This week's scriptures are Luke 7:36-50 and Acts 8:26-39.
Both of these stories are about people who would,under their cultural context, be cut off from worship and relationship with God. One is a woman with a shady reputation; the other is a eunuch.
In the story from Luke, the Pharisee who had invited Jesus to dinner sees this woman crying over Jesus feet and drying them with her hair as says to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him-that she is a sinner." He uses this incident to judge not only the woman, but Jesus as well.
The Ethiopian Eunuch is on his way back from Jerusalem where he had gone to worship. Think about it....here is a man who is a convert to the Jewish faith, who has come to Jerusalem to worship KNOWING that because of his physical condition (having been castrated) that there are limits to where he will be allowed to worship. There are places in the temple where he cannot go. Yet he still comes to Jerusalem.
Both of these people come to faith with questions about whether they will still be outcasts. Can you hear the trembling question in the eunuch's voice when he says to Philip, ":look there is water! Is there anything that will prevent me from being baptized?" A paraphrase of that question might be, "Does Jesus hold my condition against me too?"
I think many of us still ask that question. In the deep part of our hearts we want to know if the things we know about ourselves, the secrets that we clutch so tightly will keep us from Jesus love.
And there are those outside the church who look at us and ask the same questions. This is AIDS Awareness Week. On Thursday I'll be at the AIDS Awareness Luncheon with Joann and others who are deeply committed to this issue. We need to ask ourselves, "What do persons with HIV/AIDS hear from us about their welcome into the fellowship of those who seek to follow Jesus?" We can ask the same question in regard to those with mental illnesses, addictions, questionable sexual behaviors, and disabilities. What is our answer when they look at us and say, "Does Jesus hold my condition against me?" "Is there anything that will prevent me from being baptized (welcomed completely into the fellowship)?"
While 'litmus tests' may be okay for political parties; they are off limits when it comes to who we welcome into the Body of Christ. Jesus said, "Who so ever will...let them come." That's pretty clear. He didn't say, "Let them come after they clean up their act, after they've been in recovery for a year or two, after they're on their medication" no, He said, "Let them come."
I love the old Hymn, "Love Lifted Me." I especially love the bass line in the chorus where the response to "love lifted me" is "even me." And the final line, "when nothing else could help....love lifted me." When nothing else could help, when nothing at all could save me from my shame and my alienation and my fear of rejection.....Love lifted me.
The doors are always open into the Kingdom....God's arms are always reaching out. Thanks be to God.
See you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Hospitality as Noticing
This week's scriptures are Luke 13:10-17 and Luke 14:1-6.
There are a lot of things that can be said about the story found in Luke 13:10-17; and we're going to talk about some of them on Sunday. But I'd like, for just a moment to focus on one thing in particular...that is that Jesus noticed this woman.
Unlike many of the people whom Jesus healed, she didn't come to him asking for healing. She wasn't part of throng that cried out to him or gathered when he was surrounded by the sick and the lame. She was at church...she was worshipping in the synagogue...bent and in pain....and Jesus noticed her.
Probably everyone in the synagogue knew this woman. They passed her on the street, at the well, in the market. They had come-perhaps-to be so accustomed to her bent shape that they took for granted that this was how she was. Even those women who had grown up with her as children, who remembered her as a playmate, had shifted out of their awareness their memory of her as someone whose back was once straight and strong. She was just the bend woman of the village....until Jesus noticed.
He could have done nothing. He could have gone and finished his teaching message and gone about his regular pattern when he was in the synagogue and it wouldn't have been in any way remarkable. But Jesus noticed and out of that noticing, he acted to free this woman from her pain.
It makes me wonder if hospitality doesn't begin with our eyes. With what we notice. Does 'making a place' for people begin with noticing that they need a place?
Does it begin with paying attention to the people we pass each day who are 'bent' in some ways by how the years have affected them. Does having the 'eyes of Jesus' mean looking at our world in a way that notices what needs to change, who needs help, rather than sliding by thinking like the song from the musical "that's the way it goes; everybody knows. That's the way it's always been and how it's gotta be."
"Noticing." It is such a small thing. But it's interesting that Jesus follows up this incident...perhaps immediately...by talking about small things. Listen to verses 18-21
And he said therefore, "What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it? It is like a mustard sed that someone took and swed in the garden: it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches." And again, he said, "To what shaould I compare the kingdom of God? It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened."
A small thing, noticing, may be the very thing that opens the door of God's hospitality....the hospitality that Jesus called The Kingdom of God.
See you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
There are a lot of things that can be said about the story found in Luke 13:10-17; and we're going to talk about some of them on Sunday. But I'd like, for just a moment to focus on one thing in particular...that is that Jesus noticed this woman.
Unlike many of the people whom Jesus healed, she didn't come to him asking for healing. She wasn't part of throng that cried out to him or gathered when he was surrounded by the sick and the lame. She was at church...she was worshipping in the synagogue...bent and in pain....and Jesus noticed her.
Probably everyone in the synagogue knew this woman. They passed her on the street, at the well, in the market. They had come-perhaps-to be so accustomed to her bent shape that they took for granted that this was how she was. Even those women who had grown up with her as children, who remembered her as a playmate, had shifted out of their awareness their memory of her as someone whose back was once straight and strong. She was just the bend woman of the village....until Jesus noticed.
He could have done nothing. He could have gone and finished his teaching message and gone about his regular pattern when he was in the synagogue and it wouldn't have been in any way remarkable. But Jesus noticed and out of that noticing, he acted to free this woman from her pain.
It makes me wonder if hospitality doesn't begin with our eyes. With what we notice. Does 'making a place' for people begin with noticing that they need a place?
Does it begin with paying attention to the people we pass each day who are 'bent' in some ways by how the years have affected them. Does having the 'eyes of Jesus' mean looking at our world in a way that notices what needs to change, who needs help, rather than sliding by thinking like the song from the musical "that's the way it goes; everybody knows. That's the way it's always been and how it's gotta be."
"Noticing." It is such a small thing. But it's interesting that Jesus follows up this incident...perhaps immediately...by talking about small things. Listen to verses 18-21
And he said therefore, "What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it? It is like a mustard sed that someone took and swed in the garden: it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches." And again, he said, "To what shaould I compare the kingdom of God? It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened."
A small thing, noticing, may be the very thing that opens the door of God's hospitality....the hospitality that Jesus called The Kingdom of God.
See you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Hospitality and Justice
This week's scriptures are Deuteronomy 24:10-22 and James 2: 1-13.
We're spending a few weeks talking about various aspects of hospitality as a Christian discipline or practice. This week's scriptures are about hospitality as an element of justice for the powerless (in Deuteronomy it is the alien and the poor, in James the focus is on the poor).
The Deuteronomy passage is very blunt. It speaks to the impact of behavior on people's ability to eat and to stay warm. Verses 19-22 in particular talk about not taking everything that you can from your field or vineyard or olive trees....about leaving something for the poor, the widow, the alien to gather so that they can survive.
And the reasoning behind this is striking: "Keep in mind that you were slaves in Egypt; that is why I command you to do this." (vs.22) The people of Israel are commanded to look after those who are different, who are poverty stricken, who are voiceless because they were once slaves who were voiceless and poor. The call to a hospitality is rooted in what God had done for them when they were among the aliens.
It is this 'Hospitality as Justice' that can help rescue our idea of hospitality from being a 'softy and fuzzy' kind of niceness. True hospitality is gentle...but it is also strong. It understands the need of the stranger because it has experienced being the stranger.
God's hospitality, Jesus' hospitality will open us up to involvement in issues of justice and care in ways we cannot even imagine. One way to begin letting it do this is to take either one of these scriptures and ask ourselves as we look at Deuteronomy, "what is our time's equivilent of 'holding back the wages of a man who is poor' or 'returning his cloak to him at sunset'?" What ways do we face the issue of the kind of impartiality that James talks about in that passage?
We'll be having a pancake brunch and Bible study on Saturday at 10:00 a.m. Jeremy has kindly offered to help me flip pancakes. And we'll be looking at this theme of hospitality more closely. I hope you can join us; and I hope to see you on Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
We're spending a few weeks talking about various aspects of hospitality as a Christian discipline or practice. This week's scriptures are about hospitality as an element of justice for the powerless (in Deuteronomy it is the alien and the poor, in James the focus is on the poor).
The Deuteronomy passage is very blunt. It speaks to the impact of behavior on people's ability to eat and to stay warm. Verses 19-22 in particular talk about not taking everything that you can from your field or vineyard or olive trees....about leaving something for the poor, the widow, the alien to gather so that they can survive.
And the reasoning behind this is striking: "Keep in mind that you were slaves in Egypt; that is why I command you to do this." (vs.22) The people of Israel are commanded to look after those who are different, who are poverty stricken, who are voiceless because they were once slaves who were voiceless and poor. The call to a hospitality is rooted in what God had done for them when they were among the aliens.
It is this 'Hospitality as Justice' that can help rescue our idea of hospitality from being a 'softy and fuzzy' kind of niceness. True hospitality is gentle...but it is also strong. It understands the need of the stranger because it has experienced being the stranger.
God's hospitality, Jesus' hospitality will open us up to involvement in issues of justice and care in ways we cannot even imagine. One way to begin letting it do this is to take either one of these scriptures and ask ourselves as we look at Deuteronomy, "what is our time's equivilent of 'holding back the wages of a man who is poor' or 'returning his cloak to him at sunset'?" What ways do we face the issue of the kind of impartiality that James talks about in that passage?
We'll be having a pancake brunch and Bible study on Saturday at 10:00 a.m. Jeremy has kindly offered to help me flip pancakes. And we'll be looking at this theme of hospitality more closely. I hope you can join us; and I hope to see you on Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Thursday, August 28, 2008
From Charity to Hospitality
This week's scriptures are Matthew 9:10-17 and Revelation 3:14-22.
One of the most scathing indictments brought against Jesus and his ministry was that he would eat with anybody. To share a table with persons who were notorious sinners, who were sick, who were ritually unclean...with all the meaning that Jesus' culture attached to 'table fellowship' was a scandal. As icing on the cake of their accusations, these same persons referred to Jesus as a "glutton and a drunk." That way they could write off the challenge to their ideas of holiness that Jesus' behavior presented....after all, he was just partying with these folks for the food and the booze...probably too bombed to realize the kind of people who were hanging out around him. In fact, in a story we'll be looking at in a few weeks, the people watching Jesus said (my loose translation), "if he was really God's guy, he'd know what kind of woman this is fawning all over him."
Charity...giving alms to the poor...that was one thing. You can look down at someone you're giving charity to-in fact that's one of the great temptations about charitable giving. But to do the things (particularly eating with them) that symbolized relationship and equality-that's a whole 'nother ball game.
Some years ago, while living in another city, I passed a man in an alley pulling food from the garbage can. I watched for a moment as he pawed through the scrapes and pulled up a large piece of discarded pizza. At that point I called out to him and motioned him to follow me into the resturant whose garbage can he was rummaging through. I gave the clerk some money and told him to give him whatever food he wanted-but no alcohol-and that the rest was his tip. When the street person looked at me and asked why he couldn't have the change, I said, "do you want to eat or not."
I walked out feeling very, very good about myself. I had feed the hungry. I hadn't contributed to the man's (I thought obvious) addiction. And I'd left a nice tip for the resturant waiter. What a truly fine person I was.
I look back on this incident now with some shame. This wasn't hospitality...it was charity...and an arrogant, contemptous charity at that. I didn't welcome this man into my circle. I related to him as a thing-a homeless addict. I judged his life based on his poverty and the level of need to which he had fallen. I did not-would not/could not-see that in a country where most of us live 3-4 morgage or rent payments (or less) away from homelessness, that this man and I had much more in common than we had different. And to top it off, I just naturally assumed that his condition was the result of an addiction...it had to be his fault. I have often thought it strange that when you or I or one of our friends comes home from a really rough day and pours a drink...it's "taking the edge off a bad day." But when a homeless person drowns their pain with Mogan David 20/20 they put themselves in the catagory of the "undeserving poor."
So I ask myself the famous question, "What would Jesus do?" And I'm not totally sure of the answer...or at least the whole answer. But here's what I believe would have happened in part:
Jesus would have walked up and said, as he stuck out his hand, "hey, I'm Jesus. How about having lunch with me."
And, when he got that 'what do you want in return' look (cause if you've always got to be working an angle to survive, you figure everybody else is too), he'd have just laughed and gone, "just lunch...you'll be good company...come on."
They'd have walked into the resturant and Jesus would have sat down with this man. They'd have both ordered. Maybe they'd both have a beer-who knows. And Jesus would listen. Maybe the man would tell his story. Maybe he'd want to talk about the Red Sox. Jesus would share the table...his time....himself. No judgement. No distance. Just Jesus.
Now that's hospitality. But you know Jesus....he'll eat with anybody....even you and me.
See you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
One of the most scathing indictments brought against Jesus and his ministry was that he would eat with anybody. To share a table with persons who were notorious sinners, who were sick, who were ritually unclean...with all the meaning that Jesus' culture attached to 'table fellowship' was a scandal. As icing on the cake of their accusations, these same persons referred to Jesus as a "glutton and a drunk." That way they could write off the challenge to their ideas of holiness that Jesus' behavior presented....after all, he was just partying with these folks for the food and the booze...probably too bombed to realize the kind of people who were hanging out around him. In fact, in a story we'll be looking at in a few weeks, the people watching Jesus said (my loose translation), "if he was really God's guy, he'd know what kind of woman this is fawning all over him."
Charity...giving alms to the poor...that was one thing. You can look down at someone you're giving charity to-in fact that's one of the great temptations about charitable giving. But to do the things (particularly eating with them) that symbolized relationship and equality-that's a whole 'nother ball game.
Some years ago, while living in another city, I passed a man in an alley pulling food from the garbage can. I watched for a moment as he pawed through the scrapes and pulled up a large piece of discarded pizza. At that point I called out to him and motioned him to follow me into the resturant whose garbage can he was rummaging through. I gave the clerk some money and told him to give him whatever food he wanted-but no alcohol-and that the rest was his tip. When the street person looked at me and asked why he couldn't have the change, I said, "do you want to eat or not."
I walked out feeling very, very good about myself. I had feed the hungry. I hadn't contributed to the man's (I thought obvious) addiction. And I'd left a nice tip for the resturant waiter. What a truly fine person I was.
I look back on this incident now with some shame. This wasn't hospitality...it was charity...and an arrogant, contemptous charity at that. I didn't welcome this man into my circle. I related to him as a thing-a homeless addict. I judged his life based on his poverty and the level of need to which he had fallen. I did not-would not/could not-see that in a country where most of us live 3-4 morgage or rent payments (or less) away from homelessness, that this man and I had much more in common than we had different. And to top it off, I just naturally assumed that his condition was the result of an addiction...it had to be his fault. I have often thought it strange that when you or I or one of our friends comes home from a really rough day and pours a drink...it's "taking the edge off a bad day." But when a homeless person drowns their pain with Mogan David 20/20 they put themselves in the catagory of the "undeserving poor."
So I ask myself the famous question, "What would Jesus do?" And I'm not totally sure of the answer...or at least the whole answer. But here's what I believe would have happened in part:
Jesus would have walked up and said, as he stuck out his hand, "hey, I'm Jesus. How about having lunch with me."
And, when he got that 'what do you want in return' look (cause if you've always got to be working an angle to survive, you figure everybody else is too), he'd have just laughed and gone, "just lunch...you'll be good company...come on."
They'd have walked into the resturant and Jesus would have sat down with this man. They'd have both ordered. Maybe they'd both have a beer-who knows. And Jesus would listen. Maybe the man would tell his story. Maybe he'd want to talk about the Red Sox. Jesus would share the table...his time....himself. No judgement. No distance. Just Jesus.
Now that's hospitality. But you know Jesus....he'll eat with anybody....even you and me.
See you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Thoughts on Last Sunday
I'm heading out later today on another week's vacation before the Fall sets in with all its demands. But I had some thought about Sunday's meditative service to share before I go.
It seems to me (and I admit that I have a lot of theological bias in this direction anyway) that the things said in our sharing about where we think God is leading us have a lot to do with the ministry and discipline of 'Christian Hospitality,' Over the next few weeks we'll be exploring what that means (you saw that coming didn't you?) and how we might live that out.
The first thing that needs to be said is that this hospitality begins with God. It is God's hospitality toward us that is the model for our hospitality to the world.
I heard two kinds of hospitality mentioned Sunday. The first is a hospitality in which our church becomes (continues to become) a place where people can discover and grow in their gifts, skills, and talents; a place of nurture for what God has planted in each of us. The second is a hospitality that reaches out and welcomes the outsider, the different, the lonely.
Both of these are present in our congregation now. Both are reflective of the hospitality we as individuals and as a congregation have recieved from God. As we move forward together may we nurture this gift and be stretched and challenged as we work to create space for Jesus' great banquet of love to happen over and over here.
See you in two weeks.
Shalom,
Stephen
It seems to me (and I admit that I have a lot of theological bias in this direction anyway) that the things said in our sharing about where we think God is leading us have a lot to do with the ministry and discipline of 'Christian Hospitality,' Over the next few weeks we'll be exploring what that means (you saw that coming didn't you?) and how we might live that out.
The first thing that needs to be said is that this hospitality begins with God. It is God's hospitality toward us that is the model for our hospitality to the world.
I heard two kinds of hospitality mentioned Sunday. The first is a hospitality in which our church becomes (continues to become) a place where people can discover and grow in their gifts, skills, and talents; a place of nurture for what God has planted in each of us. The second is a hospitality that reaches out and welcomes the outsider, the different, the lonely.
Both of these are present in our congregation now. Both are reflective of the hospitality we as individuals and as a congregation have recieved from God. As we move forward together may we nurture this gift and be stretched and challenged as we work to create space for Jesus' great banquet of love to happen over and over here.
See you in two weeks.
Shalom,
Stephen
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Having the Mind of a Servant Jesus
This week's scriptures are Matthew 12:15-21, Romans 12:1-8, and Philippians 2:5-11.
'Be a sacrifice,' 'have the mind of Christ'....all of these are high sounding, noble phrases. So much so that we can lose track of what they are calling us to in some lofty expectation of "perfection" that we know we cannot reach. Then we either give up (often in despair) or-what is perhaps worse-become spiritually arrogant about how good we are.
These scriptures come at the end of a brief sermon series meant to help our congregation explore what our ministry should be in the larger community around us. What are we called to do and be. We started with the story of the Good Samaritan and began asking ourselves to look for the "neighbor beside the road" and to try looking at our community through Christ's eyes.
This Sunday, in a medition and pray type service we will share with each other what we feel God is leading us toward.
In preparation for that I would like to focus on two particular images we find in these scriptures: gentle mercy and servanthood.
The Matthew passage uses a quote from the prophet Isaiah that "the bruised reed he will not break and the smouldering wick he will not snuff out." There are a lot of ways that interpreters have played with these two images, but all of them come down to the idea that Jesus does not do violence to our fragile state. He does not beat us up spiritually or otherwise when we are vulnerable in our shame or our weakness. He sees us as worthy of mercy. If we are to be "transformed by the renewing of our minds" so that we have the "mind of Christ" I believe that it calls for us to be acutely aware of the fragile state of many of the folks we encounter. They don't look fragile at first. They look angry, or violent, or distant and aloof. Jesus looks at them and sees the painful wounds they're trying to protect. Can we learn to do the same?
The next image comes from Philippians. This passage was, most likely, taken from the words of a hymn in the early church. It's theme is the 'servanthood' of Jesus. Now 'servanthood' was a word that got tossed around a lot a few years back (though not so much these days). I sometimes think that two of the reasons it lost popularity was 1) that it got identified with a kind of sickly sweet pious humility (not a pretty picture); and-maybe more important-we (myself included) discovered how difficult a model for living this is!
See it's one thing for me to see myself as a 'servant' to you if you're a clean, upstanding, middleclass person like myself. When 'servanthood' means that I offer you a ride when your car breaks down (that is if I know you and you're not too far out of my way) or some similar 'sacrifice' on my part. I can feel good about engaging in that kind of servanthood.
But what if you're a different ethnic group? An abusive mother? A drunk? A mentally ill person? Or maybe you're just an obnoxious jerk who doesn't think like I do...what then? How am I supposed to be the servant to a wife beating, drug addicted person with PTSD? This is where it gets sticky. Let me make it worse...the best translation of that greek word "doulos" isn't "servant." It's "slave."
Jesus did not pick and chose his servanthood in regard to who he would serve. What I believe he did do was to make himself the servant, the slave, of the Image of God in them. He served what they were created to be. I don't know that trying to follow this example is any easier, but it does give me a way to understand what the goal is without colluding with the worst of behavior. With a drug addict, I can make myself the servant of his/her 'recovering self' and not to his/her addiction.
Nancy told a wonderful story at the Bible study last night that I hope she'll share on Sunday about the difference between 'service' that is what we want to do and being in the service of what the person we're helping has as their goal.
Living out this idea of ministry as a church here in Annapolis won't be easy. It's going to call us to examine our gifts; the needs of the community; and our openness to being led by the Spirit into new and challenging places. Frankly, I'm a little scared...I don't know where it will take us, or how it will change me. But I'm also excited. I hope you are too.
Hope you'll join us Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
'Be a sacrifice,' 'have the mind of Christ'....all of these are high sounding, noble phrases. So much so that we can lose track of what they are calling us to in some lofty expectation of "perfection" that we know we cannot reach. Then we either give up (often in despair) or-what is perhaps worse-become spiritually arrogant about how good we are.
These scriptures come at the end of a brief sermon series meant to help our congregation explore what our ministry should be in the larger community around us. What are we called to do and be. We started with the story of the Good Samaritan and began asking ourselves to look for the "neighbor beside the road" and to try looking at our community through Christ's eyes.
This Sunday, in a medition and pray type service we will share with each other what we feel God is leading us toward.
In preparation for that I would like to focus on two particular images we find in these scriptures: gentle mercy and servanthood.
The Matthew passage uses a quote from the prophet Isaiah that "the bruised reed he will not break and the smouldering wick he will not snuff out." There are a lot of ways that interpreters have played with these two images, but all of them come down to the idea that Jesus does not do violence to our fragile state. He does not beat us up spiritually or otherwise when we are vulnerable in our shame or our weakness. He sees us as worthy of mercy. If we are to be "transformed by the renewing of our minds" so that we have the "mind of Christ" I believe that it calls for us to be acutely aware of the fragile state of many of the folks we encounter. They don't look fragile at first. They look angry, or violent, or distant and aloof. Jesus looks at them and sees the painful wounds they're trying to protect. Can we learn to do the same?
The next image comes from Philippians. This passage was, most likely, taken from the words of a hymn in the early church. It's theme is the 'servanthood' of Jesus. Now 'servanthood' was a word that got tossed around a lot a few years back (though not so much these days). I sometimes think that two of the reasons it lost popularity was 1) that it got identified with a kind of sickly sweet pious humility (not a pretty picture); and-maybe more important-we (myself included) discovered how difficult a model for living this is!
See it's one thing for me to see myself as a 'servant' to you if you're a clean, upstanding, middleclass person like myself. When 'servanthood' means that I offer you a ride when your car breaks down (that is if I know you and you're not too far out of my way) or some similar 'sacrifice' on my part. I can feel good about engaging in that kind of servanthood.
But what if you're a different ethnic group? An abusive mother? A drunk? A mentally ill person? Or maybe you're just an obnoxious jerk who doesn't think like I do...what then? How am I supposed to be the servant to a wife beating, drug addicted person with PTSD? This is where it gets sticky. Let me make it worse...the best translation of that greek word "doulos" isn't "servant." It's "slave."
Jesus did not pick and chose his servanthood in regard to who he would serve. What I believe he did do was to make himself the servant, the slave, of the Image of God in them. He served what they were created to be. I don't know that trying to follow this example is any easier, but it does give me a way to understand what the goal is without colluding with the worst of behavior. With a drug addict, I can make myself the servant of his/her 'recovering self' and not to his/her addiction.
Nancy told a wonderful story at the Bible study last night that I hope she'll share on Sunday about the difference between 'service' that is what we want to do and being in the service of what the person we're helping has as their goal.
Living out this idea of ministry as a church here in Annapolis won't be easy. It's going to call us to examine our gifts; the needs of the community; and our openness to being led by the Spirit into new and challenging places. Frankly, I'm a little scared...I don't know where it will take us, or how it will change me. But I'm also excited. I hope you are too.
Hope you'll join us Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Friday, August 8, 2008
Naming-And Claiming-My 'Pigs'
This week's scripture is Mark 5: 1-20.
Well, we're back from vacation. Apparently there were small wagers as to whether I would show up on Sunday (I guess folks thought I'd sleep in), but I fooled them all and actually managed to get there.
Last Sunday's Biblical story was about a gentile woman who came to Jesus asking for help for her daughter. As we 'unwrapped' the story we found that it was also a story about the disciples being confronted with a concrete expression of the wide gulf between their racial/religious bigotries and the love that Jesus was attempting to teach them is a cornerstone of the Kingdom of God.
This week's story from Jesus' life also takes place with a gentile. It goes a step further and occurs in a gentile territory. Jesus gets out of the boat after crossing the lake and is immediately confronted by a man with a serious mental illness. Early Hebrew material listed four characteristics of the mentally ill: walking around at night, tearing one's clothes, giving back things given to you, and hanging out in graveyards. So whether you're working out of an ancient model that say the illness is caused by 'demons', or a modern one that says there is a 'chemical imbalance', there is no argument about the resulting illness. (We'll talk some more about demons on Sunday).
What I'd like to focus on here is the fact that the 'demons' were told they could go into the herd of pigs that was nearby. In The Journeying Self Diarmuid McGann asks us what happens if we look at these pigs as a metyphor for all the things about ourselves that we project onto others. The 'demons' from this man's life are sent/projected into the pigs. That action is so destructive that the herd is destroyed.
Let me explain what I mean. I hate arrogant people. I mean I really, really hate them. They set my teeth on edge. Being in the room with one makes me want to grab them by the collar and punch them. (Some of you who know me can probably see where this is going). The problem is that the arrogance I hate in them is often my projecting my distaste/hatred of my own arrogance onto someone else. The truth is, if I've got that strong a reaction to someone....I probably need to look at what in me is pushing the intensity of this reaction. And in the case of arrogance, I am really put off by the fact that when I am feeling insecure, or scared I use my arrogance as a shield to protect me from those feelings....and from letting you see those feelings in me.
These kinds of projections are truly 'demonic' in that they are life destroying-both our lives and those of the ones we project onto. They seperate us from those we're called by Christ to love and embrace as brothers and sisters. And they block us from looking at the places in our life where we need to examine, change, and grow.
Obviously the man Jesus healed was not in a place to do that kind of self examination as long as he was roaming around the tombs and cutting himself. He needed another kind of healing first. But you and I? Maybe one of the things (not the only thing, but one of them) that this scripture is calling us to do is to 'name and claim' our 'pigs.' Where are the places that I'm blaming others, hating others, judging others that represent things in my life that I need to be exploring in prayer and meditation and bringing to Jesus for healing?
We'll be looking at some other parts of this story on Sunday. I hope you'll be able to join us. If you're away, or live somewhere else, please remember that we're posting the sermons here on our webpage (thanks to Jeremy for all that work) and you can listen to them there. Your responses are always welcome...either here in the comments section; or if you want to email me personally through the link on the home page.
Again, hope to see you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
Well, we're back from vacation. Apparently there were small wagers as to whether I would show up on Sunday (I guess folks thought I'd sleep in), but I fooled them all and actually managed to get there.
Last Sunday's Biblical story was about a gentile woman who came to Jesus asking for help for her daughter. As we 'unwrapped' the story we found that it was also a story about the disciples being confronted with a concrete expression of the wide gulf between their racial/religious bigotries and the love that Jesus was attempting to teach them is a cornerstone of the Kingdom of God.
This week's story from Jesus' life also takes place with a gentile. It goes a step further and occurs in a gentile territory. Jesus gets out of the boat after crossing the lake and is immediately confronted by a man with a serious mental illness. Early Hebrew material listed four characteristics of the mentally ill: walking around at night, tearing one's clothes, giving back things given to you, and hanging out in graveyards. So whether you're working out of an ancient model that say the illness is caused by 'demons', or a modern one that says there is a 'chemical imbalance', there is no argument about the resulting illness. (We'll talk some more about demons on Sunday).
What I'd like to focus on here is the fact that the 'demons' were told they could go into the herd of pigs that was nearby. In The Journeying Self Diarmuid McGann asks us what happens if we look at these pigs as a metyphor for all the things about ourselves that we project onto others. The 'demons' from this man's life are sent/projected into the pigs. That action is so destructive that the herd is destroyed.
Let me explain what I mean. I hate arrogant people. I mean I really, really hate them. They set my teeth on edge. Being in the room with one makes me want to grab them by the collar and punch them. (Some of you who know me can probably see where this is going). The problem is that the arrogance I hate in them is often my projecting my distaste/hatred of my own arrogance onto someone else. The truth is, if I've got that strong a reaction to someone....I probably need to look at what in me is pushing the intensity of this reaction. And in the case of arrogance, I am really put off by the fact that when I am feeling insecure, or scared I use my arrogance as a shield to protect me from those feelings....and from letting you see those feelings in me.
These kinds of projections are truly 'demonic' in that they are life destroying-both our lives and those of the ones we project onto. They seperate us from those we're called by Christ to love and embrace as brothers and sisters. And they block us from looking at the places in our life where we need to examine, change, and grow.
Obviously the man Jesus healed was not in a place to do that kind of self examination as long as he was roaming around the tombs and cutting himself. He needed another kind of healing first. But you and I? Maybe one of the things (not the only thing, but one of them) that this scripture is calling us to do is to 'name and claim' our 'pigs.' Where are the places that I'm blaming others, hating others, judging others that represent things in my life that I need to be exploring in prayer and meditation and bringing to Jesus for healing?
We'll be looking at some other parts of this story on Sunday. I hope you'll be able to join us. If you're away, or live somewhere else, please remember that we're posting the sermons here on our webpage (thanks to Jeremy for all that work) and you can listen to them there. Your responses are always welcome...either here in the comments section; or if you want to email me personally through the link on the home page.
Again, hope to see you Sunday.
Shalom,
Stephen
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