Downton Abbey Morality: Truth and Deception

Posted on May 14, 2012 by

One lesson I learned at an early age is when mom asked a question, she typically already knew the answer.  “What grade did you make on your math test yesterday?” was a familiar question in my high school years.  I knew that mom wasn’t searching for information; rather she was giving me an opportunity to tell the truth.  During my sophomore year of High School math started getting difficult.  I had done well with English class essays because I could talk my way into a suitable answer, but with the advent of Algebra II, it was becoming difficult to dance around the equation and come up with the right answer.  In Algebra II I had to start memorizing equations, and this was tough.  In years prior I had enough time during the test to look at a problem and figure out the right formula, but in my Algebra II class there wasn’t time to figure it out.  Applying the formula took most of the time, so you had to memorize which formula to use in a particular situation.  This wasn’t good for me.

One night while studying for a test I quickly realized that I could not cram for this one.  There was little hope to memorize the formulas at the last minute, so I made the decision to write the formula on a tiny piece of paper and slip it into my shoe.  I entered the test and after the teacher passed the exam out and turned to return to his desk, I took the piece of paper out of my shoe and wrote the formula on my desk.  I went through the test and I was overjoyed because the formula I couldn’t remember wasn’t on the test.  Unfortunately, because the formula wasn’t on the test, I forgot that I had written it on the desk.  During the next class period my math teacher came in to get me.  He met me in the hallway and asked me, “Did you cheat on the test.”  One of the most precious gifts my mother had given me was the gift of guilt.  As my mother says, “It is the gift that keeps on giving.”  I took a deep breath and said, “Yes.”  The teacher gave me a choice.  He said that I could either take a zero on the test or I could call my mother.  I pondered for a moment.  I seriously considered taking a zero on the exam, but ultimately this wouldn’t work because it would destroy my grade, and mom would find out anyway.  I said, “I would like to call my mother.”  He said, “That was a wise decision Mr. Rawle, because she is already on her way.”

It was a long and sober walk to the principal’s office as I awaited my mother’s arrival.  I saw her walking to the front of the school with an expression of anger and tearful disappointment.  The principal did not get involved because he knew that my mother would “take care” of the situation.  My mother looked deep into my eyes and said, “I am extremely disappointed in you.  I did not raise you to be a cheater.  If you tried your best and you did not do well, we can live with that, but I refuse to get a call from your teacher telling me that you cheated.” I never cheated on anything every again because I knew that my mother was being honest.  I knew that she meant what she said about supporting me if I failed at something if I did my best, so I never again wanted to betray that trust.

Truth telling seems so simple, but the world of Downton Abbey provides us with the honesty of truth telling’s complexity.  Daisy, the kitchen maid is caught in a tense situation.  William, one of the footmen, has expressed his love for her, but she does not love him.  The situation is simple enough except that William is about to go to war, and the other servants in the home suggest that Daisy should give him a little hope before he leaves because it is the honorable thing to do.  If he leaves with a broken heart he will certainly fall in battle.  So just before William leaves Daisy offers him a kiss of hope.  Is this the right thing to do?  It’s not honest of Daisy to lead him on . . . is it?  Is it a selfless act to deny her feelings for William’s sake?  Does that then make it right?  Not to give away spoilers, but the situation becomes more trying when William comes back from the war when a proposal is offered.

Several theologians through the centuries have weighed in on the complexity of truth telling.  Saint Augustine wrote that the truth is the truth and a lie is a lie.  Christians are never to lie.  The truth may be hurtful, but the truth must be proclaimed.  It sounds easy enough, but is it that simple?  What does happen to a tooth left under a pillow?  I see that we have a new baby brother, but I missed when the stork brought him.

Thomas Aquinas, a thirteen century theologian wanted to provide a little more wiggle room, so to speak, on Augustine’s definition of truth telling.  Aquinas said that the moral value of speech depended upon the outcome.  In other words, a little white lie is ok if it leads to a positive outcome.  For example you ask your mom to go with you to the store, but instead of going to the store you drive her to where the surprise mother’s day party is being held.  Telling the truth about where you were going would have ruined the surprise.  I have not yet experienced someone who was surprised with a party in their honor quote 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 that liars will not inherit the Kingdom of God.  Aquinas gives us a little wiggle room in truth telling.

Dietrich Bonheoffer took the definition a little further in saying that fundamentally truth telling was about building relationship for the good rather than the conveyance of fact.  Bonheoffer wrote in Germany during the second world war, and I’m paraphrasing, but he said that if he was hiding Jews in his basement and a Nazi soldier knocked on the door and asked if he was hiding Jews in the basement, he would say, “No.”  It’s certainly lying, but is it wrong?  I really like this understanding of truth telling, but this applies to extreme circumstances.  It probably doesn’t apply to 95% of our daily ethical dilemmas, and if I’m being honest, I probably apply this to more instances than I should.

There’s also the thought that truth telling depends on the integrity of the speaker rather than the actual words being spoken.  For example, “We are all one,” sounds like truth when Jesus says it.  It sounds much less truthful if Hitler said it.  What about the instances when we think we are telling the truth, but in fact we are not.  There was a time when we thought the earth was flat.  There was a time when Pluto was a planet.

I say all of this because truth telling is quite complex, yet it can be simple.  Jesus said, “You have heard that it was said to people long ago, ‘Do not break your oath, but keep the oaths you have made to the Lord.’  But I tell you, do not swear at all: either by heaven or the earth or by Jerusalem nor by your head.  Simply let your ‘yes’ be ‘yes’ and your ‘no’ be ‘no’.”  Not unlike today, during Jesus’ time your word was a legal contract.  In order to seal a contract you would swear on something.  Kind of like putting something up for collateral.  I swear on my house that I am telling the truth.  In other words, if you are being deceitful you would surrender your home.  In these situations you would create rules of how to transfer property in the case you break your promise.  You would put together a big book of discipline to outline how to handle the issue if rules are broken.  Jesus is saying that we should not swear at all, meaning that there is no need to create laws to figure out what to do when a promise is broken because as Christians, you won’t break your promise.  Let your “yes,” be “yes,” and your “no,” be “no.”

At Broadmoor we have the blessing of helping individuals with their utility bills.  When someone comes to us with the inability to pay a utility bill, a staff member can call the utility company and tell them, “We will be paying toward Mrs. Jones bill,” and that word is enough to keep the lights on.  What a cool place to be where the church’s word is good enough, that the church’s “yes” is a “yes.”  Jesus makes things simple, but they aren’t easy.

Truth telling takes a great deal of work.  In most circumstances we do not have the luxury of weighing the ethical implications of our words.  It takes practice.  Our truth telling depends on the way we are shaped and formed by the church.  We are to practice truth telling always and often, so that when we find ourselves in a difficult situation, our “yes” can be “yes.”

Truth telling should be a habit.  Good habits are hard to cultivate, but they make life much more simple.  Good habits are liberating.  God knew what he was doing by making us habitual creatures.  I would imagine you don’t take much time thinking about which shoe to put on first in the morning.  Should I stop at this red light nor not?  Am I going to give an offering today?  Am I going to love my children today?  Maybe that’s part of the mystery of “the truth shall set you free.”  Read scripture every day.  Pray every day.  Think about God every day.  It is the definition of freedom.  When we are shaped and formed by Christian habits, temptation begins to lose it’s grip upon our hearts.  You see, if I had only studied each day, I would never had been tempted to write that equation on my desk, and my mother wouldn’t have had to ask so many questions.  The truth shall set us free, and the truth is that God is love, a love which, like a mother, would rather die then to see us orphaned, a love that would turn the world upside down so that we might find life and have it abundantly.  Speak the truth of the love of God.  The truth will set us free.  Amen.

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Pastoral Prayer, Mother’s Day Easter 6 B

Posted on May 13, 2012 by

Mothering God, who gave birth to all that is seen and unseen, create in us a new and right heart this day.  Today we give thanks for our mothers and those who have served as a mother in our life.  Like a hen who protects her chicks, O God, surround those for whom today is a difficult day with your presence of peace and comfort.

Let us walk with Deborah, who judged the Israelites with authority and strength.  Let us walk with Ester, who used her position as queen to ensure the welfare of her people.  Let us walk with Mary, the mother of our Lord who heard his first cry in the manger and wept at his last at the foot of the cross.  Let us walk with Mary Magdalene, who wept at the tomb until the risen Christ appeared.  Let us walk with Pheobe, who led an early church in the empire of Rome.  Let us walk in the company of those whose names have been lost or silenced.

Faithful God, make our hearts bold with love for one another.  Pour out your Spirit upon all people, that we may live your justice and sing in praise the new song of your marvelous victory over death.

O God, you have prepared for those who love you such good things which surpasses our understanding: Pour into our hearts such love towards you, that we, loving you in all things and above all things, may inherit your promises, which exceed all that we can desire.  We pray this in the name of Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever as we pray with the confidence of children of God saying:

Our Father, who art in heaven

Hallowed be thy name

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done

On earth as it is in heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our trespasses

As we forgive those who trespass against us

Lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever.  Amen.

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Downton Abbey Life: Setting the Table

Posted on May 7, 2012 by

Downton Abbey is the story of an aristocratic Edwardian era, English family trying to navigate the tension of a changing world.  On the one hand you have the stable English social system: Lords, Dukes, Earls and footmen, valets, and butlers.  On the other hand you have a quickly changing world in which the assumptions of the past are weighed, measured, and found wanting at the feet at a new, industrious world at war.

The English Social system makes things easy.  Everyone knows his or her place.  In Downton Abbey, the head of the estate is Robert Crawley, the Earl of Grantham, his American Wife Cora, the Countess of Grantham, and their three daughters: Lady Mary, Lady Edith, and Lady Sybil.  Even though she no longer has any legal say in the family, they all live under the shadow of Robert Crawley’s mother, Violet Crawley, the Dowager Countess of Grantham.  Each person in the family has a particular role.  Lord Crawley is in charge of running the estate from managing legal matters to the produce from the farm.  Lady Cora is in charge of connecting Downton to the outside world through hosting dinners and fundraisers and entertaining weekend dignitaries.  The daughters’ role is very simple.  They are to marry and marry well.  The family enjoys a life of priviledge: They live in a mansion, five course dinners, exquisite clothing.  Their job is to maintain their status, and it’s threatened through several tragedies, but more on that in a few weeks.

The servants’ role is where things, I think, get really interesting.  Like the hierarchy of the upstairs aristocracy, the downstairs has order of its own.  Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, the butler and the head housekeeper respectively, are in charge of making sure the house is running in proper order from the post being delivered to dinner being served promptly on time to making sure that the kitchen maids are never seen.  From there in descending status you have maids and valets who tend to the family directly, housemaids and footmen who tidy the house and serve dinner, to the kitchen staff.  Only the maids and valets are allowed upstairs.  Only the footmen can answer the door.  Only the housemaids are allowed into family bedrooms.  The kitchen staff is only to be in the kitchen.  Daisy, the kitchen maid, is the bottom rung of the ladder.  She begins her day at 4:30 in the morning, getting the kitchen fires going, lighting lamps throughout the house.  At 6:00 she wakes up the other servants in the house.  At 10:00 she’s cleaning breakfast plates while at the same time cooking lunch.  At 2:00 she cleans the lunch plates while preparing for high tea.  At 7:00, now beginning the busiest part of the day, she is organizing the dinner preparations.  By 10:00 pm the dinner china has now been cleaned and she gets some free time.  With only one half day off a week, the schedule is brutal.

I imagine that this kind of schedule was going through the disciples’ minds as they kept hearing Jesus say, “The last shall be first, and the greatest is the servant of all.”  On one such occasion James and John approach Jesus and they say, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask,” and as a servant Jesus answers, “What do you want me to do for you?”  They ask, “Allow one of us to sit on your right and the other on your left when you enter your glory.”  In other words, with all of this talk of servant hood, they wanted to make sure that they secured their status to sit near the head of the table.  It’s like when the family sits down for dinner.  Lord Grantham sits in the center of the table with his wife sitting opposite him.  Just to his right is his mother, and then according to your rank, they sit clockwise around the table.  Lord Grantham is served first, then his mother, then so on and so forth. The disciples are saying that when Jesus is Lord and sits at his banquet table, James and John want to be served first.  Jesus replies, “You do not know what you are asking.”

After hearing of their request the other disciples become angry. Jesus calls them all aside and says, “You know that the ones who are considered the rulers by the Gentiles show off their authority over them and their high-ranking officials order them around.  But that’s not the way it will be with you.  Whoever wants to be great among you will be your servant.  Whoever wants to be first among you will be the slave of all.  The Son of Man didn’t come to be served but rather to serve and to give his life for all.”  Jesus is renarrating what it means to be great, what it means to have value.  In other words, Jesus looks at the world and says that the goal is not to climb to the top, to live in the upstairs, but it is to be in the downstairs, to be the servant of all.

How often we need to be reminded of this.  This is one of the things I wish Jesus hadn’t said. I wish he had said that as Christians we should strive after wealth and power and influence, but Christ calls us to be servants, to live in love for the other.  At the beginning of season two of Downton Abbey, England finds itself in the middle of World War I.  Aristocrats and peasants alike are thrust into war.  During the war, Downton become a place of convalescence, a hospital for the wounded, so to speak.  Lady Sybil, Lord Grantham’s youngest daughter, volunteers as a nurse.  I’ve been warned about giving away spoilers, but serving the wounded, caring for broken people, expressing a servant’s posture begins to change the way she sees the world.  No longer is her world about wealth or status or unspoken societal rules.  Her eyes are filled with compassion and she begins to see people not as subjects, but people of value, people worthy of love and care.

The last shall be first.  It’s a bit of a paradox, isn’t it?  It’s not that the powerful and the wealthy will lose their status and the marginalized will gain wealth and power.  That’s not the Gospel.  That’s bipartisan politics.  The last shall be first means that the rules are changing.  It’s not that the powerless will be powerful and vice versa, it’s that wealth, power, and status are no longer the goal.  It will no longer be the measure of success.

What does a successful church look like?  It’s one of the central questions the church is asking itself.  General Conference, the global body of the United Methodist Church, just finished their quadrennial meeting a few days ago.  Annual Conference, the annual local gathering in Louisiana is coming up in just a few weeks.  One of the questions we are asking is what makes for a successful church.  Lots of members?  Lots of baptisms?  Big budgets and facilities?  Jesus says the greatest among you will be the servant of all.  What does that mean for the church?

What makes for a successful church?  How many are receiving the grace of Christ and how many are sharing it?  I’m not talking about membership numbers, even though it is the membership which directs the ship.  I’m not counting the money in the offering plate, even though it is the gifts of the community which help actualize God’s will.  I’m not counting the number of programs, even though the habits of the church give the spirit an opportunity to shape, mould, and perfect us.  Is the church serving?  Is the church serving the grace of Christ?  Is the church offering the Gospel of forgiveness and hope?  Is the church waking up at 4:30 in the morning getting the fires ready, waking up the other servants?  Is the church upstairs waiting to be served?

That’s the beautiful mystery of Jesus’ words: God is calling all to greatness.  You see, everyone can be great because everyone can serve.

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The Sixth Sense

Posted on April 15, 2012 by

The Gospel of John is the most sensual of all Gospels.  It requires us to use all of our faculties to discern its meaning.  Throughout most of the gospel we have to use our eyes.  Jesus is the light of the world.  In him was life and the life was light, and the light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.  I am the light of the world, Jesus says.  In addition to sight we have to open our mouths and taste the goodness of God.  I am the bread of life.  Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.  Truly I tell you, unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life in you.  We have to breathe in and smell the fragrance of Christ, which Ken beautifully offered on Palm Sunday.  Mary anoints Jesus’ feet and we meditate on how the costly perfumed lingered through his trial, flogging, and crucifixion.  We have to open our ears to hear the Good Shepherd who knows our name and calls out to us.  We must touch Christ as the beloved disciple, reclining next the Lord, intimately, during his last meal.  God blesses us with five senses, one for each loaf which feeds the multitudes.

Yet in the abundance of God, God reveals the divine nature in seven signs throughout the Gospel: the wedding at Cana, the healing of the officials son, healing of the paralyzed man, multiplication of the loaves and fish, healing of the blind man, raising of Lazarus, the crucifixion and the resurrection.  With seven signs, the number of perfection, our five senses can’t keep up.  We have five senses and God reveals seven signs.  There’s a gap there, and our “Doubting Thomas,” completes the picture. Any grade school child can tell you, the only way to get from five to seven is six.  God has blessed us with a sixth sense, the gift of faith.  Everything our eyes see, everything our ears hear, our hands touch, and so on, requires faith, the application of meaning.  Our faith bridges the gap between what our faculties receive and what God reveals.

Several weeks ago I had the blessing of speaking at a Centenary College forum discussing the relationship between happiness and faith.  Very quickly our discussion on happiness became a discussion of the value of religion.  There was the basic assumption that religious people live according to a system of belief and atheists do not.  This is simply not true.  A better discussion is in what or in whom do we believe, not whether or not we live according to a belief system.  You would not brush your teeth in the morning unless you believed it prevented cavities.  When you put your foot on the accelerator you trust that it will propel your car.  Whether you read a blog post or a textbook about what’s going on in the world you trust that what you are reading is true.  So I felt like I was in a room of “Thomases,” so to speak saying, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I would imagine you’ve heard your fair share of Thomas sermons.  After all, it comes up in the lectionary every year on this, National Associate Pastor’s Day (the acronym of which is NAP Sunday).  So, those of us leading from the second or third chairs have had time to walk with this text.  There are two basic sermons I’ve heard on this text.  The first goes something like this: “Poor Thomas who doubted.  We are not to be like Thomas.  We are to have faith.  Jesus denounces Thomas and blesses us because he says, ‘Blessed are those who have not seen yet believe.’”  The other sermon is quite the opposite.  “Poor Thomas, he gets a bad rap.  We remember his doubt but not his faith.  Thomas is the only disciple to proclaim, ‘My Lord and my God,’ a proclamation the other disciples couldn’t muster.  All of the disciples doubted, in a way.  They were hiding behind closed doors out of fear, and if there’s anything the resurrection proclaims is ‘Do not be afraid,’ as the angel says at the tomb.  Our story does not end in death.  Christ has defeated death.  There is nothing which can separate us from the love of God; therefore there is nothing to fear.”

I have a place in my heart for the faithful, those who look at the world and whatever may come they find a way to rejoice as the Apostle Paul urges in Philippians.  I also have a place in my heart for the realist who echoes the Psalmist saying, “My tears have been my food day and night,” and “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  So, on the one hand we preach that we are not to be like doubting Thomas.  On the other hand we preach that we are to follow Thomas’ lead proclaiming, “My Lord and my God!”  In their extremes both of those sermons miss something because it is not the Word of God so that we might see the correct Thomas.  It is the Word of God because it reveals Christ.

In this story we see three ways in which the resurrected Christ is revealed.  First, Jesus appears to the disciples and says, “Peace be with you.”  Overjoyed by his appearance Jesus again says “Peace be with you.”  A week later when Thomas is present, Jesus again appears and says, “Peace be with you.”  Once for the Father, once for the son, and once for the Holy Spirit.  Jesus is revealed in the peace we share.  You see, Thomas did not doubt the resurrection.  Thomas doubts what his friends have said about the resurrection.  He didn’t doubt Jesus.  He doubts his friends.  When the disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord,” Thomas replies, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger in his side, I will not believe.”  I’m rather preaching to the choir when I urge you to believe in the resurrection, but does our love of God overflow our cup to incorporate Jesus’ command to love each other as Christ loves us, and not just us but those whom God is calling to soon be here?  “Peace be with you,” the resurrected Lord proclaims.  The first rule of resurrection is for peace to abide with you.

Secondly, Jesus is revealed through healed wounds.  Jesus presents his wounds to Thomas and says, “Put your finger here.  See my hands.  See my side.”  Jesus is revealed when wounds are healed.  Living as resurrected people means that we are open and honest about our humanity, our frailty, our faults, but we don’t stop there.  In a covenantal community we share our wounds not to perpetuate gossip or blame, but so that we might be healed.  Jesus’ wounds remain, but they are healed by the grace of God, likewise when we acknowledge our wounds they too will be healed.  Jesus is revealed in the peace we share and in the wounds we heal.

Finally, Jesus says, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”  To whom is Jesus referring?  Notice the language.  It is not blessed are those who have not seen and will believe.  It is past tense.  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.  Who outside of the gathering of disciples have believed in the resurrected Lord?  Who is Jesus touching who is not here with us this morning?  In other words, it is the great commission in the Gospel of John.  Who is Jesus calling who have not yet made their way here to bless our community of faith?  The resurrection is life giving even outside of these walls.  Jesus is saying, “Go from this place showing my peace and my healing to those who feel Christ working, but have not yet seen it in practice.”

Jesus is revealed in the peace we share, the wounds we heal, and the practice of our faith with those who have not yet seen the beauty and the glory of God.  Let us go in peace , in our healed and shared brokenness to transform the world.  I’ll believe it when I see it?  I’ll believe Christ when I see Christ?  No.  The world is saying, “I will see it when I believe it.”  I’ll see Christ when I believe and trust in the body of Christ, the church, when I trust the peace of Christ they share and the healing of Christ they offer.  Praise be to God.  Amen.

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Love Wins . . .

Posted on April 10, 2012 by

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void.  Darkness covered the face of the deep and God’s spirit hovered over the waters.  Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light, and God saw the light and it was good.  Day after day God’s love overflows God’s own heart allowing the sky and all that it is in, the sea and all that is in it, the land and all that is in it to be.  On the sixth day God creates male and female in the divine image and says, “Be fruitful and multiply.”  On the seventh day, God rested.  I think Genesis 1 tells the whole story of our faith with a divinely wide angle, like looking at a painting from a distance.  Within the frame we see that God created everything, seen and unseen, God called it good, and when it was all said and done, God and creation rested in mutual adoration.  Now when you zoom in on the painting the picture begins to change.  It’s not that it’s any more or less beautiful—it’s different.  Instead of the full picture you see brush strokes.  Instead of seeing the sun and moon and Sabbath in one breath, you see the rocks and trees and streams and valleys.  Getting even closer to the painting the picture is even more distorted.  Instead of faces you see vague hints of dark and light.  Going further you see globs of paint which seem to make little sense at all.  For a few moments, imagine creation as a painting and the closer we get to the tapestry of day six, we see the whole of human history in the brush strokes.

With squinting eyes we peer into day six and see the Fall, Adam and Eve eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.  We follow the brush strokes to see the Ancient Israelites freed from Egypt.  With our magnifying glass we see a Temple built in Jerusalem housing the Ark of the Covenant.  The colors become gnarly and rough as the Temple is destroyed and the people are exiled.  The dark globs of paint become a bit brighter as we see the exiles return to rebuild the Temple.  Then we see earthy browns and reds and heavenly blues and life-giving green as a child is born in Bethlehem.  We watch as the child grows and matures and begins preaching that the kingdom of God is at hand.  We see him feeding thousands, healing the sick, loving the unlovable, breaking bread and pouring wine.  Then the colors turn dark as the authorities hang him on a cross.  The earth quakes, the temple curtain is torn and his body is laid in the tomb. The brush strokes stop.  Our eyes meet the frame as we look up to see that there was an evening and there was a morning, the sixth day is complete, and God rested on the seventh day in the person of Jesus in the tomb.

Our text today reads, “When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint Jesus.  And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb.  They had been saying to one another, ‘Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?’  When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back.  As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were afraid.  But he said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.  He has been raised; he is not here.  Look, there is the place they laid him.  But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him just as he told you.’  So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

On the first day of the week the women go to the tomb and see a messenger from God.  They react in fear, a fear which remembers the darkness and void and chaos before God spoke being into existence.  The messenger calls to them saying, “Do not be afraid.”  I remember when I was about five or so years old, my parents and I watched the world premiere of Michal Jackson’s “Thriller” video, you know, the one where zombies roam the streets attacking a young woman.  I couldn’t sleep that night.  I had to sleep with the lights on.  There’s something about fear and the dark.  I think it’s because we don’t know what’s out there and we typically assume the worst.  The messenger says, “Do not be afraid,” which sounds like God looking at the darkness and saying, “Let there be light.”  God’s first act of creation was to crucify our fear, but God didn’t stop there.  It’s not just darkness which fuels our fear.

Again, when I was young I remember going to the store with my mother one afternoon.  We walked into the store together.  My mother went to get a shopping cart and I turned and was drawn to the quarter machines, you know, the ones where you can get silly puddy or fake tattoos or bouncy balls.  Anyway, I became fixated on one of the machines that had transformer stickers.  I started looking for a quarter on the ground, but found none.  So, I started shaking the machine a bit, hoping that one of the plastic capsules would fall down.  When that didn’t work I stuck my arm up into the machine trying to nab one of the containers myself.  None of these tactics worked, so I finally gave up.  I turned around to rejoin my mother . . . and she was gone.  The same feeling I felt when the lights were off started bubbling up (hands out).  I became afraid, not because it was dark, but because I was alone.  The messenger says, “Tell his disciples that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”  Jesus will be with you to the end.  Christ is risen is God’s “Let there be light,” burning the darkness away.  Jesus will be with you is like God saying in Genesis, “It is not good that man is alone.  I will make for him a partner.”  God again crucifies our fear by promising to be with us.

Sometimes it’s not the darkness nor our solitude, but our past which gives fear permission to control us.  In the Resurrection, God is breaking the rules.  The world wants us to believe that there is life or death.  When we live as the world dictates it causes us to be self preserving, combative.  It makes us think that what is here on earth is all there is, including our faults and failures and sin.  The Resurrection reveals that there is more to what God is doing.  There is life.  There is death.  There is life beyond death.  God has turned the world on its head, and because our story does not end in death, there is nothing to fear.

Paul writes in Romans 8, “It is Christ Jesus who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us.  Who will separate us from the love of Christ?  Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, not things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor de3pth, nor anything in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  Christ is Risen, dispelling the darkness.  We will see him because he will not leave us orphaned.  Through his death and resurrection, Christ crucifies our past making all things, including us, new.

And then we take a step back from the brush strokes and we again see the masterpiece. God creates.  God says it is good.  God and creation rest in mutual adoration.  It is good.  It is very good.  Christ is risen.  Do not be afraid.  There is nothing to fear because the darkness is gone, Christ is alive and promises to be with us, our past has been reconciled, and most importantly . . . love wins!  Amen!

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Pastoral Prayer, Sunday, March 25th, Lent 5B

Posted on March 25, 2012 by

Gracious God, God of the covenant, in the glory of the cross your Son embraced the power of death and broke its hold over your people.  During these few weeks of Lent we pray that you draw us near so that we may confess Jesus as Lord and put aside the deeds of death and accept the life of your kingdom.

Holy Father, Father of Christ who both bore our shame, and gave us the example of how to live according to your love, give us hope.  By your Spirit, fill us with a heart of adoration and thanksgiving for your gift of salvation through Christ.  By your Spirit, move us to show others that they are loved and valued through our prayers, our presence, our gifts, our service, and our witness.  Help us to show compassion and kindness, hospitality and forgiveness.  Let us be just and merciful as you are just and merciful to us.

Sovereign Lord, Father of all in the power of the Holy Spirit, you alone can bring into order our unruly wills and affections.  Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise, that among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely be fixed where true joys are to be found.  We pray this through Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever as we continue to pray saying:

Our Father, who art in heaven

Hallowed be thy name

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done

On earth as it is in heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our trespasses

As we forgive those who trespass against us

Lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever.  Amen.

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Rainbow Connection

Posted on March 19, 2012 by

Here’s my daughter singing at the church Variety Show.

Rainbow Connection

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Jesus, Pilate, and Barabbas

Posted on March 19, 2012 by

Much like Jesus’ betrayal, arrest, and denial, we again find ourselves as a self-reflecting audience of a three-act drama.  Last week we discovered that Peter’s denial, “I do not know or understand what you are talking about,” was a fearful expression narrating the mob’s fear of the unknown, the council’s fear of what Jesus’ messianic claims meant, and Peter’s own objectifying of Jesus.  As last week’s story called us to reflect on our own fear of following, this week calls into question how we understand the relationship of the kingdom of God and the kingdoms we perpetuate.

I remember sitting with Isabelle and Annaleigh and flipping through “touch and feel” baby books.  Feel the duck’s feathers.  Feathers are soft.  Feel the cat’s tongue.  The tongue is rough.  A circle is round.  A square has edges.  The apple is red.  The frog is green.  At an early age we discern the world through opposites.  The only reason we know that “red” is red and “blue” is blue is because red isn’t blue and blue isn’t red.  Now let me say, because I feel strongly about this, reality is not fundamentally an expression of opposites.  The world wants us to think that there is only life or death.  Our faith teaches us that there is life, death, and life beyond death.  The world wants us to think that there is right and wrong.  Our faith teaches us that there is right and wrong and holy.  As I mentioned in our “The Will of God” series, we do not have to know evil in order to recognize good.  There is more to life than recognizing that a duck’s feathers are soft and a cat’s tongue is rough, but seeing contrast is a fair place to start opening our minds to who God is and what God does.

The author of Mark’s Gospel stretches our mind and our heart to understand the Kingdom of God in a three-act drama.  The first scene is Pilate the governor and Jesus the king.  Early in the morning the Jewish authority binds Jesus as a criminal and sends him to Pontius Pilate.  Pilate asks him, “Are you king of the Jews?”  Jesus replies, “You say so.”  It is a curious response, which is rather typical for Jesus.  “Are we to pay taxes to Caesar,” the Pharisees ask him.  Jesus replies saying, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and give to God what is God’s.”  “Are you king of the Jews?” sounds like a “yes” or “no” question, but neither a “yes,” nor a “no,” answers the questions.  Early in Israel’s history the people demanded a king.  God concedes, but tells them that it will now be up to the king to keep the law on behalf of the people, to represent the people before God.  So, yes, in the Godly sense of the word, Jesus is a king.  Jesus’ fidelity to God is what gives us access to God, but Pilate is not working from this framework.  So yes, Jesus is a king, but not in the way Pilate expects.  So the answer isn’t yes, nor is the answer no.  “Are you a King?” Pilate asks.  “You say so,” Jesus replies.  You say that I am a king.  Yes I am, but not in way you understand power, and this becomes clear later in our story.

Amazed at Jesus’ subsequent silence, Pilate gives the crowd a choice between Jesus and Barabbas in scene two.  Barabbas is closely related to the Zealots, a group who supported armed resistance against Roman occupation.  He was arrested for insurrection and fighting against the government.  In some ways, the Zealots would have cheered Jesus’ message.  Jesus preached that the powerful would be humbled and the lowly would be lifted up.  Jesus said “Blessed are the hungry for they will be filled,” and “deny yourself,” and “There is no greater love than laying down one’s life for a friend.”  This message of revolution inspired the Zealots.  Jesus even named Simon the Zealot as one of the twelve disciples.  Pilate offers the crowd the choice between two Zealots, in his mind, yet Jesus’s message is also quite different than the Zealots’.  Jesus also preached, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” and “Those who live by the sword, die by the sword,” and the story of the Good Samaritan is nearly blasphemy as far as the Zealot is concerned.  The juxtaposition goes even further.  Barabbas’ name is the clue.  The prefix, “bar” means “son of,” much like the Irish “Mc,” like “McAndrew,” meaning “Andrew’s son,” or the English “Richardson,” meaning “Richard’s son.”  The second half of his name, “Abba,” is a word meaning “Father.”  Barabbas’ name literally means, “son of the father.”  In some Gospels his name is recorded as “Jesus Barabbas,” meaning, “Jesus, son of the father.”  So the crowd has before them, Jesus, Son of the Father, and Jesus Barabbas, “Jesus, son of the father.”  In other words, the crowd is given a choice of revolution.  Would they choose an armed resistance against Rome to save the state, or would they choose a revolution of God’s kingdom, which would save the soul.  Will they choose revolution or resurrection?  The crowd shouts, “give us Barabbas,” and they call for Jesus to be crucified.

In our final scene Pilate, the clever politician, pleases the crowd by handing Jesus over to be crucified.  It is counterintuitive at best.  Pilate has the authority; Pilate has the power, yet he bows to the wishes of the crowd, giving the illusion of democracy.  It was how Rome was so successful in conquering the Mediterranean.  It is Pilate saying to Jesus, “There’s nothing I can do,” and this should give us pause.  How often do we look at poverty, oppression, and violence and say, “Jesus, there’s nothing I can do.”

Homelessness is a huge issue in our area.  There are estimated 4,500 homeless in Shreveport according to the Rescue Mission. Battling homelessness seems too large for any church to tackle.  We feel impotent in doing anything at all.  Even though there are 4,500 homeless in Shreveport there are also 788 churches in the Shreveport area, according to yellowpages.com.  If each church in Shreveport would work to establish housing for 5.7 people a year, or just over one family a year, there would be no homeless in our area.  What a beautiful image of the kingdom of God to say that because of the work of the church, there are no homeless in our area.  For the sake of the argument, let’s say that each church makes a commitment to house a family of four and a pair of roommates in two separate apartments.  The median price of apartment rent in Shreveport is $800, so if each church commits $1,600 a month for two apartments a year, this would be a cost of right around $20,000 annually.  For a church of our size, this is about 2% of the annual budget.  Now, I understand that it’s a bit more complicated than this, and not every church in our area has the resources that we do, but my point is that sometimes we make ourselves far less powerful than we are.  Sometimes we make ourselves our to be Pilate saying, “Jesus, there’s nothing I can do,” and we wash our hands of the things Jesus is calling us to do.

In our first scene we see Pilate the governor and Jesus the king.  In our second scene we have a choice between Jesus, son of the father and Jesus, Son of the Father.  In the final scene we see Pilate pleasing the crowd and Jesus who saves the crowd.  Which messiah do we choose?  Which kingdom do we desire?  Do we choose revolution which changes the government, or do we choose resurrection which changes everything?  Amen.

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My Struggle With the Skin I’m In

Posted on March 15, 2012 by

This is a difficult post for me.  I know that the body is to be a temple, but it’s a temple in which I’ve never been fully comfortable.  It started in my formative years of middle school.  My “friends” nicknamed me “The Manatee.”  I thought it was because I was a nice guy who rarely got upset about anything, but it was because on a field trip we went to the beach and I looked like a manatee swimming through the waves.  Since then I’ve always been self-conscious of my weight.  I never wear t-shirts.  I rarely wear shorts.  I would have fit right in with the Puritan dress code of the early colonies.  I joke about how I love winter because my clothes are finally in season.

 

Humor is often the way in which I cope with my unhappiness, especially about the skin I’m in.  I have more chins and less hair than I want.  I order salads in public to hide my sinful eating habits at home.  Now, I will say that I went to Weight Watchers two years ago and lost 68 pounds.  It was the best I’ve felt in years, but slowly I’m reverting back to bad habits.  I’ve gained 25 pounds since I left the accountability of a public scale, and it’s straight-up depressing.

 

What am I supposed to say about the body, other than it matters.  The body matters.  It matters what we put into it.  It matters what comes out of it.  The body is so powerful that a single touch of another human being can bring healing, or create a damaging scar which lingers for a life time.  Our bodies are so important that God chose one as the vehicle through which we find salvation.

 

If we pause for a moment and reflect on the incarnation, we may take issue with Paul’s strict dichotomy of works of the flesh and fruit of the Spirit.  Matter matters.  The Church is the body of Christ.  Yes we are to have the mind of Christ.  It is mind-blowing that the spirit of Christ lives within us, yet we are one body.  Being a communal body means that we are to care for our personal bodies, but also the bodies of others.  We are called to intervene when we see bodies being objectified.  We are to feed the bodies that lack nourishment due to economic hardship.  We are to care for the bodies which are ravaged with illness. 

 

But who am I to preach about the body?  It seems I’m more comfortable in the body of Christ than I am in my own.  So, if anything, this is a post for my own eyes to read, that my daily struggle with health will bleed over into my concern for the health of the body of Christ.

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Let’s Get Physical . . . and Spiritual: Rabbi Dr. Jana L. DeBenedetti

Posted on March 13, 2012 by

When I saw that this chapter was called, “Guf” (which is pronounced like “goof” in the Hebrew), I was sure that it was going to discuss a mystical notion, which quite frankly, is (forgive the pun) “over my head.” I was glad to see that we are actually thinking about our bodies and how they are reflected in our faith – or how our faith is reflected in our bodies.

In some ways it is very true to say that faith is expressed with our whole bodies. There is a choreography to prayer, for example. Every B’rachah (“blessing” in Hebrew) begins with the word “Baruch.” It can be translated as “Blessed” or “Praised.” Rabbi Chaim Stern (of blessed memory) used to teach that the verb is used when we do it to God, and when God does it to us – but it can’t really be the same action. He liked to say “Praised” when we are doing it to God, and “Blessed” when God is doing it to us. The same Hebrew root letters are used for the word, “Berech” which means “knee.” In many faiths we bend our knees as part of a physical way of showing humility before and praising God.

It is also true that every physical act can be acknowledged with a blessing, thanking and praising God that our bodies function the way they do. Traditionally every morning our prayers include everything from removing sleep from the eyes, to helping the blind to see; making firm our steps and even having our organs and systems working to appreciate successful bathroom experiences.
As we have already discussed, consideration of our bodies includes what kinds of foods we eat, and even what kinds of clothes we wear. We are taught to take care of our body, because it is a gift from God.

We are also taught: “Do not look at the container, rather look at what is in it.” There was a story about an ugly rabbi who was a brilliant man – so smart that the king consulted with him often to get advice. One day the king’s daughter asked the rabbi how God could put such a smart brain into such an ugly man. The rabbi said he did not know. He then asked the daughter if she would like to do something to help her father. The father was preparing a banquet for many dignitaries that night. He asked the girl if the father was planning to serve wine to the guests. The daughter said that she was sure he would. The rabbi said that it looked like the wine was going to be served in clay pitchers, and perhaps she could pick the finest, loveliest pitchers for the wine, so that the father could impress his guests. The daughter put the wine in silver pitchers. Unfortunately, when the guests drank the wine that was in the silver pitchers, it tasted terrible. The silver had reacted with the silver and the wine had spoiled. He explained to her that the loveliest vessel on the outside may not be the best way to store precious things. The focus should have been on the wine, and not the pitcher. Of course, a lovely ceramic pitcher could have been chosen to impress the guests and also be better for serving the wine. We can acknowledge what looks good too.

Although much of the chapter about Guf in Mudhouse Sabbath was trying to make a point about body image, I realized something else as a result of reading her discussions. I felt that there are lessons to be learned about finding spirituality in the physical. It seemed that “Guf” was a way of representing the physical aspect of the human experience. I realized that most often in the lessons from the Scriptural writings, people became aware of God’s spirit through physical experiences. At Sinai, God’s presence was so palpable that we could “see” the words. For example, as we are in a period when we are step by step “reliving” the sequence of events that led to freedom, as represented by Passover, I started to realize how many times God’s spirit was understood only because of physical things happening around us: the burning bush, plagues, parting seas, manna, water from a rock, pillar of smoke or fire – even the fact that we needed a Tabernacle with an Ark in the Holy of Holies – these were all ways that we, as physical beings could relate to the spiritual.

Acknowledging with awe the body that God has given us is another way for us to find God’s spirit. The spirit of God is in each of us. Often when we look for God we may try to find it in physical signs. Often the answer is within ourselves. We can learn to see our bodies as a spiritual gift and see our spirits as manifested in our bodies.

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