sought deliverance (Num 21:8). And third, as if to clarify this very question, in the next verse Jesus underlines that God sends the Son not “to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him” (John 3:17).

Takeaways:

1) As we move through Lent toward Holy Week, this passage provides another angle on how to think about Good Friday and Easter Sunday. The reference to the story in Numbers points to the cross and resurrection as divine acts of love and mercy for the sake of all — even and especially those who are caught up in sin’s self-destruction, not the best and brightest and most pious. And the reference to the story of Abraham and Isaac ("gave his only Son") points to the cross and resurrection as signs of God’s extravagant faithfulness and devotion to humanity. In short, God loves “in this way” (houtos): graciously, mercifully, faithfully, devotedly — and universally, for the sake of “the world” (kosmos).

2) For many people, this passage raises questions about the nature and scope of salvation. Does God love the world, but intends to save only a remnant, only those who “believe in him”? Though some Christians try to read this passage in those terms, at least four key factors point in the other direction: (1) the emphasis on unearned deliverance for “everyone” in the Numbers story of the bronze serpent; (2) the emphasis on extravagant devotion in the Genesis story of Abraham and Isaac; (3) the emphasis on love (and not condemnation) for the whole world (kosmos) in John 3:16-17; and (4) the foundational ideas in Christian theology that love and humility should govern our reading of scripture, and that we have no right to impose limits on God’s graceful, saving work. 

3) In the end, while offering assurance and encouraging fellow disciples and interested seekers to “believe in Jesus” is well and good, we dare not put boundaries around what counts — from God’s perspective — as “believing,” or indeed whether such belief can emerge after death, and so on. After all, salvation is God’s business, not ours. What we are charged to do is to proclaim again and again the good news of God’s extravagant love and mercy for “the world” — the kosmos, the whole creation! — without exception, indeed for “all the families of the earth” (John 3:16; Gen 12:3).

Toward Shalom, With Shalom, For Shalom

Have you ever heard of the Ten Commandments?  Probably a stupid question.  Without looking it up, how many can you name?

I am the only God – worth-ship accordingly.

Don’t worship man-made things as if they were gods.

Treat me and my name reverently.

Keep the Sabbath holy: take a day to truly reset with God.

Honor your father and mother.

You must not murder.

You must not commit adultery.

You must not steal.

You must not testify falsely against your neighbor.

You must not covet. - Exodus 20:1-17 (NLT)

      Sounds doable.  Should these still comprise the Top Ten Commandments?

      One problem with simply looking at the list and tracking our progress in keeping it is that it can often lead us in an unhealthy direction of transactional thinking.  This orientation implies that if we do “X”, God will give us “Y” in return.  If we don’t, God won’t.  Transaction.  This is how the world operates in many areas, so it is understandable that we would very naturally apply it to our faith.  Many of us came to faith motivated by transactional thinking. “Keep up on confession, keep coming to Mass, take communion, and God will be with you now and reward you later.” Or “accept Jesus into your heart (a way of saying ‘believe’) and God will forgive you of your sins and welcome you into heaven.”  No matter how many “faith sprinkles” you douse it with, it’s still a transactional cupcake in the end.

     This isn’t really good news, and it certainly isn’t the Good News Jesus went around proclaiming.  If he had, nobody would have followed him because it wasn’t only not good, it wasn’t new, either.  Due to corruption in Jewish leadership, many believed that the Jewish faith was ultimately transactional.  Add a little greed into the equation on the part of the Temple leaders, and such a theology blended with abusive power led to the following scene from Jesus’ early days in his ministry:

     It was nearly time for the Jewish Passover celebration, so Jesus went to Jerusalem. In the Temple area he saw merchants selling cattle, sheep, and doves for sacrifices; he also saw dealers at tables exchanging foreign money. Jesus made a whip from some ropes and chased them all out of the Temple. He drove out the sheep and cattle, scattered the money changers’ coins over the floor, and turned over their tables. Then, going over to the people who sold doves, he told them, “Get these things out of here. Stop turning my Father’s house into a marketplace!” – John 2:13-16 (NLT)

      Jesus was furious because the most vulnerable people – the poor – were being forced to spend what little they had on sacrifices to stay in God’s good graces.  This transaction was in direct opposition to Jesus’ teaching and witness to the love of God for everyone without condition. Jesus’ teaching was mostly about what he called The Kingdom of God – what life would be like if we allowed The Way of God to be fully expressed in our individual lives and world.  This was the salvation he offered – saving lives and the world.  This vision was rooted in a robust Hebrew word we know as shalom. As Mark Feldmeir notes:

      The Hebrew word shalom means peace. But peace is an inadequate translation. We think of peace as the absence of conflict. But shalom is far more than the absence of conflict because we can be conflict-free and still lack a sense of peace. We might still be unsettled. We might still feel as if something is missing in our lives. Shalom means to make something whole. Shalom is an experience of fullness, completeness, contentment. Perhaps the closest word to shalom in the English language is something like well-being. But even that’s inadequate, because well-being doesn’t come close to capturing the radical and counterintuitive nature of shalom. In the Hebraic way of thinking, this fullness, completeness, contentment, well-being called shalom is the result of the joining together of opposites or ostensibly opposing forces (Life After God, 74-75).

      Isaiah points to this as he speaks to Israel:

 In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together;

the leopard will lie down with the baby goat.

The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion,

and a little child will lead them all.

The cow will graze near the bear.

The cub and the calf will lie down together.

The lion will eat hay like a cow.

The baby will play safely near the hole of a cobra.

Yes, a little child will put its hand in a nest of deadly snakes without harm. - Isaiah 11:1-8 (NLT)

      This vision of shalom means that all that is not aligned with God’s love is brought back in place.  Justice is served for one and all.  Feldmeir continues: “The moral arc of the universe bends toward this ultimate purpose. But it does not bend on its own. God gives to each of us the task of bending it. Shalom begins with us. But before it begins with us, it must happen in us” (76).

     What does this mean and how do we help it happen in us?  One uncomfortable part of shalom for me – and I think maybe one or two other people, too – is how shalom deals with our suffering. I was hoping for a magic wand type of thing. After I say the right kind of magic prayer words, God would waive the wand and simply erase all the stupid things I’ve done that weren’t aligned with shalom that definitely caused me some problems and often hurt others as well.  I thought that’s what forgiveness was all about – cast those sins to the depths of the ocean and forget they ever happen.  But that’s not shalom.

     Don’t get me wrong, forgiveness of sin is a real thing.  God’s grace is unending and unconditional.  You are forgiven before you ask for it.  It’s in the Bible.  Look it up (see John 8 where Jesus proclaims forgiveness for a “sinful” woman before she asks for it). Shalom doesn’t cause us to forget our past pain caused by others or wounds self-inflicted. It does something much better. It helps us meaningfully integrate it into our lives, taking much of the sting away while providing deep peace.  It could be that you’ve settled only for forgiveness, which doesn’t necessarily bring peace and well-being. Shalom offers more because it deals with the past instead of just trying to forget it ever happened, because, as William Faulkner famously said, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.”  Shalom joins opposites of pain and joy, good and evil, and somehow brings them together without the destruction it once caused.  Feldmeir notes:

     The late preacher and civil rights activist John Claypool once said, “One of the most important decisions you’ll ever make is what to do with the past. Will it be one thing, or everything?” Our past is never dead. But our past does not have to be everything or all-determining. And if true shalom can only happen when we join opposites, we can only find true wholeness when our imperfect past meets the new, future possibilities God is offering us in the here and now. Shalom is refusing to get mired too deeply in the past and refusing to live too far into the future. The nineteenth-century Danish existentialist philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once noted that a great source of our unhappiness in life is our reluctance to let go of our less-than-ideal past and our unwillingness to hope for anything less than an ideal or perfect future for ourselves. Unhappy people, he suggested, are those who have their ideal—that is, the essence of their being—in some manner outside of themselves and thus remain absent from themselves in the present moment...

     To be truly happy and fully present to ourselves in the here and now, argued Kierkegaard, we must look not to the remembered or the anticipated ideal but to a past that was real and a future that can be grounded in the real. Shalom, wholeness, well-being happens when we join our imperfect, less-than-ideal past with the more hopeful and real possibilities of the future and choose to live most fully in the real and present moment, deciding today who we will be, how we will live, whether we will pursue the aim or intention God has set before us. God gives us a choice in the matter of how our futures will unfold. The paint on the canvas of our lives is never quite dry...

     There are always three powers at work in the creation of our future. The first is the power of our past, the second is the power of God in every present moment, and the third power is ourselves. We decide what we will do, how we will live, who we will become. We are responsible for joining the actual past received from the world and the possible future received from God (80-82).

      As much as I would like to be forgiven and forget, well-being just doesn’t work that way.  So long as I don’t deal with my past, my past will continue to deal with me, restricting my capacity to be whole and well and enjoy deep peace. So long as families don’t deal with their past, the past will deal with them, keeping them dysfunctional and probably abusive in some way. So long as countries don’t deal with their past, their past will haunt them in continued strife and suffering.  Being honest with myself allows the Spirit of God to work on me, in me, and with me is humbling, but it leads to strength and healing. Same for families. Same for countries.  We have the power to choose, and we have a greater power to help us move forward toward shalom, with shalom, for shalom.  This process takes courage and will likely require the help of others whom God will use toward our healing and becoming. We may need professional help like a therapist or spiritual director or a pastor. Yet the possibility is before us, all grounded in the truth that love is the genesis of life, we are loved, we are empowered by love, we are wooed by love, we are held in love, and one day we will be fully at home and rest in love.

Unless otherwise indicated, all quotes are from Mark Feldmeir’s book, Life after God: Finding Faith When You Can't Believe Anymore. Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Commentary from SALT: Lent 3 (Year B): John 2:13-22 and Exodus 20:1-17

Big Picture:

1) Mark has been our main guide this year, and we’ll come back to Mark on Palm Sunday — but as we follow the lectionary over the next three weeks, we’ll explore stories from the Gospel of John. The Season of Lent is a time of mysteries and shadows, and John’s perspective is another lantern to help light the way.

2) John organizes his Gospel around six miraculous “signs” Jesus performs over the course of his public ministry. These function like signposts along the path, pointing toward primary themes John wants to emphasize about who Jesus is and what his mission is all about. The first of these signs is when Jesus, encouraged by his mother, surreptitiously turns water into wine during a wedding in Galilee. Today’s passage comes immediately on the heels of that wedding story, as if John is saying: Look, something new and wondrous has come into the world, a new day is dawning — and now, to get a sense of what's really at stake, listen to this story of Jesus and the Temple in Jerusalem.

3) Near the end of their respective gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke also include a story of Jesus angrily clearing out the temple, condemning the corruption of the traders’ activity (“you have made it a den of robbers” (e.g., Mark 11:17; cf. Jeremiah 7:11)). John’s version puts the story in a somewhat different light, not only because it happens at the outset of Jesus’ public ministry rather than at its end, but also because Jesus calls the place not a “den of robbers” but simply “a marketplace.” What’s going on here? Is Jesus against marketplaces? Well, no — Jesus doesn’t go around Galilee and Jerusalem denouncing local markets, and after all, the temple had to include a marketplace (with vendors selling animals, currency exchanges, etc.) in order to make the longstanding sacrificial system run smoothly. And that’s precisely the point: Jesus’ anger seems to be focused not on marketplaces, or on corruption in general, but rather on the sacrificial system itself. His actions seem to say: It’s high time for that system to end, and for a new era to begin.

4) Speaking of new eras, this week’s passage from Exodus is the story of another step in the covenantal journey we’ve been tracing over the last few weeks, beginning with the universal covenant in the time of Noah, then the particular covenant in the time of Abraham and Sarah — and now the covenantal law in the time of Moses, iconically represented by the Ten Commandments (literally “ten words”; see Ex 34:28). Conceiving this law as covenantal — that is, as a framework for Israel’s relationship with God — can transform how we hear it: these commandments aren’t arbitrary prohibitions, but rather loving limits that guide human beings toward living with justice, grace, and dignity. Even more, they mark out a way of relating and listening to God in everyday life. This is yet another development or unfolding of what “covenant” means for Israel: with the gift of the law at Sinai, Israel's relationship with God becomes a tangible, day-to-day, ongoing form of listening (the root of the word “obedience” is the Latin audire, “to listen”). The covenantal law transforms "doing what is right" into “responding to God’s call” — which is to say, into a calling, a vocation, something done not only for its own sake but also as an act of listening, devotion, and companionship with God.

Scripture:

1) Passover is near, the Jewish festival of deliverance from bondage — and at the same time, deliverance into the intimate obedience to God represented by the Ten Commandments. There are three Passover festivals in John, the last one coinciding with Jesus' crucifixion; thus his public ministry begins approximately two years prior to his death. Jesus' first "sign" at the wedding at Cana has just happened, though only his disciples, mother, and a few servants are aware of it. In this story, then, Jesus truly “goes public” with a bold, provocative drama in the most prestigious Jewish space of all, the Temple in Jerusalem, at the most prestigious Jewish time of all, the days just before Passover.

2) No weapons are allowed in the temple, so Jesus improvises a whip out of cords and drives out the merchants, animals, and money changers, turning over their tables with righteous indignation: “Stop making God’s house a marketplace!”

3) The temple’s sacrificial system depended on that marketplace to supply both the animals suitable for sacrifice — cattle, sheep, and doves — and the special coins permitted in the temple. To do away with this market, then, was to strike at the heart of the sacrificial system itself. In the background here is the ancient prophet Zechariah, the same visionary whose words will be enacted on Palm Sunday (“Lo, your king comes to you...humble and riding on a donkey” (Zech 9:9)). Zechariah also speaks of a new age to come when the holiness associated with the temple will pervade the whole world, and “there shall no longer be traders in the house of the LORD” (Zech 14:21). The idea seems to be that the traders are part of a layer of separation between God and Israel that one day will be overcome. Thus, Jesus driving the traders out of the temple, like his eventual arrival in Jerusalem on a donkey, is a kind of street theater declaring through action that the long-awaited new epoch has begun. Holiness will overflow conventional bounds, and the-temple-as-we-know-it will give way to a more widespread, accessible, direct mode of encountering God.

4) Perhaps recognizing the audacious claim embedded in Jesus' actions, the religious authorities demand a sign that would justify his authority. In veiled and resonant language, Jesus proposes a sign the authorities mistakenly take at face value: “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” They think he’s referring to brick and mortar, but in fact, John explains, “he was speaking of the temple of his body.” Thus, Jesus does at least three things at once:  (1) he counters the religious authorities; (2) he cryptically predicts his death and resurrection, something his disciples realize only later, “after he was raised from the dead”; and (3) he casts a revolutionary vision for worship in the new era. His body is the temple. Those who “abide in him” (one of John’s favorite themes; see 15:4) thereby abide in "the house of the LORD." This theme will surface again in Jesus' conversation with the Samaritan woman about worshiping God not in any specific location but rather “in spirit and truth” (John 4:21-23).

5) In other words, for John, Jesus’ arrival signals the dawn of a new age, a new intimacy with God, a new conception of “the temple” not as a building but as a person in spirit and truth, Jesus, God’s Word made flesh. The old sacrificial system must end; there's no need for animals and blood and money changers; in fact, the old system only stands as an impediment to the new day. Drive out the traders! Zechariah’s vision is fulfilled! Fashion a whip out of cords, let a thousand doves arise and scatter — for the hour has come!

6) It’s worth remembering here that the Gospel of John was written after the Roman armies had destroyed the Jerusalem Temple, a period when both Jews and early Christians were struggling to make sense of the world without what they had considered its sacred axis. Rabbinic Judaism eventually refigured “the temple” in the home, and early Christians refigured "the temple" as the body of Jesus, which is also the body of the church — and the body of, as John put it, the Logos, the Word made flesh, the pattern underlying the cosmic temple of creation.

7) A similar emphasis on more intimate and direct relationship with God is clear in the Exodus passage. God gives Israel the law as a mode of ongoing covenantal interaction, an opportunity for Israel to listen to God and live out that listening every day. And once these “commandments” are heard in this loving, relational way, they become less a list of imperatives and more a collection of indicatives, descriptions of what graceful, dignified human life looks like. Thus, the famous refrain “you shall not” no longer rings like an imperious injunction; rather, it becomes an illustration, a portrayal of human integrity and beauty, as if God is saying: When you walk with me in humility and love, you shall not murder, you shall not lie, you shall not steal...

Takeaways:

1) Why is Jesus angry? It’s the ancient anger of the prophets, a sacred zeal that moves against and beyond the sacrificial system of dead animals and toward an intimate simplicity of prayer, spirit, and truth, unbound by any particular building or system of exchange. And it’s an ancient passion, too, for the coming of God’s Jubilee, a new Passover, a new Exodus from all bondage, a new freedom to abide in God, as God abides in us, in a world saturated with divine glory and presence. These ideas are shot through the prophets: think of Jeremiah’s “temple sermon” (Jeremiah 7), or indeed his prophesied “new covenant” in which God’s law is written on our hearts (Jeremiah 31:33). Think of the devastating critique of sacrifice in Isaiah, Hosea, and Amos (Isa 1:11; Hosea 6:6; Amos 5:22), or the famous verse in Micah, contrasting justice, kindness, and humility to animal sacrifices (Micah 6:6-8). In his own way, Jesus picks up this prophetic mantle — and fashions his whip out of cords. In brief, he is angry about any system or structure that creates an apparent barrier between God and God’s people. At its heart, his mission is about dismantling those barriers, exposing them as illusory. In that sense, his mission is about reconciliation, mutual indwelling (“Abide in me, as I abide in you” (John 15:4)), and the just, kind, humble life that flows from such intimacy.

2) The Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann once warned that the quickest way to desecrate a landscape was to build a church — since the supposed “holy ground” would instantly imply that everything outside its doors is profane (and sure enough, the word “profane” comes from the Latin for “outside the temple”). Like the prophets before him, Jesus can be understood in this week’s passage as challenging our tendency to domesticate God into a temple or a church or a sacred system. In fact, all of creation shimmers with divine glory. When we go to church, we don’t step into God’s presence; rather, we step into a community that, at its best, helps call our attention to the fact that God is present everywhere, that the body of Jesus and the movement of the Spirit are boundless, and so that the temple’s architecture must extend all the way out — all the way to the expanding edges of the cosmos.

3) This basic idea isn’t unique to Jesus; rather, he stands in a lineage we can find in the prophets — and also in Exodus. At Sinai, God could have given the Israelites a temple and a fortress, but instead God gave them a law, a code that would saturate their lives as they wandered in the wilderness, investing virtually every moment with the possibility of holiness and beauty, dignity, and devotion. At its best, a law is a pathway for living, an immersive form of listening to a call. It’s a way of abiding with each other in intimate companionship — doing the right thing, yes, but also living together: “doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). Any barrier to that abundant life, to that joy and gladness — makes Jesus angry. Angry enough to move decisively toward taking that barrier down, once and for all.

The Cost of Creating Peace

Enjoy special guest and CrossWalker, Rev. Dr. Angela Barker-Jackson, as she wraps up the Simplicity, Spirituality, and Service series dovetailing Bruce Epperly, James Cone, and lectionary texts.

Commentary from The Salt Project

Lent 2 (Year B): Mark 8:31-38 and Genesis 17:1-16

Check out SALT’s “Strange New World” podcast episode connected to these readings: “Ten Ways of Looking at the Cross.”

Big Picture:

1) In one of his classic teachings, the Buddha tells his disciples that understanding his instruction is like picking up a poisonous snake in the wild; it’s all too easy to get bitten. In fact, he says, it’s entirely possible to misinterpret his teaching to mean the opposite of what he actually intends — not 10 degrees to the left, or 20 degrees to the right, but 180 degrees off-target, the reverse of what he means. Think of it this way: If you pick up a snake in the middle of its body, it can easily turn and bite — but if you get a forked stick and pin the snake behind its head, and then pick up the snake just behind its jaws, you’ll be safe and sound. So it is with understanding my teaching, says the Buddha. It’s not simply a matter of hearing the teaching, or being able to recite it — it’s about holding it in the right way. To shift the metaphor: a scalpel can be used to save life or to end it. Powerful ideas are dangerous, and can do significant damage if they aren’t handled with skill and care.

2) This week in Mark, we come face to face with arguably the most difficult, challenging, and dangerous of Jesus’ teachings: the idea that Jesus must suffer, die, and rise again, and that anyone who seeks to be his disciple must “deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (8:34). The disciples are perplexed, Peter is offended, and Jesus takes them to task for misunderstanding him — and so we should be cautious about whether or not we understand him ourselves. There are snakes slithering in the grass here, and if the disciples are any indication, mistaken conclusions abound. In Mark, this is the first of three cycles in which (a) Jesus predicts his passion and suffering; (b) the disciples misunderstand; and (c) Jesus responds with a discourse on the true nature of discipleship (see Mark 9:31-50 and 10:33-45 for the other two cycles).

3) This difficult teaching is immediately followed by the Transfiguration, which, as we saw a couple of weeks ago, can be read as a kind of radiant reassurance for the bewildered disciples. And it’s immediately preceded by the story of Jesus and Peter discussing who Jesus really is — and as we’ll see below, that exchange is so deeply connected with today’s passage that we recommend including it in the reading this week (that is, beginning at 8:27 instead of 8:31).

4) Since the Season of Lent leads to the cross and the empty tomb, this passage orients us to the road ahead. As we follow the lectionary, we’ll turn to selections from John’s Gospel over the next three weeks, returning to Mark on Palm Sunday.

5) This week's passage from Genesis is part of the story of God’s covenant with Abraham and Sarah. Last week we heard the story of God’s covenant with all living creatures in the story of Noah; here God covenants with the couple whose descendants will become the people of Israel, the particular group through whom “all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen 12:3). A universal covenant (the Noah story) is followed by a particular one, though it’s still for the sake of the whole. Both covenants are called “everlasting” and in that sense are not subject to human failing or forfeiture: God establishes these covenants and promises they will never end. A powerful way of thinking about all of this is that it’s not so much that God makes a series of separate covenants here and there, but rather that God’s covenantal relationship with creation unfolds in salvation history, like a single flower blooming over time, with later covenants (in Moses’ day, in Jesus’ day, as prophesied by Jeremiah, and so on) helping to reveal the inner depth and beauty of what was there all along.

Scripture:

1) Backing up a bit, beginning with verse 27: Answering Jesus’ famous question, “Who do you say that I am?”, Peter declares, “You are the Messiah” (literally “the Anointed” or “the Christ”) — which is the very word Mark uses to open the Gospel (Mark 1:1). And so it would appear that Peter — for once — gets it right! But alas, not so fast. As if sensing that Peter might have something quite different in mind, Jesus describes the true nature of messiahship — and Peter, confounded and anxious, takes him aside and rebukes him.

2) Why? In first-century Palestine, a prevailing view was that the Messiah would come and lead a military triumph, routing the Roman occupiers and restoring the Davidic monarchy, and Peter may well have been thinking along similar lines. At any rate, he has no stomach for the notion that the Messiah would be disgraced by suffering and death. But Jesus understands messiahship in terms similar to those outlined in Isaiah’s “Suffering Servant,” a mysterious figure who will deliver God’s people not with swords and chariots, but rather through his own affliction and suffering on behalf of others, through “pouring himself out unto death” (Isaiah 53:12) — and ultimately through his eventual exaltation (compare the resonant themes in Philippians 2:6-11). Evocative and enigmatic, these ideas have been debated for centuries, by Jews and Christians alike.

3) Jesus draws the strongest possible contrast between Peter’s ideas of messiahship and his own, identifying the former with Satan’s temptation and a stark opposition to “divine things.” As if his frustration with his disciples drives him to issue a public announcement of his mission, he calls “the crowd with his disciples” to gather around and listen — and then he delivers this week’s teaching.

4) Anyone who wants to follow him, Jesus declares, will have to “deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” A deep physics is at work here, with the very act of seeking to save one’s life causing the seeker to lose it, while the one who seeks to give up one’s life “for my sake, and the sake of the gospel, will save it.” In the overall flow of the story, the implication here is that for Jesus, Peter’s view of messiahship amounts to a form of self-centered grasping, whereas Jesus has come for the 180-degree-opposite reason: to live for God and neighbor in love. To give, not grasp.

5) Perhaps the most accessible and familiar expression of this "deep physics" is the end of the famous prayer attributed to St. Francis (he didn’t write it, but much of it is in keeping with his spirit): “let me not seek so much / to be consoled as to console, / to be understood as to understand, / to be loved as to love, / for it is in giving that we receive, / it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, / and it is in dying that we are raised to eternal life.”

6) It’s worth noting that Jesus does not say, “Seek out a cross and then follow me,” but rather “take up your cross and follow me.” This is no invitation to court, intensify, or prolong suffering (after all, to do so would violate what Mark calls the “first commandment,” to love God and love your neighbor as yourself — which obviously involves loving and respecting yourself!). Rather, the assumptions here are (a) that you already have suffering in your life, including in the future; and (b) that following Jesus, like any meaningful mission, will entail some suffering. The invitation, then, is not to seek out but rather to “take up” that suffering, to seize the role of active protagonist in the drama, not the role of a passive victim; and then to follow Jesus along the Way that leads to health, liberation, restoration, and new life.

7) The story of God’s covenant with Abraham is both miraculous (given Abram and Sarai’s old age) and delightful (Abram cannot help but laugh at the news of a new baby, as does Sarah in the next chapter; “Isaac” means “he laughed”). But perhaps what’s most distinctive about this passage is the way the covenant is marked by signs, both physically and socially. Circumcision is one such sign, of course (circumcision was not uncommon in the ancient world, though it was typically administered at the onset of puberty; the shift to infancy suggests that in the ancient Hebrew imagination, God’s covenant covered the whole span of life). But another covenantal sign here is receiving a new name: God renames Abram as “Abraham,” evoking the Hebrew words for “father” (‘ab) and “multitude” (hamon), thus signalling his new identity as “father of a multitude.” And likewise, Sarah’s new name (“princess”) anticipates the royalty who will number among her descendents (Genesis 17:6). The deep poetry here is that participation in God’s covenant involves substantive signs of commitment and community.

Takeaways:

1) These are challenging, enigmatic, generative ideas. They’re meant to be wrestled with for a lifetime; they don’t reduce to a single formula or slogan. For millennia, Christians have been debating how best to understand the cross and the empty tomb, and no ecumenical church council has ever been called to settle the question. This intentional openness itself is instructive: we are dealing here with great mysteries, and multiple ways of understanding them are both possible and welcome.  

2) Why are the cross and the empty tomb — Good Friday and Easter Sunday — at the heart of Christian faith? Is it because Jesus thereby shows us love and mercy even unto death? Is it because Jesus, by rising from the dead, defeats death-dealing forces once and for all? Is it because Jesus, by “becoming a curse for us” (Galatians 3:13), cancels all debts and so sets us free? Is it because Jesus subversively transforms some of the worst things in the world (the Roman cross and betrayal among friends) into some of the best things in the world (the Tree of Life and forgiveness among enemies) — thus effectively proclaiming that God will redeem everything in the end? Is it because the cross declares God’s compassionate solidarity with all who suffer? Is it because, to borrow a phrase from Mary Oliver, this story will break our hearts open, never to close again to the rest of the world? Is it all of these things and more?

3) That said, there are plenty of snakes in the grass here, plenty of ways to get bitten. One is to understand messiahship in terms of coercive conquest and self-centered gain. Another is the myth of redemptive violence, the idea that suffering itself can save. Yet another is the notion that we are called to pursue suffering, the better to participate in Jesus’ passion. All three of these ideas are diametrically opposed to the Gospel, and should be called out as such. True messiahship is about compassion, not conquest. Suffering doesn’t save; rather, God saves, and one of the things God saves us from is our violent ways, including our destructive ideas about the redemptive powers of violence and suffering. Likewise, Jesus doesn’t call us to pursue or prolong suffering; rather, he calls us to end or alleviate suffering whenever possible, and when suffering can’t be avoided, to “take it up” and follow Jesus, healer and liberator, into God’s dawning new world where "mourning and crying and pain will be no more" (Revelation 21:4; Isaiah 25:8).

4) Remember, Jesus puts forward this difficult teaching in direct counterpoint to the conventional view of the Messiah as a military conqueror. In effect, “take up your cross” is meant as a contrast to “vanquish your enemies,” whether those enemies are military, personal, or otherwise; “deny yourself” is meant as a contrast to “arrogate power for yourself!” In other words, Jesus contends that the heart of one conventional view of messiahship is a self-centered attempt to seize advantage over others — and he will have none of it. In Mark, Jesus’ path is a way of humility, healing, and liberation, not grasping, dominance, and destruction. 

5) Following Jesus is nonetheless challenging, of course. Letting go of illusions and opening up to new life is always challenging. Unfurling our self-centered lives into lives of love, and thereby recovering our true selves as the loving creatures we are made to be, is always challenging. Giving instead of grasping, generosity instead of vengeance, is always challenging. In short, living in covenant with God pushes us to grow. Accordingly, as we follow Jesus this Lent (and always), we may well feel growing pains in our bodies and relationships — and in the end, we may be changed by the covenantal struggle. We may receive a new identity, a new role, or even a new name. With Abraham and Sarah, we may catch ourselves laughing with incredulous delight at the wonders God has done.

Check out SALT’s “Strange New World” podcast episode connected to these readings: “Ten Ways of Looking at the Cross.”

Refreshing Creation

What a curious story Mark’s Gospel provides:

     About that time, Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and John baptized him in the Jordan River. While he was coming up out of the water, Jesus saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. And there was a voice from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness.”

     At once the Spirit forced Jesus out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness for forty days, tempted by Satan. He was among the wild animals, and the angels took care of him. – Mark 1:9-15 (Common English Bible)

     Jesus was in his later adulthood.  He was charged with looking after his aged mother, who may have been in her mid 40’s by then.  Yet he was not alone in this responsibility – he had brothers and sisters who surely helped, too. We don’t know a lot about Jesus’ life before his adult ministry began, so we can only guess that he was captivated by what John the Baptist was declaring – God was about to do something significant, perhaps to overthrow Rome’s oppression and restore Israel once more? Jesus was ready to offer himself to God in whatever way that meant, which led him to get baptized.  When he came out of the water, the Spirit of God anointed him. Note that he was not yet anointed beforehand according to this account – which serves to remind us that Mark doesn’t offer us a birth narrative that depicts Jesus as a demigod.  Having experienced this touch of God and pronouncement of God’s favor, Jesus decided to take a minute to sort out its implications.  He went camping.  My kind of guy!

     In the wilderness he was tempted by Satan.  While we may get distracted by such a moniker, try to let go of all the devilish images that might come to mind and instead see this as a period of time when Jesus takes a hard look at his motivations. In what sorts of ventures does he really want to invest himself – his time, his mind, his energy? What will be his True North?  Other Gospels delineate the content of the temptations: choosing to keep God as primary, choosing to live by God’s instruction, and choosing to give God honor and recognition. Jesus chose not to give his allegiance to these themes related to power, fame, fortune, and ego.  As Ilia Delio describes, opening to God in such a way is playing with fire:

Love is a fire of transformation that constantly needs wood to keep the fire alive. Real fire is destructive; throw yourself into a fire and you will be destroyed. God’s fire is destructive too because it can swiftly eliminate all self-illusions, grandiose ideas, ego-inflation, and self-centeredness. Throw yourself into the spiritual fire of divine love and everything you grasp for yourself will be destroyed until there is nothing left but the pure truth of yourself (Birth of a Dancing Star: From Cradle Catholic to Cyborg Christian, Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2019: 155–156). (More on fire here).

The experience in the wilderness refined Jesus, preparing him for the ministry before him. I wonder if we could benefit from the same? How well do we welcome this fire?

     Jesus came out of the wilderness with a fire in his belly and a clear message: “After John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee announcing God’s good news, saying, ‘Now is the time! Here comes God’s kingdom! Change your hearts and lives, and trust this good news!’ (Mark 1:15 CEB).  The time of possibility has arrived – and is always arriving.  What are we going to do with this opportunity?

     Bruce Epperly, in his book Simplicity, Spirituality, and Service, offers helpful insight to help orient our lives as Jesus did (which Francis, Clare, and Bonaventure did as well). Consider the following words of wisdom:

     Jewish mystics note that if you save a soul, it is as if you have saved the world; if you destroy a soul, it is as if you have destroyed the world. Even the smallest of actions—hugging a person with leprosy, welcoming an undocumented worker as kin, choosing to eat lower on the food chain—can be a factor in transforming the world. The challenges we face today often seem beyond our capabilities, and we are tempted to give up hope, until we realize with Francis that the world is saved one act at a time, and we can turn the tides of life, individually and corporately, from hate to love and death to life (108).

     Fidelity to God requires us to change our lifestyles, live more simply, transform the goals of our institutions from consumption to preservation, and claim humbly our roles as God’s companions in healing the earth. While the success of our quest for environmental healing is not assured, our calling is to take up the task for God, our children and grandchildren, future generations we will never meet, and for our planet in all its wondrous diversity (116).

     Francis and Clare challenge us to seek God’s pathway of healing and peace, which is found in self-transcendence and kinship with all creation. Peace and healing come when we sacrifice self-interest, and the defensiveness that comes with it, for world loyalty, and the expansiveness that emerges when we love our neighbors as ourselves, not just spiritually but in our daily economic choices and commitment to healing the planet and its creatures (117).

     How will we respond to Jesus’ example and call?  Epperly offers practical suggestions for sorting out our own priorities as Jesus did, but you may not be required to reserve a camp site! Consider the following:

     Consider the Lilies. In this spiritual examination, consider what role the nonhuman world and God’s realm have in your life. Begin your time of spiritual reflection with a time of stillness, asking God for guidance as you look honestly at your values and lifestyle. Then, allow ample time, perhaps over a few days, to consider the following:

·       What values determine your day-to-day life, including your purchasing and personal attention?

·       Are your daily values and economic behaviors congruent with your spiritual beliefs?

·       Where do you experience anxiety or stress in your life?

·       Is there any relationship between your daily anxieties and your economic life and time commitments?

·       How would your life change if you placed God’s realm first?

·       How would this shape your purchases, charitable giving, relationships to family, friends, and strangers?

·       How would it influence your political involvement?

·       What one thing can you do, as a first step, to align yourself more fully with God’s realm?

·       Conclude by giving thanks for the opportunity for self-examination and the ability to change.

     Simplicity of Spirit. Spiritual simplicity is more important than ever. Francis and Clare sought holy poverty to deepen their relationship with God, align themselves with God’s vision for their lives, and experience solidarity with all creation. Holy simplicity reminded them of their dependence on God and interdependence with all creation. We need to embrace these values today. We also need to embrace a fresh simplicity of spirit, reflected in simplicity of life and transformed approaches to economics. We must, as St. Elizabeth Ann Seton asserted, “live simply so others may simply live.” More than that, our simplicity of life is essential for planetary survival. We need to declutter our material and spiritual lives, liberating ourselves from consumerism to become God’s companions in planetary healing. In this spiritual exercise, take time to consider the following, after a time of prayerful silence and petitionary prayer for God to guide your attitude toward material possessions and consumption.

·       How do you evaluate your economic life?

·       Do you have sufficient resources to live comfortably and provide for your own and others’ needs and to be generous to causes that are important to you?

·       How do you feel about your possessions?

·       Do you feel comfortable with your current level of consumption?

·       Is it appropriate or too much?

·       How does your consumption relate to others’ well-being, including the nonhuman world?

·       In what ways might you appropriately and safely reduce your consumption of fossil fuels and non-renewable products?

·       What changes might you make to live more simply and sustainably?

·       Ask for God’s guidance in simplifying your life.

·       Ask God to give you wisdom in addressing issues of simplicity with your family and the institutions of which you are a part.

FRESH PRAYER

God of all creation, all creatures great and small, open my eyes to the wonders of your world and my life. Help me to pause and notice. Help me to be aware and amazed, and share my joy with others. Help me to live more simply, to see my consumption in light of the well-being of others and the planet. Let me experience the freedom of spiritual and material simplicity and let me share my wealth to support those in need and causes that promote justice and planetary healing. Amen (123-124).

Unless otherwise specified, all quotes are from Bruce Epperly, Simplicity, Spirituality, Service: The Timeless Wisdom of Francis, Clare, and Bonaventure. Franciscan Media. Kindle Edition.

Mark 1:9-15 Common English Bible

     About that time, Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and John baptized him in the Jordan River. While he was coming up out of the water, Jesus saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. And there was a voice from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness.”

     At once the Spirit forced Jesus out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness for forty days, tempted by Satan. He was among the wild animals, and the angels took care of him.

Jesus’ message

     After John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee announcing God’s good news, saying, “Now is the time! Here comes God’s kingdom! Change your hearts and lives, and trust this good news!”

Commentary from the SALT Project

Lent 1 (Year B): Mark 1:9-15 and Genesis 9:8-17

For more on these two passages, check out this episode of SALT’s podcast, “Strange New World.”

Big Picture:

1) As Lent begins, we return to Mark’s account of Jesus’ baptism, including God’s declaration that Jesus is “my Son, the Beloved” — the same message we heard last week in Mark’s story of the Transfiguration. The baptism is followed by Jesus’ 40 days of being tested in the wilderness; and finally by the sermon with which he begins his public ministry, a clear call for “repentance” — that is, for a “change of mind” or “change of heart” — because “the kingdom of God has come near” (Mark 1:15).

2) The word “Lent” comes from an Old English word for “lengthen,” and refers to the gradually lengthening days of late winter and early spring (in the Northern Hemisphere, of course). Over the centuries, Lent evolved into a 40-day period of reflection, repentance, and preparing not only for Holy Week but also for the subsequent 50-day celebration of Eastertide.

3) Why 40? In the ancient scriptural imagination, “40” was both a stylized way of saying, “for a long time,” and a way of resonating with other key “40’s” in Israel’s sacred memory: the flood’s 40 days and nights of rain (Genesis 7:12), Moses’ 40 days and nights on Mount Sinai (Exodus 34:28), Israel’s 40 years of wilderness wandering (Deuteronomy 8:2), and not least, Jesus’ 40 days of wilderness temptation. The underlying idea here is that God, like a master poet, choreographer, or composer, works through signature forms in time and space — and in the Season of Lent, we’re invited to participate in one of those forms by stepping into our own 40-day pilgrimage of reflection, repentance, prayer, and preparation.

4) If Mark’s reference to “40 days” echoes the story of Noah’s ark, so does the intriguing comment that in the wilderness Jesus was “with the wild beasts.” Throughout his Gospel, Mark portrays Jesus as regularly retreating to the wilderness for prayer and restoration, and this passage suggests that the solace Jesus finds in the wild has something to do with spending time among a wide range of God’s living creatures. From this angle, it’s no wonder Mark ends his Gospel with Jesus instructing his disciples to declare the good news not merely to “all people” but also to “the whole creation” (Mark 16:15). St. Francis, who reportedly preached to the birds, would approve!

5) Many ancient cultures have “great flood” stories in their narrative treasuries, and a high percentage of those stories (a) explain the flood as the result of divine activity, and (b) feature a favored human family who helps preserve animals from the deluge. What’s distinctive about Genesis 6 - 9, then, isn’t the story’s basics but rather its details, tone, and overall upshot. For the authors of Genesis, the flood happens in the first place because God is outraged by the heart-breaking, ubiquitous violence on earth (Genesis 6:11), and sure enough, the flood ends with God’s covenantal promise — to humanity and also to “every living creature” — to disavow such violence once and for all. Thus the story’s authors take a common ancient genre (the “great flood” story) and turn it into both a testament to God’s nonviolent heart and a reminder of humanity’s role as protector, steward, and caretaker of creation.

Scripture:

1) Particularly in the Lenten season of repentance, as we encounter again the story of Jesus’ baptism, it’s striking that Jesus is baptized at all. Mark explicitly frames the rite as “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (Mark 1:4)— and yet Jesus, the very one with whom God is “well pleased,” gets in line with the rest of us. It’s an expression of the mind-bending humility and solidarity of the Incarnation: God stands in line with sinners. And at the same time, it’s an example of how “repentance” can be communal, not just personal: while it’s right and good to repent of our individual failings, it’s also fitting to take responsibility for those things our community has done or left undone that need changing. After all, in the Lord’s Prayer we say, “Forgive us,” not merely “forgive me.”

2) The Spirit seems to appear on the baptismal scene as a gentle, loving dove — but quickly becomes what ancient Celtic Christians dubbed a "wild goose," driving Jesus out into the wilderness, hissing and nipping at his heels. Why? Being tested in the wilderness is a common motif in Hebrew scripture: take the Israelites’ 40 years of wilderness wandering after the exodus, for example, a period the author of Deuteronomy frames as a time of testing, humbling, and strengthening. 

3) It’s as if Mark is saying: Just as ancient Israel was tested and strengthened in the wilderness for 40 years before entering the promised land, so too Jesus was tested and strengthened in the wilderness for 40 days. In this way, we can recognize him as a new personification of God’s people, a new shepherd, a new Moses ushering former captives into a new freedom, and ultimately into a new promised land of redemption. Accordingly, in Matthew’s version of the story, Jesus stands up to the devil’s temptations by directly citing Deuteronomy’s account of Israel’s wilderness wandering (Matthew 4:1-11).

4) In storytelling, “firsts” always matter, and Mark’s account of Jesus’ first sermon is no exception. The sermon — blessed in its brevity! — comes in four parts: (a) “The time is fulfilled”: a reference to the dawn of a new era, evoking God’s Jubilee, the promised new day the prophets proclaim; (b) “the kingdom of God has come near”: despite how things might seem, God’s active reign of love, justice, and peace is breaking into the world here and now; in fact, it’s so near you can see it and hear it and smell it and reach out and touch it; (c) “repent”: because of this nearness, we’re called to repentance; the underlying Greek term here is metanoia (meta, “change” + noia, “mind”); today we might say “change of heart” or “change of life”; and finally, (d) “believe in the good news”: trust that all of this is true, and rejoice! Because if we aren’t dancing with genuine joy — we didn’t hear the news!

5) What should we make of the idea that Jesus is “with the wild beasts”? This week’s passage from Genesis provides some clues. Here is the first divine covenant in the Bible, and it’s described as both “everlasting” and ecologically universal in scope. God’s promise never again to destroy the earth is made to all of humanity, yes, but also to all living creatures, and even to the earth itself (Genesis 9:13). God puts down the divine bow — an archer’s bow — in the clouds, an amazing, technicolored icon of nonviolence. And via Noah’s family, humanity is given a second chance to live up to our original vocation as those who care for creation and all its creatures. In this way, the deep poetry of Genesis suggests that Jesus is together “with the wild beasts” not as foes but as friends. Here at the genesis of his ministry, we get a beautiful glimpse of that peaceable kingdom to come.

Takeaways:

1) As Lent begins, this is the perfect week to reflect on the season and what it means in Christian life: an invitation to a 40-day journey of reflection, repentance, and preparation for the great mystery of the empty tomb. Now is the time to change our lives, to embark upon a kind of soulful spring cleaning. What in our personal and communal lives needs repentance or renewal, a “change of heart” or “change of life”? How do we need to be both humbled and strengthened? How can we better prepare for the radiant 50 days of Easter? Might a sojourn in the wilderness “with the wild beasts” be just what we need?

2) Jesus’ first sermon can be a template for preaching, for a season, or for a lifetime. Each of its parts is essential: a new day is dawning; it’s near enough to touch; so, change your life; and rejoice! If the sermon’s core is, Because God’s wonderful new world is dawning, repent!, its mistaken opposite is, Because you have repented, God’s new world is dawning! That is, the basis of Christian life is not our repentance, not our good works; rather, the basis of Christian life is what God has done and is doing, and our good works flow from the joyous, thankful recognition of that graceful liberation. True repentance — changing our lives and hearts for the better — flows from God’s activity in the world, not the other way around. In this way, Jesus' sermon is a call not into anxious exertion, but rather into gratitude and joy.

3) One “change of life” these two passages point toward involves our care for God’s creation, and in particular our role as guardians of the earth’s vitality and variety in the midst of the ongoing catastrophe some have called "the sixth extinction." One might reflect this week on the ways in which creation care is at the center of Christian faith. Originally created to “till and keep” the garden, and then given a second chance to reclaim that birthright through the new creation in the story of the ark full of “wild beasts,” we are clearly, continually called to care for the whole buzzing, blooming menagerie. After all, God’s great covenant isn’t just with us — it’s with “all flesh that is on the earth” (Genesis 9:17).

4) All of this is only intensified, of course, in the context of the blanket of pollution we’re currently spewing into the sky, overheating the planet: 2023 was the hottest year on record; the last ten years are the hottest ten years on record; and last month was the hottest January on record (and in particular, the temperature of the sea so far this year is the hottest we’ve ever seen). The time has come for clear, effective action: check out SALT’s new devotional and action planner, “Climate + Faith: How We Can Help Meet the Greatest Challenge in Human History.”

For more on these two biblical passages, check out this episode of SALT’s podcast, “Strange New World.”

Fresh Church

This week’s lectionary texts from the older and newer testaments which will be read and talked about by most churches around the world recall the Prophet Elijah’s ascent to heaven on a chariot of fire and Jesus’ transfiguration.  Two weird, mystical accounts to draw our attention to the Greater Other to help us remember to keep first things first, seeking the Kingdom of God (attunement) above all else in everything we do. The view from the mountain above casts the vision for the valley below.

Epperly notes that “mysticism leads to mission, and mission always challenges the status quo with the vision of God’s new creation (91).” After witnessing Elijah’s ascension, Elisha was emboldened in his faith in God as were the disciples as they recalled the transfiguration.  Their vision was refreshed, and with it came what Epperly describes as an “adventurous spirituality”:

Adventurous spirituality affirms that all are beloved and gifted to love and serve, and to be cherished and served. If God’s center is everywhere, as Bonaventure asserts, then every person is equally centered by God, regardless of gender, sexual identity, race and ethnicity, intelligence, age, or nation of origin. Our calling is to help our kin find their unique spiritual center as their unrepeatable gift to the world. God speaks in the voices of infants and elders, Europeans and Afghans, gay theologians, and heterosexual organists, [Americans] and Somalians, celibate priests and married parents (100-101).

The view from the mountain above casts the vision for the valley below.

There are serious implications inherent in such a vision of the world because the field of play is leveled for all people and creation itself.  We are no longer afforded the myth of independence when everything in our actual experience affirms interdependence.  Epperly continues:

What happens to refugee children, Ukrainian parents, right whale pups, and polar bears on ice caps matters to us because in the intricate interdependence of life, our joys and sorrows are one...  In an interdependent world, the most pitiable—and dangerous—person and institution is the one that believes its well-being is isolated from the well-being of the community and the planet. Notions of “me first,” “congregation first,” and “nation first” ultimately go against our personal, congregational, national, and planetary well-being; they also go against the structure of God’s world, where individuality and community, solitude and relationship, cannot be separated. From this perspective, the inner and outer are one in the spiritual journey and the mystic’s experience. The church that prays is also the church that sacrifices and risks its own reputation to stand with the poor (101).

The view from the mountain above casts the vision for the valley below.

Martin Luther King, Jr., had been to the mountaintop, he had seen the Promised Land, casting the vision for his work in one of our nation’s darkest valleys (racism’s segregation and voting rights violations). What’s your personal valley? What are some of the larger valleys that you feel passionate about? How does the view from the mountain cast the vision for those valleys below?

A “fresh church” is a community of faithful, adventurous visionaries captivated and compelled by the love of God for all creation which constantly competes with other visions vying for our allegiance. The question for those who desire to be faithful is simply, which vision will we allow to most captivate, inform, and compel us forward?

FRESH PRAYER Open my senses to the world’s suffering. Open my heart to God’s pain in the pain of the world. Open my hands to give selfless and generous service. Open my tongue that I might speak to everyone as if they were an angel, addressing them with respect and compassion. Let me see you, O Jesus, in all creatures, and act always to bring beauty to your life and the world. Amen (105-106).

All quotes, unless otherwise noted, are from Bruce Epperly’s book, Simplicity, Spirituality, Service: The Timeless Wisdom of Francis, Clare, and Bonaventure. Franciscan Media. Kindle Edition.

2 Kings 2:1-14 MSG

     Just before GOD took Elijah to heaven in a whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on a walk out of Gilgal. Elijah said to Elisha, "Stay here. GOD has sent me on an errand to Bethel."

     Elisha said, "Not on your life! I'm not letting you out of my sight!" So they both went to Bethel.

     The guild of prophets at Bethel met Elisha and said, "Did you know that GOD is going to take your master away from you today?"

     "Yes," he said, "I know it. But keep it quiet."

     Then Elijah said to Elisha, "Stay here. GOD has sent me on an errand to Jericho."

     Elisha said, "Not on your life! I'm not letting you out of my sight!" So they both went to Jericho.

     The guild of prophets at Jericho came to Elisha and said, "Did you know that GOD is going to take your master away from you today?"

     "Yes," he said, "I know it. But keep it quiet."

     Then Elijah said to Elisha, "Stay here. GOD has sent me on an errand to the Jordan."

     Elisha said, "Not on your life! I'm not letting you out of my sight!" And so the two of them went their way together.

     Meanwhile, fifty men from the guild of prophets gathered some distance away while the two of them stood at the Jordan.

     Elijah took his cloak, rolled it up, and hit the water with it. The river divided and the two men walked through on dry land.

     When they reached the other side, Elijah said to Elisha, "What can I do for you before I'm taken from you? Ask anything."

     Elisha said, "Your life repeated in my life. I want to be a holy man just like you."

     "That's a hard one!" said Elijah. "But if you're watching when I'm taken from you, you'll get what you've asked for. But only if you're watching."

     And so it happened. They were walking along and talking. Suddenly a chariot and horses of fire came between them and Elijah went up in a whirlwind to heaven. Elisha saw it all and shouted, "My father, my father! You—the chariot and cavalry of Israel!" When he could no longer see anything, he grabbed his robe and ripped it to pieces. Then he picked up Elijah's cloak that had fallen from him, returned to the shore of the Jordan, and stood there. He took Elijah's cloak—all that was left of Elijah!—and hit the river with it, saying, "Now where is the GOD of Elijah? Where is he?"

     When he struck the water, the river divided and Elisha walked through.

Mark 9:2-9 MSG

     Jesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain. His appearance changed from the inside out, right before their eyes. His clothes shimmered, glistening white, whiter than any bleach could make them. Elijah, along with Moses, came into view, in deep conversation with Jesus.

     Peter interrupted, "Rabbi, this is a great moment! Let's build three memorials—one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah." He blurted this out without thinking, stunned as they all were by what they were seeing.

     Just then a light-radiant cloud enveloped them, and from deep in the cloud, a voice: "This is my Son, marked by my love. Listen to him."

     The next minute the disciples were looking around, rubbing their eyes, seeing nothing but Jesus, only Jesus.

     Coming down the mountain, Jesus swore them to secrecy. "Don't tell a soul what you saw. After the Son of Man rises from the dead, you're free to talk."

Commentary from the Salt Project

Epiphany 6 (Year B): Mark 9:1-10 and 2 Kings 2:1-12

Big Picture:

1) This is the last week of the Season of Epiphany. For Mark, the Transfiguration is in many ways the mother of all epiphany stories (as you know, “epiphany” means “showing forth”), since it reveals Jesus as a prophet par excellence, and above all, as God’s Beloved Child (9:7).

2) The episode takes place at almost the exact midpoint of Mark’s Gospel, as well as its highest geographical elevation (the reference to Caesarea Philippi in 8:27 suggests that this mountain is likely Mount Hermon, the highest peak in Syro-Palestine — and the same one referenced in Psalm 133, where “dwelling together in unity” is compared to the lovely “dew of Hermon”). In broad strokes, the first eight chapters of Mark describe Jesus’ ascent, his ministry of healing and liberation, and the last eight chapters describe the descent into his passion and death, arriving finally at the stunning news of his empty tomb. The Transfiguration stands as the fulcrum, a high point and pivot point between these two great sections of Jesus’ journey.

3) In the verses just before this passage, Jesus articulates what is arguably his most disturbing, difficult teaching of all (we’ll tackle it head-on in a couple of weeks): that he must suffer, die, and rise again, and that anyone who wishes to follow him must “deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me” (8:34). The disciples are understandably bewildered by these ideas, and Peter even argues with Jesus, rebuking him and refusing to believe. The Transfiguration’s brilliant light, then, acts as a kind of reassurance for the disciples (including us!). It’s as if Mark is saying: We’re now making the turn toward Golgotha, and that means descending into the valley of the shadow of death. But fear not! Keep this astonishing, mysterious mountaintop story in mind as we go. Carry it like a torch, for it can help show the way — not least because it gives us a glimpse of where all this is headed...

4) Along with 1 & 2 Samuel, 1 & 2 Kings recount the saga of Israel’s monarchies, and this week's passage from 2 Kings is the story of a gifted prophet (Elijah) passing the baton to his protégé (Elisha). This passage helpfully features Elijah, of course, who in Mark appears on the mountaintop with Jesus; but it also provides a portrait of ancient Israel’s prevailing model of prophetic succession. Elisha does not surpass or supersede Elijah, but rather follows in his footsteps, quite literally picking up Elijah’s “mantle” (his cloak), carrying on his mentor's mission (2:13). As we’ll see, Mark picks up on this basic pattern.

5) By Mark’s day, many Jews considered Elijah to be an eschatological figure whose return would signal the imminent end of the age (see, for example, Malachi 4:5-6). The fascination with Elijah was no doubt partly due to this story in 2 Kings of his being swirled up directly into heaven at the end of his life, avoiding the sting of death itself — a turn of events taken as a vivid sign of his holiness and devotion.

Scripture:

1) Mark 9:1 continues Jesus’ comments in the last verses of Chapter 8, essentially underscoring them with a sense of urgency; in 9:2, the story’s new episode begins. (The numerical chapters and verses were added centuries after Mark was written — and they’re not always precisely on target!)

2) The conspicuous timestamp — “Six days later” — is likely an allusion to the “six days” Moses spends in the cloud atop Mount Sinai before God calls out to him (Exodus 24:15-16). Likewise, the shining garments recall Moses’ radiance when he descended from Sinai (Exodus 34:29-35), and at the same time anticipate the angel’s white robe in the empty tomb to come (Mark 16:5). Finally, the story's cloud and divine voice evoke the portrait of God's presence in Exodus 24. In this way, Mark casts this mountaintop encounter with God in terms of Israel’s classic paradigm, thus positioning his gospel within the broad sweep of salvation history.  

3) What happens up there? It’s beyond explanation, of course, but at its heart it’s a vision of that mysterious heavenly realm, and indeed of the world to come. Time and space seem to collapse; the world somehow becomes incandescent; and Jesus is suddenly seen engaging Israel’s two most prestigious prophets in collegial conversation. The disciples are understandably overwhelmed and afraid, and Peter (never at a loss for words!) stammers a suggestion: Shall we build you three tents? It's a bumbling, endearing proposal, if a bit tone-deaf and presumptuous (after all, if these three great prophets wanted shelter, they likely would have already made arrangements!). Is Peter thinking of the Greek custom of building a shrine at the site of a god’s appearance? Is he trying to corral the astounding wonder into something more manageable, more domesticated? Or is he simply “terrified” (9:6), grasping for something to say, something to offer?

4) Emanating from a cloud, God’s voice reprises the message at Jesus’ baptism (Mark 1:11). It may be that only Jesus hears the voice in that earlier scene (for there God says, “You are my Son...”), whereas here the announcement is addressed to all who have ears to hear (“This is my Son…”). At any rate, Jesus nevertheless orders his three disciples to keep his identity a secret until after he has “risen from the dead.” For Mark, true messiahship comes not with trumpets and chariots, but rather in the deeply hidden form of a suffering servant; accordingly, it must be concealed until the resurrection, the ultimate Epiphany. It won’t be long now, Mark insists. The end of the age is at hand; Elijah has come in the form of John the Baptist (see Jesus’ oblique comment in 9:13); and now the Child of Humanity, God’s Beloved, turns toward Jerusalem.

5) Most Jews in Mark’s day would have been familiar with the concept of resurrection at the end of the age, but it was typically thought of as a communal, general resurrection of all God’s people. Mark’s view seems to be that Jesus will rise as a kind of harbinger, a reassuring “first fruits” of that wider resurrection to come (compare Paul’s version of this idea in 1 Corinthians 15:20).  

6) The Transfiguration ends as abruptly as it began. The two former prophets suddenly vanish, and the disciples find themselves with Jesus alone. Mark’s message here isn’t that Jesus somehow eclipses or supersedes Moses and Elijah, but rather that he stands in profound kinship and continuity with them, both carrying on and culminating their work. In other words, Jesus succeeds them — and just as Elisha’s succession of Elijah involves not a demotion but rather an exaltation of the elder figure, so too with Jesus. Mark honors Moses and Elijah in this story, even as Jesus steps forward as God’s Beloved, the One to whom his disciples must listen.

Takeaways:

1) In the context of the overall narrative, Mark’s central point in the Transfiguration story is this: the suffering and death of Jesus may at first appear as an unthinkable, desecrating defeat, but it’s actually a step toward a dramatic, subversive victory. Jesus will now venture into the shadows of death — precisely in order to scatter those shadows once and for all, overcoming them in the end with shimmering light. Jesus will go down into the depths of what can only be called godforsaken — precisely in order to lift the world up into renewed intimacy with God, the sort of intimacy familiar to Moses (the one who “knew God face to face” (Deut 34:10) and even “mouth to mouth” (Num 12:8)), familiar to Elijah (the one who heard God in “the sound of sheer silence” (1 Kings 19:12)), and familiar to Jesus, God’s beloved child. So take heart! And “listen to him” — that is, continue to trust and walk with Jesus, following in his footsteps and taking up his mantle, even though the path ahead now seems strewn with danger and disgrace. Radiant beauty awaits — on the other side of Golgotha.

2) Think of this passage itself as a “high mountain” at the center of Mark’s Gospel. On one side, we climb up through stories of Jesus’ healing, liberating ministry. And on the other side, we’ll descend to the cross. Today, we arrive at a clearing on the mountaintop — and from here we can survey both how far we’ve come and the Lenten journey ahead.

3) Epiphany concludes today: Jesus has "shown forth" to be a healer and a liberator; a teacher and a shining prophet. The “unclean spirit” has called him “the Holy One of God;” Peter has called him “the Messiah” (Mark 8:29). But most fundamentally and decisively, he is God’s beloved child. His path of love will lead down into the valley, through the dry cinders of Ash Wednesday and the tears of the Via Dolorosa, the Way of Sorrow, all the way to Easter Sunday and the Way of Life. Here atop Mount Hermon, we can survey the 40 days ahead, take a deep breath — and remember that the journey through ashes and sorrow is never for its own sake. It's for the sake of what comes next. In a word, it's for the sake of transfiguration: a radiant new life and a dazzling new world.

Green and Growing Prayer

I was shaped heavily by the caricatured 1980’s theme of narcissistic greed.  The Breakfast Club, a classic movie depicting High School life in that decade, could have been shot at my Upper-Middle-Class school in Okemos, Michigan. I am glad culture has evolved since then, yet I am cognizant of the fact that the lure of fame and fortune in large and small ways exists in every person born in every era. As a pastor and as a human being wanting to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, living in a culture that is radically focused on individual success and wellbeing, I wonder about what it takes for us to wake up from our self-centered stupor? What does it even look like to not be self-absorbed? Beyond creating a more just society where laws protect against mistreatment, how does a society’s heart change?

     Martin Luther King, Jr. stated that unless justice is for everyone, justice exists for no one.  I wonder if the same is true of the eternally flowing love and grace of God. More to the egocentric point, could it be that unless and until – or to the extent that we look beyond ourselves to the needs of others – we will not really experience the love and grace we desperately need?  This is reminiscent of the line in the Lord’s Prayer: Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, or a statement Jesus made that unless we forgive, we will not be forgiven (Matthew 6:15). To forgive others for selfish purposes seems antithetical, though, right? Perhaps what is being stated is simply this: when we are in the flow of love and grace, we extend love and grace and quite effortlessly receive and experience love and grace in return.  This feels like a much better fit with the person of Jesus than religiosity’s typical approach to turning faith into a list of contractual obligations that must be met to get God to act graciously.

     How do we cultivate this way of life Jesus taught and modeled? What can we do to offset the cultural pressures and human desires that support various levels of hedonistic attitudes and behaviors? The problem: we may be missing the most important thing that we desire from faith, and we cannot attain it simply by checking a task list box or following rules (as important as those lists may be). The Way is cultivated more than prescribed.

     That we are selfish animals who want good things for at least ourselves presents a challenge to The Way that calls for compassion.  This is hard-wired into us. Just as there is no need to apologize for wanting and desiring oxygen, neither should we feel shame or guilt for wanting to feel connected to God and the deep peace it can bring. Yet that’s not the end goal or point for Jesus. It seems that the more he experienced the love of God flowing through him the more his gaze turned toward a world in need, as seen in this account from the Gospel of Mark:

After Jesus left the synagogue with James and John, they went to Simon and Andrew’s home. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was sick in bed with a high fever. They told Jesus about her right away. So he went to her bedside, took her by the hand, and helped her sit up. Then the fever left her, and she prepared a meal for them.

     That evening after sunset, many sick and demon-possessed people were brought to Jesus. The whole town gathered at the door to watch. So Jesus healed many people who were sick with various diseases, and he cast out many demons. But because the demons knew who he was, he did not allow them to speak.

     Before daybreak the next morning, Jesus got up and went out to an isolated place to pray. Later Simon and the others went out to find him. When they found him, they said, “Everyone is looking for you.”

     But Jesus replied, “We must go on to other towns as well, and I will preach to them, too. That is why I came.” So he traveled throughout the region of Galilee, preaching in the synagogues and casting out demons. – Mark 1:29-39 NLT

The overwhelming grace of God compelled Jesus to extend grace to all others, so that the recipients could do the same. Peter’s mother-in-law was healed and then immediately used her gifts to serve others – this isn’t a “nobody else can make a sandwich except for a woman” story. This is a story of healing that allowed this woman to use her gifts and position to provide hospitality to her guests. To not be able to do that in such a context would have been a great disappointment – maybe even humiliating – for the woman.  The natural connection seems to be that when we are healed, restored, refreshed, renewed, etc., we quite naturally want to extend the same.  Think Scrooge when he woke up Christmas morning, or George Bailey’s joy when his nightmare ended. Genuine love and grace move us to extend love and grace.

     The Apostle Paul’s life was transformed by grace, and quite naturally so were his priorities. Listen to his words that indicate a shift from compelling others to fit into his version of religiosity to his commitment to shift to bring grace and love wherever he traveled: When I am with those who are weak, I share their weakness, for I want to bring the weak to Christ. Yes, I try to find common ground with everyone, doing everything I can to save some. I do everything to spread the Good News and share in its blessings.– 1 Cor. 9:21-23 NLT

     This tradition reflects The Way of Jesus passed down through the ages.  As Bruce Epperly notes in his book, Simplicity, Spirituality, Service: The Timeless Wisdom of Francis, Clare, and Bonaventure,

     Francis and Clare reflect an alternative, world-affirming spirituality. The spiritual path taken by most monastics in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries could be described as a journey of ascent from earthly to heavenly things. In contrast to this path of world-denial, Francis and Clare took another path toward God. Their mysticism reflected a “horizontal ecstasy,” in which the journey inward and the journey outward are one and the same. Going deep within, they purified their passion, enabling it to be an aid instead of a hindrance to spiritual maturity (78)... By placing ourselves in God’s presence throughout the day... we experience God as the reality in whom we “live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). Francis opened to God in every encounter. Synchronicity abounds, and when we live prayerfully, every interchange and choice become an opportunity to experience God’s wisdom guiding our daily lives. Spiritual practices open our whole being to God’s call (79-80).

     When we devote ourselves to The Way of Jesus, which is walking in and with and motivated by the Spirit of God, we experience an abundance of Life, Truth, Peace, Joy – all the things our deepest and truest selves yearn for. As we stay in this Way – which requires intentionality because it is countercultural and counter-intuitive – we find that our lives are filled with great meaning and impact, as Epperly notes:

     Franciscan spirituality reminds us that our prayers connect us to all creation and that even something as apparently insignificant as a prayer can open our hearts and hands and tip a situation from death to life. Going inward, we awaken to our pain and the pain of the universe and receive guidance to respond to the overwhelming crises of climate change, poverty, starvation, incivility, and racism. Prayer leads to solidarity and compassion and expands our circle of influence so that one child at a time, one call to a political representative at a time, one sacrificial gift at a time, one act of simplification at a time, the world is healed (82).

     I want this.  I need this. I think the world needs more love and grace, and I want to be part of bringing that to fruition however and wherever I can.  I bet you do, too, in your innermost being. I think staying connected to the Spirit through meditation and daily prayer exercises matters a lot. Yet I also want to state that there is another component that I believe we will overlook and exclude: awakening to our pain and everyone else’s or awakening to our humanity and the humanity we share with every other human being.  I think this may be a key component in keeping us truly grounded and empathetic because it woos us into seeing beyond the labels and prejudice lens with which we see the world.  We choose to see human beings at the border, not “illegals”. We see the anguish of Palestinians and Israelis instead of the harsh rhetoric of their respective leaders. We see real people with real concerns behind their politics. We may even be able to see the human beings within the politicians themselves (though that may take more effort!). There is a reason Clare advised spending time dwelling on the cross – Jesus joined God in suffering the worst humanity could dish out. God is always there with those who suffer. Perhaps when we join those who suffer in various ways, we find ourselves in the presence of God with them, and able to act as God’s hands and feet and mouth and ears in the process. Perhaps our attitude toward those who we might otherwise dismiss is the very litmus test denoting where the invitation to mature is extended. Our biases that keep us excluding become the path that leads to our capacity to greater inclusion.

     May you use the tools below to continue to cultivate The Way into your life so that, more and more, it becomes increasingly natural and effortless.  May you experience grace upon grace as you discover yourself being used of God as a conduit of love and grace to a world hungering for it. May you hear the woo of God taking you into deeper understanding of the humanity of others – especially those you struggle with – as the means toward your own maturing faith.

FRESH PRAYER

     God of change and glory, God of time and space, give me the grace of passion. Enflame me with love for this good earth and all its creatures. Purify my senses, that my delight with embodiment and creation may inspire generosity and compassion. Let love and light burst forth, warming and enlightening my spirit, and giving light to all around me and glory to God, my Creator and Loving Companion. Amen.

Bonus Material!

Tools for Developing you Spirituality and Impact

Every Breath a Prayer. My prayer life has been enriched by practicing breath prayer. As a graduate student, I learned a simple prayer taught by Congregationalist minister Allan Armstrong Hunter:

I breathe the Spirit deeply in,

And blow it gratefully out again (83).

Walking with Jesus. Movement is an important part of Franciscan spirituality. This practice can be done sitting in a chair or on the move. Take time for the following: Breathe deeply and slowly, perhaps using a breath prayer noted above. Ask Jesus to be your companion and reveal himself to you. Then, whether you are walking, sitting, or lying down, visualize Jesus beside you. Image yourself and Jesus joined in conversation and united in spirit. Share your spirit, emotions, thoughts—whatever is on your heart—with Jesus. Listen to his response, whether verbal or non-verbal. If you feel inclined, ask Jesus a question, and then listen for his response in this moment and throughout the day. Ask Jesus to walk beside you in the day ahead and for the sensitivity to know that he is with you. Conclude with a moment of prayerful gratitude (84-85).

All quotes are from Bruce Epperly’s book, Simplicity, Spirituality, Service: The Timeless Wisdom of Francis, Clare, and Bonaventure. Franciscan Media. Kindle Edition.

Commentary from the SALT Project

Epiphany 5 (Year B): Mark 1:29-39 and Isaiah 40:21-31

Big Picture:

1) In last week’s passage, Jesus begins his public ministry by directly confronting an “unclean spirit,” thereby establishing himself as “the Holy One of God,” a healer and liberator opposed to the world’s death-dealing dynamics. This week, Mark continues to develop this opening theme, filling in more substance and color about the mode, purpose, and fruit of this healing, liberating work.

2) In this week’s passage, Mark introduces a key motif in the Gospel, the so-called “Messianic secret”: Jesus’ repeated insistence — to demons and disciples alike — that his true identity not yet be disclosed. This secrecy is part of a striking vision of messiahship: the Anointed One will not come in a dominant, conspicuous form (say, as a triumphant military leader), but rather in a humble, hidden form, a suffering servant, ultimately revealed as Messiah through his death, resurrection, and subsequent community — the church — who will carry on his work.

3) The Book of Isaiah is a layered library in itself, and this week’s passage comes from the layer often called “Second Isaiah,” a section likely written during and just after Israel’s exile in Babylon. Chapter 40 is Second Isaiah’s introductory overture of good news and assurance, in which the prophet proclaims that God cares for the people of Israel and will restore them, and that God’s capacity as “the Creator of the ends of the earth” (v. 28) is more than sufficient to deliver on the promise of restoration. And by the way, the opening section of this larger passage, Isaiah 40:1-11, is the declaration of comfort and hope often associated with Advent and Christmas.  

Scripture:

1) According to Mark, the opening day of Jesus’ ministry is a Sabbath day: he begins by teaching “with authority” in the synagogue, healing a man possessed by “an unclean spirit” — and now, as the day comes to a close, healing Peter’s mother-in-law of a fever. Taken as a whole, this first day prefigures major themes — healing, restoration, hope — that will define the heart of Jesus’ mission.

2) As we saw last week, one of those themes is opposition to death-dealing forces: “the Holy One of God” comes as a healer and a liberator. And while the episode with the possessed man provides a sense of what this liberation is “freedom from,” this week’s story points toward what it is “freedom for.”

3) The passage pivots around four key verbs: proserchomai (“to come near”), krateo (“to take hold”), egeiro(“to waken, to raise”) and diakoneo (“to serve, to minister”). The first two verbs go together: Jesus “comes near” Peter’s mother-in-law, close enough to “take hold” of her hand. Throughout the Gospel, Mark distinctively emphasizes the power of touch, including the idea (as we’ll see in the weeks ahead) that Jesus is unafraid to touch and be touched by the supposedly “unclean.”

4) Having taken her hand, Jesus “raises her up.” The same word (egeiro) is used of Jesus himself at the resurrection — it’s there in the famous line, “He has been raised; he is not here” (Mark 16:6) — and so the term evokes a renewed strength, a reinvigoration, a reawakening, a restoration, a return.

5) And finally, what is she renewed for? For diakonos, “ministry, service,” the same root that gives us the word “deacon” (she is the original deacon!). What’s more, the word diakonos literally means “to kick up dust” — this is an active, practical, on-the-move, change-the-world sort of work. In short, she is lifted up to serve. She is freed for ministry, to kick up some dust and get some things done. She is the pioneer who blazes the trail for the anonymous woman who causes a little dust-up near the end of Mark’s Gospel by anointing Jesus (“what she has done will be told in remembrance of her,” Mark 14:3-9), and also for the group of women at the crucifixion who stay and keep watch and remain with the vandalized body, even as the male disciples panic and flee (see Mark 15:40-41; the Greek word translated as “provided for” is diakoneo).

6) It’s worth recalling here how illness not only debilitates the body, it also can cut a person off from his or her social life and contributions to community — and this can feel like a loss of dignity or purpose. If we take Peter’s mother-in-law seriously as the first deacon (or dust-kicker-upper!), a model of ministry, we can see that her healing is also a restoration to dignity. Hospitality was highly prized in the ancient world, and for early Christians, to be hospitable in a way that advanced the Jesus movement was both an art and an honor. in this way, for Mark, the healing in this story is not only a matter of a fever departing; it’s also a matter of restoration to community, and of participation in the movement. This social dimension of healing is a key theme to which Mark will return again and again.

7) In need of some restoration himself, Jesus retreats to the wilderness to pray — recalling his preparatory 40 days in the wilderness after his baptism just a few verses earlier (Mark 1:12-13). Taken together, these passages point to the renewing powers of wilderness; the ancient cycle of work and rest, engagement and retreat, action and contemplation; and the need for those laboring to restore the world to seek out regular, intentional practices of restoration themselves.

8) This passage in Isaiah is one of the Bible’s exceptional hymns to God’s greatness as witnessed through the glorious wonders of creation. The prophet’s point is that this greatness should give us comfort and faith in God’s care for us, regardless of the apparent difficulties we may face. Have you not heard?  God is the incomparable Creator of all things, from the supernova to the firefly’s wing, the rings of Saturn to the spots on the leopard. Is God then unable to care for you? Look to the heavens: the stars in the sky are not other gods (as some contemporaries then thought), but rather marvels God created simply by calling their names. Have you not heard the psalmist sing? “God heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. God determines the number of the stars; God gives to all of them their names” (Ps 147:3-5).

9) This creation-through-speech evokes Genesis 1 — and it resonates with Mark 1, too, as Jesus drives out the unclean spirit merely by speaking, and heals Peter’s mother-in-law through gracious, life-giving touch. Have you not heard? You may be laid low but have courage! God will take your hand and lift you up (Mark); God will renew your strength, and you’ll mount up with wings like eagles (Isaiah)!

Takeaways:

1) For Mark, this first day of ministry is a microcosm of Jesus’ mission as a whole: the Holy One of God comes to confront death-dealing forces for the sake of life-giving restoration. Jesus will be resurrected later in the story, but his life’s mission is all about resurrection (literally “standing again”) in the here and now. He comes near in order to lift us up into service, to reawaken us into dignity, community, and genuine health.

2) And please note, Jesus doesn’t so much say this with words as demonstrate it with action. He offers and enacts a “freedom from” bondage and ruin, and at the same time a “freedom for” service, ministry, and kicking up a little dust. And since this first day of his ministry is on a Sabbath day, Jesus thereby embodies the true meaning of Sabbath: a day for restoration, for health, for resurrection, for joy, and in that sense for anticipating the Great Sabbath to come. Throughout his ministry, Jesus proclaims the Sabbath of Sabbaths, the Jubilee of Jubilees, the dawn of a new era: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near” (Mark 1:15).

3) Some listeners may well wonder whether or not we are required to believe miracle stories like this one — and this kind of doubt puts us in good company! As the Swiss theologian Karl Barth has pointed out, miracle stories are designed to astonish — and astonishment, after all, is a blend of belief and disbelief. Accordingly, Barth contends that Christian readers should neither merely “believe” miracle stories (for that would mean we aren’t truly astonished by them) nor merely “disbelieve” them (ditto); rather, these stories should leave us continually “taken aback.” Thus, we may truly take our place among the “amazed” crowds, and turn our attention to the deeper dimensions of what Jesus’ mission means for us today. What death-dealing forces should we tangibly and practically confront? What life-giving service should we tangibly and practically undertake? What dust, good deacons, do we need to kick up around here?

4) As we seek to answer these questions, Mark and Isaiah give us guidance. Following Jesus means having the courage to confront forces of ruin; it means finding ways to tenderly bind up wounds; it means not only proclaiming resurrection but living out lives of resurrection, for ourselves and for others; and it means doing all of this with our deeds as much as with our words. Jesus comes as a healer and liberator, calls us to join him — and promises to accompany us along the way, caring for us as we confront, come near, take hold, lift up, and serve. A great challenge, it’s true, the greatest of our lives — but God’s love, companionship, and support are more than enough. Have you not heard?

Growing in Wisdom and Stature

     Just before Luke’s Gospel launches into Jesus’ adult, public ministry, the author gives us a summary statement  of Jesus’ first 30’ish years of life that preceded: Jesus grew in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and all the people (Luke 2:52 NLT). We know very little about Jesus’ life before his final 1-3 years. Yet Luke’s declaration speaks volumes.

     Before we go any further, let me offer you my sincerest congratulations!  Way to go!  You made it to today!  Somehow you (with the help of others along the way) made it out of your mother’s womb, figured out how to express your needs the only way you knew how (crying at the top of your lungs), learned to walk, talk, eat, bathe, dress, and generally take care of yourself.  Considering this achievement, you are incredible!  Not only did you grow physically, but you also matured!  Only one or two of you still cry at the top of your lungs when you want something (you know who you are). Most of you have learned to exercise control in many sectors of life to protect yourself and to increase the odds of beating the actuary tables. Well done!

     Not to ruin such a celebratory tone, but I feel that I need to let you know that as special as you are and as good as you can feel about such an incredible feat, pretty much every human being on the planet has done the same to varying degrees. Everyone is special.  What Luke wanted to convey to us is that something a bit more unique happened in Jesus’ life.  He grew in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and all the people.  To achieve that includes all the normal wisdom-gaining experienced by everyone yet requires more.  It requires intentionality. One generally does not grow in stature or in favor with God and all people without concerted effort.  We can trust that Jesus learned and practiced what Paul later instructed the conflicted church in ancient Rome: Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect (Romans 12:2 NLT ). The Way of Jesus (which is bigger than Jesus) is different than the ways of the world. It requires openness and learning that lasts our lifetimes.

     Most churches around the world this week are reading Mark’s Gospel account of Jesus’ earliest days of ministry just after he invited followers to join him on his campaign to usher in the Kingdom of God:

     Jesus and his companions went to the town of Capernaum. When the Sabbath day came, he went into the synagogue and began to teach. The people were amazed at his teaching, for he taught with real authority—quite unlike the teachers of religious law.

     Suddenly, a man in the synagogue who was possessed by an evil spirit cried out, “Why are you interfering with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are—the Holy One of God!”

     But Jesus reprimanded him. “Be quiet! Come out of the man,” he ordered. At that, the evil spirit screamed, threw the man into a convulsion, and then came out of him.

     Amazement gripped the audience, and they began to discuss what had happened. “What sort of new teaching is this?” they asked excitedly. “It has such authority! Even evil spirits obey his orders!” The news about Jesus spread quickly throughout the entire region of Galilee. – Mark 1:21-28 (NLT)

     In our modern Western world, we may get tripped up with references to demon possession, evil spirits, and other concerns that are deeply tied to the original cultural context.  Set your need for literalness aside to hear what Mark is trying to say: Jesus was on the ground helping save people from that which was robbing them of life.  His authority was recognized even by the very forces behind the robberies. While we may not hold such archaic views, we are all certainly aware of things that possess us.  We all struggle with something or another. For some it’s a substance like alcohol, drugs, sex, food, porn, etc.  For others it’s trauma from childhood or adulthood. Or being enculturated in a society-wide system that is destructive toward some more than others.  Jesus’ Way was liberating then, and still is today.  The words and Way of Jesus still stand on their own, and when followed lead us to deeper and deeper maturity, greater stature, and wider favor with God and all people.

     The question before us as we consider Jesus in his context, and Francis, Clare, and Bonaventure in theirs, is how do we frame this inherently inviting Way for ourselves?  Bernard Loomer, who was a mentor for Bruce Epperly (who wrote the book central to this series) noted the following:

     If a religious institution or belief system is small—that is, cramped intellectually and relationally—it should be discarded as irrelevant and injurious to individuals and communities...  By size I mean the stature of a person’s soul, the range and depth of his love, his capacity for relationships. I mean the volume of life you can take into your being and still maintain your integrity and individuality, the intensity and variety of outlook you can entertain in the unity of your being without feeling defensive or insecure. I mean the strength of your spirit to encourage others to become freer in the development of their diversity and uniqueness (59).

Epperly weighs in on the definition of maturity-born stature as well:    

     Stature is not relativism, but empathetic relatedness. When we make judgments related to others’ behaviors and beliefs, or institutional and political choices, we are guided by love as well as critique. We recognize our moral and spiritual limitations as well as the moral and spiritual limitations of those whom we challenge. We realize that challenging injustice is necessary to liberate both oppressor and oppressed (73).

To foster such growth, Epperly gains insight from the central characters of his writing:

     For Francis and Clare, spiritual poverty involved the interplay of simplicity and fruitfulness to let in God’s light and reflect that light to others. We need to prune everything that prevents us from experiencing God’s presence in our lives. We need to quiet the voice of conflict, lure of consumerism, attraction of recognition and fame, and lust for power and possession to hear the voice of God. We need to be sure that our lives touch the earth lightly, that we care for the planet and work to ensure that everyone has sufficient food and housing. We need to eliminate the detritus that sullies the doors of perception, trapping us in shadows rather than freeing us for God’s sunlight (64-65).

     To conclude his fourth chapter on Growing in Wisdom and Stature, Epperly invites us to embrace the following prayer: God, whose energy brought forth the Universe in all its wonder and glory, whose wisdom guided the evolutionary process, whose love embraced humankind and all creation in its beauty and waywardness, bless my journey. Help me to walk the path of Jesus, growing in wisdom and stature each day, expanding my circle of compassion, and trusting you in all the seasons of life. Amen (76).

     From my experience and study of adult transformation (which was half of my doctoral thesis), I can tell you that transforming moments happen to everyday people.  Not minor events that cause us to make minor changes like toothpaste brands or the like, but significant events that stop us in our tracks and cause us to desire or make drastic changes in our lives. Sometimes the transforming moment is more or less positive – “thin place” experiences of divine insight akin to the Japanese satori moments – but are more likely negatively experienced times when it feels like our life is threatened literally or metaphorically.  Tragedies of death, terminal illness, divorce, the devastation caused by addiction, traumatic accidents, severe consequences of attitudes or behaviors, etc. These are generally not welcomed in the moment of their arrival yet can become milestones marking genuine transformation in our lives, so much so that we eventually become grateful for the storm.  In truth, we don’t have to be grateful for the storm as much as our decision to capitalize on it, because storms in and of themselves do not always result in transformation. People must be very intentional for that to happen.

     Transformation requires seeing ourselves clearly. Sometimes tools offered from the Enneagram help, especially when clarifying varying levels of maturity looks like – we can use those descriptions to see how we are behaving in various sectors of our lives (if we are honest). I have found such mirrors very helpful in discovering where I need to do some work.  While I believe that simply changing my behavior alone can help create a better “mask” to grow into, I resonate more with the idea that fostering the development of my True Self – who I am when most fully living in The Way of Jesus, aligned and attuned with God – addresses the core issues that possess me. The Way Jesus lived, taught, and modeled still saves.

     As has been noted in Epperly’s earlier chapters, time spent in meditation and contemplation was critical for Jesus, Francis, Clare, Bonaventure, and every person who wants to be more fully aligned and attuned with God, for those who wish to grow in wisdom, stature, and favor with God and all people.  One incredible resource from the Franciscan tradition is a prayer attributed to Francis himself.  I invite you to read this prayer daily for a while, maybe using John Rutter’s choral expression to feel it more fully.  See what happens in your life when this prayer becomes your own:

The Prayer of St. Francis

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy. 

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive, 
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, 
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.

All quotes, unless otherwise noted, are from: Bruce Epperly, Simplicity, Spirituality, Service: The Timeless Wisdom of Francis, Clare, and Bonaventure. Franciscan Media. Kindle Edition.

Bonus Material!

 Practical Steps.  I know that I lean very heavily on a “change the inside and the outside will change automatically” approach to behavioral change. Some prefer a more practical approach.  For those that do, here is a prescription for you:

• Gather a variety of mirrors to help you see yourself more clearly. METAPHOR ALERT! I refer to tools like the Enneagram that help you see what maturity looks like for varying personality types.

• Ask courageous others for their input.

• Track your behavior and feelings.

• Journal about your experience, consulting with deep friends and therapists as needed.

• Repeat for the rest of your life.

Brian McLaren describes the radical trust and resilience that spiritual practices can offer in difficult times: 

     We must prepare ourselves to live good lives of defiant joy even amid chaos and suffering. This can be done. It has been done by billions of our ancestors and neighbors. Their legacy teaches us to see each intensifying episode of turbulence as a labor pain from which a new creative opportunity can be born. Life will be tough; the only question is whether we will become tougher, wiser, and more resilient.… The communities that learn and teach … spiritual resilience will become vital resources for everyone. (We can hope that some Christian communities will take part in this work.) These individual and communal practices will help us dump bitterness, fear, disappointment, and toxicity and refuel with mercy, vision, anticipation, and equanimity. They will help us ignore what deserves to be ignored and monitor what needs to be monitored. They will help us reframe our narratives, so we can mourn, grieve, and lament … even as we imagine, celebrate, and labor for the birth of a better future.…

     To trust in the process is another way of saying to trust in an intelligence wiser than current human intelligence, to trust in a love deeper than current expressions of human love, to trust in a desire stronger and wiser than current expressions of human desire. Christians refer to this wisdom, love, and desire as God or the Divine or the Creative Spirit, and others can find their own ways of naming it…. To use familiar biblical language, we will need to walk by faith through the valley of the shadow of death [Psalm 23:4], always holding anticipative space for something beautiful to be born, especially during the most painful contractions (Brian D. McLaren, Do I Stay Christian? A Guide for the Doubters, the Disappointed, and the Disillusioned (New York: St. Martin’s Essentials, 2022), 190, 191.).

10 Signs of Emotional Maturity

·       Being flexible.

·       Taking ownership and responsibility.

·       Knowing that they don’t know everything.

·       They look for learning and growth from every opportunity.

·       They actively seek out multiple points of view to help inform their own.

·       They stay resilient.

·       They have a clam disposition.

·       They believe in themselves.

·       Approachability.

·       A good sense of humor.

Commentary from the SALT Project

Epiphany 4 (Year B): Mark 1:21-28 and Deuteronomy 18:15-20

Big Picture:

     1) In quick succession, Mark tells the stories of Jesus’ baptism, the calling of the first disciples, and now a third epiphany story in which Jesus’ identity shows forth (as you know, “epiphany” means “showing forth”): a direct and dramatic confrontation with an “unclean spirit.”

     2) Mark’s world is full of shadows and menace, riddled with demonic forces who distort creation and overwhelm hearts and minds. Human beings are cast as porous creatures open to spiritual influences: Jesus himself is driven deep into the desert by the Holy Spirit, and in this story, a man is possessed by an unholy one. On first glance, this way of understanding the world can seem archaic and foreign — but it’s precisely this historical and cultural distance that can allow such stories to shed new light on our lives today (see below).

     3) The Book of Deuteronomy presents itself as Moses’ parting words to the Israelites before they enter the Promised Land. His overall message is that (a) God will continue to expect fidelity and righteousness, and (b) God will provide them with support along the way, including “a prophet” who will be their guide and liaison with God. This shepherd will be “like me” — that is, like Moses, the archetype of all subsequent prophets. And the new prophet will be a gift responding to the Israelites' request for a go-between (at Sinai they became afraid of direct interaction with God, “this great fire” (see Deut 5:25)). In later Jewish tradition, some interpreters began to hear Deuteronomy 18:18 as an eschatological proclamation, pointing ahead to a great prophet whose arrival will signal a new age. This idea was in circulation in first-century Palestine, and was likely in the background as the Gospel writers wrote their accounts: see, for example, John’s story of Jesus feeding the five thousand (echoing Moses and the manna), after which the people say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world” (John 6:14).

Scripture:

     1) In Mark's crackling account, not only do the first disciples recognize Jesus’ authority “immediately” — an “unclean spirit” does, too, confronting Jesus as a threat and naming him as “the Holy One of God.” This confrontation serves as the iconic launch of Jesus’ public ministry, and so Mark’s message is clear: Jesus comes into the world as a healing liberator in direct, authoritative opposition to the death-dealing forces of evil and ruin in the world.

     2) What strikes the crowd about Jesus’ teaching is that he does it “with authority,” speaking in his own voice rather than citing other authorities in the familiar style of the scribes. In Mark and elsewhere, Jesus often references both scripture and tradition — but not here at the very outset, a vivid signal of his distinctive prophetic standing and power. For Mark, when Jesus speaks, we hear God’s voice; and when Jesus acts, we see God's action in the world. 

     3) And sure enough, Jesus doesn’t simply talk about healing and liberation. He heals and liberates. In this sense, his teaching is indistinguishable from his mission, and from who he is. In fact, the word Mark uses here for “authority” is exousia, a close cousin of the word that eventually ends up in the Nicene Creed to indicate “substance” or “being” or “essence.” Jesus speaks and acts from his essence. What he says, what he does, and who he is are all one and the same: he is “the Holy One of God,” the one who has come to heal and liberate the world.

Takeaways:

     1) Since many people today don’t typically interpret the world in terms of demons and exorcisms, it can be tempting to apologize for this passage as obsolete and unconvincing. But this is a false start. After all, when we read the Bible, we engage ancient texts from halfway around the world — it's only to be expected that they’ll feel cross-cultural and unfamiliar at first. Think of this as a kind of travel through time and space. The opportunity here is to stay open to how another way of thinking and living can shed new light on our own.

     2) Any number of death-dealing forces today are often experienced as "possession" or being "caught up" in dynamics that far exceed our intentions or control. Think of how addiction overwhelms individuals and families; how racism and white supremacy shape-shift over time; how anger consumes; how envy devours; or how all of us, even against our will, are complicit in creating the blanket of pollution overheating the planet (2023 set the record for the hottest global year on record). We may or may not call addiction or racism or the sexual objectification of women “demons,” but they are most certainly demonic. They move through the world as though by a kind of cunning. They resist, sidestep, or co-opt our best attempts to overcome them. And as we make those attempts, the experience can be less like figuring out a puzzle and more like wrestling with a beast.

     3) And so, for Mark, Jesus comes into the world to wrestle with these shape-shifting beasts. The word “salvation” comes from the Latin salvus, which means “health” — and in Mark, Jesus’ idea of salvation isn’t to give us a ticket to a heavenly land in the sweet by-and-by, but rather to bring new health into our lives and communities today. For the sake of all people and the whole of creation, the death-dealing forces around us must be confronted and, ultimately, overcome. To follow Jesus is to join him in just this kind of confrontation, to speak and act with boldness and clarity, to heal and liberate with our words and at the same time with our deeds. As Mark tells it, when Jesus says to the disciples, “Follow me,” he means follow him into the fray, into the shadows, into the menace itself. He means follow him into the work of building up from the ruins, of freeing the captives, of salvation (health!) in that sweet by-and-by, sure, but also and especially “immediately,” right here and right now.

     4) That’s the challenge. And the good news of the Gospel this week? That however formidable such death-dealing forces may seem, with God’s help, they can be overcome. However deep our wounds may be, with God’s help, they can be healed. In short, that the renewed health of God’s salvation and sanctification isn’t just possible — it’s on the way!