Category Archives: Easter; Resurrection

March 30, 2013 · 12:54 pm

The Two Way Betrayal

It is Holy or Black Saturday and I’m deep in a place of emotional and spiritual pain.

Last night, at Tenebrae, as I was leading the service, I saw again the shock of the disciples. I saw their need to flee, their betrayal, and the aloneness of Jesus when he faced his accusers.  My tears began to flow.

That time of utter desolation for Jesus stands as final proof of undeserved love. But I bet Jesus’s closest followers did not see love. Instead they, too, felt totally betrayed by the one they had loved.

Why? Because there was no king, no kingdom, no toppling of power of the hated Roman oppressors, no reversal promised by Mary’s Magnificat, no James and John at Jesus on the right and left sides of the royal seat. There was death. Just death. Loss. Dreams gone. Confusion. Anger. Sadness. Emptiness.

Jesus was betrayed. Unquestionably. And Jesus also betrayed. Harsh words, but true, I believe. The betrayal went both ways.

This week, I had to make an extraordinarily painful decision that I’m more than sure left someone feeling totally betrayed. Possibly devastated. Certainly angry. Probably seeking revenge, for that is the normal, human response to such experience.

I’ve hardly slept. My prayer all week has been, “Please, isn’t there some other way?” I think that falls somewhere close to “let this cup pass from me.” Ultimately, I did what was right for the health of my church community. But it hurt, and that hurt will be long-lasting on all sides.

Jesus betrayed his disciples because it was necessary for the ultimate good for all of humanity. Being crowned the temporal “King of the Jews” as a political title might indeed have brought some momentary relief from oppression.  However, it wouldn’t have lasted long. In that political climate, he would have been assassinated quickly, another power would have risen in his place, and his name quickly forgotten.

So he took the high road, the lonely road, the road of abandonment. Not only was he abandoned, but he also abandoned himself, in the sense of giving all, for the ultimate end.

What was that end? “The veil in the Temple was torn in half.” That barrier, that curtain, that wall that kept everyone except a select few at a distance from the Mercy Seat and the very Holy Presence of God, was ripped open and access was given to all.

And that brings me to my morning musings. As have most churches, the church I serve has special worship planned for tomorrow. Glorious music, all-church brunch, Easter Egg hunt for the children, and the joyous celebration of Holy Communion as we break bread together and commemorate Jesus’s first meal with the disciples after the Resurrection.

As I was heading out to take care of some needed errands, my way was stopped by a group of horse-back riders and a covered wagon on one of the two main streets in town. I finally realized they were from one of the local cowboy churches, presumably inviting people to Easter worship by causing a fairly large traffic jam in our small town.

Passing by the middle school, I saw a fully packed parking lot. That’s because another church holds its massive Easter egg hunt  on this day.  I admit I have never been able to wrap my arms around an Easter, i.e., resurrection, egg hunt on a day of sorrow and darkness, but that is my story, not theirs. This particular events includes spectacular door prizes for anyone who comes–things like bikes and high-end electronics will be distributed. The crowds fill that space every year. Presumably the hope is that they’ll come to church the next day. The church I serve sent out a mailing, made sure the website is up to date, sent out multiple e-news reminders, entered the information on the Conference website just in case someone might go there looking for a service.

All of us doing all we can to get them in the door.

All this to invite them into a religious observance that, at its core, involves the nearly impossible act of forgiveness to those who have betrayed us. Something just about no one wants to do, and not one single person does easily.

Not exactly a popular message. Far better to couch Christianity in terms of “God wants you to have your best life now! God wants to fulfill your every need! God thinks everything you do is just hunky-dory!”

Who wants to hear, “You really want the riches of the realm of heaven? Then walk in the way, the life and the truth of Jesus, lay down your lives for your enemies, forgive the unforgivable, and, above all, say, ‘Thy will be done.’”

And the crowds will walk away, saying, “Too hard. Not interested. I’ll go find a different god who doesn’t ask so much.”

But this way, the way of Jesus, is the way that leads to life, and life abundant.  That’s resurrection.  That is Easter.  Each time we let the betrayals go, we have our own Easter morning.

Thanks be to God.

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March 27, 2013 · 6:40 pm

Easter Conversation with God from a Troubled Pastor

Me:  ”OK, God, can’t you see that I’m in the midst of doing all this for You?  Look at all the services we’ve planned!  See how creative they are!  We’re doing such a great job telling that Passion Week and Easter story. So, that being the case, how about you take all this other stuff away?  You know, as in, ‘Let this cup pass from me.’”

God, “I think you may be missing something.”

Above was the conversation taking place in my mind a few minutes ago.  With a worship service looming this evening, I heard about the father of one of my members being near death.  For many reasons, I knew I needed to get to the hospital.  Immediately. So, off I went.

After that important time there, I sat in my car for a few minutes, my mind filled with something perilously close to rebellious and grumbling thoughts.  The week, fully loaded anyway, again with all that creative and wonderful and carefully planned worship, had also landed me with a very, very difficult problem in the life of this church that cannot not be ignored.  And which has taken, and will continue to take, heaping amounts of time and energy to resolve. Now, this possible death will cause major derailment in the life of someone whom I love profoundly. And upon whose faithful service  I depend.

And then, there is my ongoing concern, in these days of being measured in effectiveness only by numbers: Will mine look good?  Will enough people show up for Easter Worship that the worship average will raise appreciatively for the year?  Will enough money land in the offering plates to deal with a year where we are already showing a deficit?

In other words, it’s all about me.

I began to think of those who do rarely attend worship and who might still have vestiges of a need to attend on Easter or Christmas.  Those numbers, in my experience, are growing fewer and fewer.  And I don’t blame them.  We pull out all the stops and create spectacular worship on those special occasions but . . . have we not just bought into the whole, “if we don’t entertain them, they won’t come back?” syndrome?  And if so, how consistent is it with who Jesus was and what Jesus did and taught? Haven’t we just presented the lie of an easy Christianity rather than the truth of a narrow and complicated path to perfection in love?

I wonder if we (I) are just putting on an act for the sake of something that is false at its core.

I wonder if I really am willing to say, “Please let this cup pass from me but . . . above all, Your will be done.”  What if it is God’s will for me to serve a church whose numbers don’t look good?  What if it is God’s will for me to take a hard hit for betrayal by someone I thought I could trust with my life?  What if it is God’s will for me to go out alone, a failure, despised and rejected, covered with stripes, weeping in abandoned pain?

I wonder if I am really willing to follow Jesus all the way to the cross, to go into the darkness of that death, to wait until the Spirit of God is able to bring about a resurrection.

This is what I signed on for when I followed the call into the ministry of the ordained. But oh, I do so want this cup to pass from me.  Yet . . . yet, not my will.  No, not my will here.  Thy will be done.

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March 26, 2013 · 4:34 pm

Peter’s Puzzle

The Puzzle of the Resurrection

The Puzzle of the Resurrection

While idling some time away playing computer solitaire and thinking about Easter, it dawned on me how much we humans like to grapple with puzzling things.

Early and often favorite childhood toys are jigsaw puzzles.  Big, heavy, easy-to-manipulate shaped puzzles fill toy boxes of many a toddler. I know few children who don’t like solving them over and over again.  It gives such satisfaction to fit the final piece and say, “It is finished.”

As we age, our puzzles grow in complexity.  We gravitate toward greater challenges, like the 5000 piece puzzle where all the colors look alike and may take days or weeks to finish. What a sense of accomplishment when we conquer!

In fact, most of our favorite things in life are essentially puzzles to solve.

Athletic contests, international diplomacy, quantum physics, gardening, NASCAR races, computer games:  all of them involve the art of out-maneuvering or finding the bigger picture of the opponent. In other words, we seek to discern the puzzle shape of other teams or individuals, different cultures, ever expanding scientific insights, weather and soil conditions, and the expertise of online gamers in a constantly changing jigsaw puzzle

The challenge makes life interesting. We are driven to solve them.  In fact, the idea of the jigsaw puzzle to be solved and resolved in greater complexity is a great metaphor for human existence.

Now, what’s the connection between the human delight in solving puzzles and Easter?

Well, apparently Peter, one of the in-group followers of Jesus, was puzzled when several women (oh, such unreliable witnesses!) told him that Jesus was alive, not dead, about 36 hours after his unquestioned death and burial.

Now Peter was known as an impetuous man, quite full of his own importance and power.  Much changed when he landed face-to-face with his weaknesses. For Peter, like the much more notorious Judas Iscariot, had betrayed his beloved teacher, Jesus, a few hours before the awfulness of the crucifixion.

There’s no suggestion that Peter even had the courage to show up and witness that horror.  So, he may be somewhat understandably cautious when hearing death had been defeated.

Naturally, he went to check out the story—and his response, again, was wondering, puzzlement, uncertainty.  That empty grave didn’t fit his life puzzle.

I believe all of us would have a similar response.  Bodies don’t simply disappear from graves, especially when the burial ground is a mountain-side rocky cave sealed with a giant stone and guarded by decidedly unsympathetic people.

This piece just didn’t fit

Frankly, it really doesn’t fit with our lives either.  The rules of our life puzzles come from a rational, “Prove it scientifically with a controlled, randomized, double-blind study” society, not one where something defies explanation .

For us, as it was for Peter and the other followers of Jesus, death is death.  When something dies, its dead.  Buried.  Decomposed. Gone forever.

So, what do we do when confronted with a puzzle piece that just doesn’t fit?  Do we toss it out?  Or force-fit it into an unfilled spot? Or say, “some games are just too hard for me” and walk completely away, defeated?

All of the options have problems.  All can leave us a bit dissatisfied and even uncomfortable.  We need closure and explanation.  Mysteries must be solved.

But Easter defies explanation.

Easter: the delight of hard, dead-looking trees limbs suddenly budding with life each spring.  We can explain it, but . . . still an astounding event.

Easter: the mystery of freedom after slavery, where whole new ways of seeing self and others have to be internalized.

Easter: the dawn arriving after an impenetrable and apparently unending darkness, sometimes so brightly that we have to cover our eyes.

Easter: renewed hope arriving with the invitation to leave hopelessness behind.

Easter: the mystery of the unexplainable bursting into a world we insist on explaining.

Easter: God wins.  Death loses.

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December 11, 2012 · 6:55 pm

Christmas Advice Column, Issue Two

sheep-starDear Friendly,

Was Jesus really born on December 25th?  All these songs about snow and cold and shepherds sleeping outside in the fields in icy winter don’t make sense to me.

Signed,
Not So Sure About This.

Dear Not So Sure,

I was just a child when I heard some radio preacher say that Jesus was probably not born on December 25.  I thought the floor had just been yanked from me.  How dare that person question what surely is clear!

Except it is not clear.

First, the Bible does not indicate the date on our calendar that we call December 25 is the actual birth date.  Did you know that our calendars have changed over time?  We in the West use the Gregorian calendar, established in 1582.  It replaced the Julian Calendar which had by then proved to be inaccurate by about 11 minutes per year—which does add up over the centuries!

Around the time of Jesus, a very different way of measuring times and dates was in place, and the world was also considerably less exact in its time measurements.  Things you and I might accomplish in split seconds or just a few hours could easily then have spanned days, weeks and months or even longer.  Those who lived in biblical times would be astonished at our contemporary time and date precision measurements.

Second, the day of Jesus’ birth was not celebrated at all in early Christianity. The major Christian feast from its earliest days was Easter, and then followed by Pentecost.  While you and I live in a world that makes Christmas the most important time to pay attention to faith issues, that’s a fairly recent development.

So, when the church did decide to incorporate this season into its calendar of feasts and fasts, it probably co-opted certain winter celebrations that were already part of popular culture.  In the northern hemisphere, the Winter Solstice, when the sun is at its lowest point and the daylight the shortest, is December 21.  Starting December 22, the days start to grow longer again until they reach their fullest length on June 21 and then begin to shorten once more.  Thank about it:  what better time for us to celebrate the Light coming into the world, that is, Jesus, than the very time when the light itself is coming back, offering its renewed hope of sun, crops, and the rebirth of land and animals?

I recently heard from a reader of my blog who lives in Australia.  Many of our holiday songs, with huge percentage centering on snow and snowmen, sleighs and frosty noses, cold winter’s nights and inky black midnight visitations sound crazy to them.  Why?  Because they are approaching their summer solstice, it is miserably hot “down under” and nights are short.  They don’t need candles and festive lights to push back the darkness.  They’ve got all the light they need right now, thank you.

But we do.  We need to bravely light our candles and hold them high, to recognize that frozen ground will eventually yield to plants and plowing yet once more, to embrace the mystery of the Incarnation, the divine taking on humanity, and the act of holiness joyfully embracing and transforming brokeness, sin and sorrow.

Many of the songs you notedn are written in the context of cold, northern European deep winter weather.  While not necessarily biblical in historical, climate matters, they are biblical in the sense of being in awe of what happened at the birth of the Savior.

Celebrating Christmas this time of the year reminds you and me of our physicalness, our connection with all of nature, and the rhythms of our bodies.  Just when we are at our lowest ebb, the light enters again and gives us hope.  So, December 25 for the celebration day just makes a lot of sense.

Have a great Christmas!

Signed,

Friendly

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December 8, 2012 · 10:21 am

More on the Confusion Between Santa and God

Santa with Cookies and MilkThis letter appeared in the “Dear Abby” advice column that was in the newspaper on December 8, 2012:

DEAR ABBY: Last night I received a call from my almost-5-year-old granddaughter asking me for Santa Claus’ phone number. It seems she is very angry at her daddy for calling her a brat because she wouldn’t give him a hug. She wants to tattle on her daddy to Santa.

Her parents are not together. Her daddy’s involvement has been only within the last year. She seemed very upset about the incident, and I want to make sure “Santa” gives her a good answer. I asked her to write a letter instead of phoning Santa to give me time for an answer. Did I do the right thing?

OK, readers, do you see the problem here?  Think about this five-year-old:  instead of being taught about a Holy and Loving God who cares fully for her and also calls her into Christ-likeness, she’s been taught that Santa has the power to punish and reward and whose job is to make sure she gets what she wants.

No where in the response does the advice columnist suggest that perhaps perpetuating the idea that Santa is God may not be in the best interest of the child.  Nope.  Let’s just placate the child’s anger and get on the dad’s case for expressing some frustration with this damaged child.

Sometimes I wonder what future cultural anthropologists, exploring the religious beliefs of 21st century Americans, will make of the Santa myths.  Their report will read something like this:

A book, written for children in the late 1880′s, became the guiding center for nearly all US families for about three to six months of each year.  The deity described in that book, an overweight man with a prodigious appetite for overly sweetened carbs and cow milk, appeared to have supernatural powers and supernatural knowledge. What we are having trouble understanding is why he was worshipped only during certain months of the year.  It could be that he changed shaped into an overly large bunny in the spring and perhaps hibernated in the summer.  It will take much further investigation to understand this religious belief.

So, I just keep asking:  why do we do this?

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April 25, 2012 · 9:23 am

Getting Free

It has been a strange week.  Still in brain fog most of the time from the anesthesia of surgery (more info here, here and here), coupled with some fairly strong pain relievers, I found myself more physically still than I can ever remember.

Time for the life of the mind with reflective thought delights me, but my best thinking seems to take place when my physical body is in action—walking, gardening, doing routine pedestrian but necessary tasks.  Most of those activities had to be set down during the days of healing.

It was time to learn once more just to be, not do.  In other words, to live as a human being, not a human doing.

The lingering effects of the meds made what I hoped to be extended writing hours nearly impossible.  It was not a time to create, be productive or do any of my normal things.  I could primarily sit and receive.

With the beautiful weather here, I spent many of those “being” and receiving hours on the front or back porch, reading, sitting, listening to the birds, picking aromatic roses and spending long minutes savoring their smells and textures.

And I read voluminously.  Books, newspapers, stories, both real and imagined, of people’s lives, loves and losses.

News of politics, economics and world events bounced in and out of my mind.  I became engrossed in a book called Camp 14 about a young man’s escape from a horrific prison camp in North Korea.  Untold thousands of people are imprisoned there right now, routinely beaten, starved and tortured, and occasionally put in forced marriages for the purpose of breeding children to be brought up as slaves to produce necessary food and goods for that totalitarian regime.  The young man portrayed in the book was one of those children.

Another engrossing book was one man’s story of growing up in a tight-knit, insular religious environment. They periodically split and re-form as one group decides that more rigid rules must be enforced to ensure community purity.  Eventually, after years of agony, separation, fear, suffocation and reconnection, the author left his community, finding elsewhere the joy and salvation he had been forever seeking

I read both of these in one day.  In both, an unexpected theme surfaced:  these men escaped because someone in their utterly different worlds offered them a glimpse of life that had possibilities of freedom, both physical and spiritual, they had never even dreamed of before. Light entered where there had only been darkness and despair before.

Both men walked treacherous paths to escape, and still walk complex paths to wholeness and healing.  Both embrace Christianity.  Both have stories of extremely limited educational opportunities, with strong authority figures that dictated the details of daily living.  I want to think that the tight-knit religious community made those decisions for the best of reasons, and the corrupt leadership in North Korea for the worst of reasons, but the outcomes were chillingly similar.

As I read, I knew again that I want to live as someone who has found truth, and has found truth that sets me free, not imprisons me.  I seek to base my life upon the goodness of God, a goodness that compels me to offer goodness to others.

I’m not naïve.  I know we live in a broken world where cruelty, wickedness and the wrong use of personal, political and military power seem to prevail.  I also saw in my “being” week so much goodness.  Meals, conversation, flowers, notes, cards and holy friendship filled my home.  Prayer sustained me.

The light of the kingdom of heaven can break in anywhere—no matter how dark the environment.  Light comes because you and I, ordinary people who chose to walk in the light, reach with love to those who long for it.  Let us not let the world down.  It really does depend on us.

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April 9, 2012 · 7:57 pm

The Dialogue: Rational Brain vs Primitive Brain

Dear Readers,

Thanks for all the prayers and offer of help as I go into this health journey. Below is a peek into the recesses of my brain. Keep in mind that the Rational Brain (RB) is fully aware of the grace and love of God. The Primitive Brain (PB) still awaits full redemption!

RB, “Isn’t modern medicine wonderful? I’m in the hands of caring, skilled medical personnel who will competently walk me through this.”

PB, “Run! Fast!”

RB, “It was silly to avoid this for so long. What was I thinking?”

PB, “They are going to take a knife to you. Run, FAST!”

RB, “I’ve already paid my deductible for this year, so maybe the co-pay won’t completely wipe out my savings.”

PB, “You’ve met your deductible ALREADY this year? Run, FASTER!”

RB, “They’ve promised to make sure I’ve got all the pain meds I need afterward. That’s wonderful!”

PB, “You idiot–they said that because you are going to hurt like **** afterward.

RB, “Now, I know that they’ll tell me not to make any major decisions while the anesthetic is still in my system. How wise of them to remind me of this!”

PB, “You idiot. While you’ve still got the anesthetic in your system, you won’t KNOW you still have the anesthetic in your system. You’ll probably gamble your children’s inheritance away (if there IS ANY LEFT after you pay the co-pay) thinking you know exactly what you are doing.

RB, “OK, prep time. List all the things I need finished before the surgery. Take care of the highest priorities first. All will be done in calm order.”

PB, “You idiot. There’s no way you’ll be ready. Hurry, quick, race around crazily. Clear that work pile off desk. Write months of articles in advance. Outline your sermons through December. Clean the house. Weed the garden. DO YOUR TAXES!”

RB, “Oh gosh, I haven’t done my taxes yet. No problem–I can easily get an extension form and will send in some extra money just in case.”

PB, “WHAT do you mean, ‘send in some extra money just in case?’ Do you have ANY IDEA what your co-pay is going to be? You don’t HAVE any extra. Just shred the tax stuff and forget about it.”

RB: Remember to let my sons know what is going on and to remind them that there is nothing to worry about. They’ve already shown much love and support with calls and emails and offers of help. What fine men they’ve grown up to be, responsible, hard-working, caring for their families and living as godly, responsible people.”

PB, “WHAT!!! You mean those three ungrateful sons of yours aren’t uprooting their lives and all flying to be at your bedside during this life-threatening procedure? So WHAT that one’s wife is expecting a baby any moment and the others are up to their ears in work projects and you are going to see them soon anyway–YOU ARE MORE IMPORTANT!!!!”

RB, “I’m calm, relaxed and nearly ready.”

PB, “You IDIOT. Have you checked your blood pressure? Do you have any clue that a bunch of strangers are going to strip you naked, knock you unconscious, and invade your private parts? RUN AWAY NOW!! FASTER!!!!!”

RB, “While there certainly is a possibility that I have cancer, I honestly don’t think so. Soon, I’m going to feel great, well-rested, full of energy and ready to enjoy life, family and ministry.”

PB “ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND? Best days gone for good baby! Feel really sorry for yourself and see if you can make everyone around you miserable as well. Not much time left anyway so don’t bother to care about anyone but yourself.

RB, Speechless

PB, “About time you hushed up. I’m in charge now.”

God Brain, “No, you are not. I AM!”

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March 27, 2012 · 5:12 pm

Palms, Power, and Plots

So just why did people put down palm leaves when Jesus headed into Jerusalem that last time to celebrate the Passover?  Quick answer:  because palm fronds were readily available.

Deep answer: the people were hoping that Jesus might be the Sent One who would deliver them from oppression.  His reputation had spread. He healed and fed, taught and touched.  He stood up to critics, responding to even the most skilled debaters with ease, intellect, and often devastating retorts to questions that were intended to trip him up. Reports of miracles raced from ear to ear in the growing crowds about him.

As he enters Jerusalem, many asked, “Could he do it?” Could he gather around him the necessary critical mass of people with enough energy to overthrow those in power, both Roman and religious?  Could this be the coming of the real King who will restore that struggling nation to freedom from outside rule?  The people, both powerful and powerless, hoped to find out soon. After the royal welcome, many followed him to the Temple where he was headed for worship.

There, hour after hour, day after day, Jesus began to dig his own grave–or building his own cross–with his words.  He tossed those kings of commerce, the money changers, out of the Temple. He openly insulted the religious power folks by comparing them to dishonest and murdering tenants who actively work against the real owner of the land. While dancing and weaving his way through the landmine questions being tossed him by the local press corps, he sobered the crowd by reminding them that it is love of God and love of neighbor that is to drive decisions and desires.  He refused to express proper respect and reverence to the learned scholars and found their ostentatious displays of wealth and generosity lacking in substance and sacrifice.

The religious authorities moved fast when they realized that Jesus was not going to be their fall-guy who would enhance their power, position and prestige by getting rid of the Romans.  Those religious leaders knew what side their bread was buttered on.

Secret meetings, smoke-filled rooms, dirty deals, dirtier money changing hands, front guys making sure they would emerge untainted by hints of scandal–today’s politicians use no trick that those first century power-brokers hadn’t already figured out.  Small boys probably served as their Twitter feeds as runners carrying messages.   Meetings at the city gate were effective and popular blog posts.  Pillow whispers kept the more secluded women as well-informed as a daily newspaper. Deals made, favors called, the denouement sketched out.

The newly plucked palm fronds withered as the plotting increased and the plan took shape.  Final agreement:  best to sacrifice this Jesus before more gather around him. Perhaps the next Big Hope will play the game better and say what the plotters and power holders want to hear.

The Roman authorities easily complied with the plan, with only some minimal reluctance on Pontius Pilate’s part.

And Jesus seals the deal on his own destruction by insisting on telling the truth.

Yes, better to sacrifice him.  The people will soon forget about this nothing carpenter from nowhere.  Maybe a few will hold onto his memories, but most will just follow the next new thing. Jesus’ body will quietly and obscurely rot away.

Yes, far, far better just to sacrifice him.  A month from now, only those closest to him will be grieving.  A year from now, his name will be mentioned only in passing.  A generation from now, he’ll be completely forgotten.

The time is now.  Darkness must fight the light, especially when that light reveals too much rot, too much neglect, too much indifference, too much of the selling of the soul for paltry returns.

Yes, let’s do it now.  History will thank us.

Now. Let us kill him while we can.

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March 6, 2012 · 4:20 pm

Anything But That!

The time leading to Easter has long been seen in many Christian traditions as the yearly opportunity to take a good, hard look at the state of our souls and ask the question, “Do I need a Savior?”

A great way to engage in that interior journey is to undergo a fast.  A fast, the intentional tossing aside of certain practices or gratifications, opens our eyes quickly to our habits of self-indulgence and mindless activities.

There is no one proscribed fast.  Some need to give up meals, or sweets or caffeine or alcohol. Others need to give up social networking or video games or TV or the reading of certain types of printed materials.  Attitudes and actions like habitual grumbling, criticism, prejudices, mean-spiritedness, laziness, destructive procrastination, over-spending, gossiping, greed, obsessive exercising and superficial religious activities are all fodder for the fast.

I’ve found over the years that the most important thing to give up is the very thing that, when suggested to us, brings the immediate response, “Oh no–anything but that.”

A few years ago, I was in conversation with a young woman who had chosen to live a highly ascetic lifestyle.  She had already given up meat, shampoo, cosmetics, buying new clothes, and dozens of other pleasures.  For Lent, she was planning greater rigor in her life, depleting herself of even more normal pleasures. I suggested to her that such a fast seemed a bit self-serving. She’d already proven to herself and those around her that she could live very simply. Her fast would simply reinforce what appeared to be an attitude of superiority toward those who were not as disciplined as she. Perhaps in her case, she actually needed to fast from fasting. Her response, “No, anything but that.”

When we’d prefer to give up “anything but that,” it means we’ve crossed over and started to worship the “that” in our lives. The old fashioned word is idolatry. Today, we might call it “addictive behavior” or “skewed priorities” but the meaning is the same. The behavior or habit has taken the place of God in our lives. We circle ourselves around that habit, and we do so to our detriment and to the detriment of those around us. We have hindered the presence of Holy Grace.

So, by picking the thing that is most painful to give up as the chosen fast, our eyes become beautifully aware of how deeply that habit is ingrained, how thoroughly we indulge ourselves (even when the indulgence is tight self-discipline!), and how blind we are to most of this.  Suddenly, instead of spending energy seeing the faults of others, our own faults bring us to a standstill.

Fasting is a part of almost every religious tradition. There is possibly no other discipline that will tell you so much about yourself.

For this short period of time, give it a try. One day at a time, one hour at a time, one minute at a time, see if you can set down the habit or practice or attitude that has you in its clutches. If possible, write down what you learn from this so it will stay with you longer.

I know that when I give up a meal, it teaches me deep sympathy for those who are hungry because they have no food.  If I am hungry, yet am surrounded by delicious temptations, I pray with greater passion for those whose stomachs are growling from hunger and whose options for relief are essentially non-existent.

Give it a try. Open your eyes. Get ready for Easter, for the hope of all humanity. Death will indeed be forever conquered.

One more thing: remember to set your clocks forward one hour on Saturday—preferably early that day.  Sunday is what I call “National Sleep Deprivation Day” as the government’s tampering with Mother Nature happens yet another year.  Yes, Day Light Savings time is upon us again!

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Filed under Easter; Resurrection, fasting, food, grace, Lent

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November 29, 2011 · 5:34 pm

God With Us? Are You Sure?

I am convinced that, despite what I am sure will be countless calls to “Put Christ back into Christmas!” and other such yearly holiday pleas, most people really have no desire for God to actually show up during this season.

We sing, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” With these words, we call for God to be with us.  The tune touches us, the words sound good.

But I wonder—yes I wonder. I wonder if we know what we are asking for when we sing these words.

Personally, I think we expect a heavenly butler to show up and do our bidding. After all, isn’t that what God is about?  To make sure we human beings are fulfilled, happy, rich and satisfied?

Surely God is Santa Claus squared–just waiting to deliver all those toys for big boys and girls as well as little ones!

But as I read the prophets, especially as they speak of the Day of the Lord, I see that the day when God does show up is more to be dreaded than celebrated. In the holy presence of God, real righteousness and justice show up. Our own pretendings as righteous and just people are exposed as sham coverings to hide ambition, selfishness and pettiness.

I am particularly struck this year by the words in Mary’s Magnificat–those worlds of praise she spoke after Elizabeth, her cousin, confirmed that she was indeed carrying in her womb the Holy One.

They are not comforting words for those who have much material comfort themselves.

Mary’s song says that God, in remembering her lowly status, “ . . . has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree. He has filled the hungry with good things; and the rich He has sent empty away.”

Could it be the reason that most Americans prefer Christmas to the far more important celebrations of Easter and Pentecost is that at Christmas, we get to see the Holy One as helpless baby?

That means we get to tell God what to do, as we put the diapers on Jesus’ little behind.

But at Easter, when facing the resurrected Christ, and at Pentecost, when acknowledging that God does indeed expect transformed lives, we tend to get a bit skittish.  We have to stop worshiping ourselves.

Christianity could dispense with Christmas altogether (the Gospels of Mark and John have no stories of the birth of Jesus and nor is it mentioned elsewhere in the New Testament) and probably experience a far more robust form of faith.

Some faith groups have actually forbidden the celebration of Christmas. In addition, church historians know that part of the reason for the December date is to incorporate early celebrations of the winter solstice. It is unlikely that this birth took place in December.

Even so, I think the celebration of the Incarnation has biblical legitimacy. In addition, fun, lights, decorations, gifts, parties and make-believe help fill out the human soul and can be delightful pointers to the Holy One.

Yet I grieve to see Santa Claus turned into an object of worship and reverence, one who knows all and can be everywhere and is the giver of all good gifts. Omniscience and omnipresence are characteristic of God and God alone.

God, and God alone, holy, just, full of mercy, deserves to be worshiped. But that’s scary, so we choose the mediated Santa, prefer to see the Divine as helpless baby, and ignore words spoken to Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

Remember this question: “Does the world need a Savior?”

 

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Filed under Advent, Christmas, Easter; Resurrection, worship