Reflections for the 5th Sunday in Lent 2014 - What Binds Us?

Here are the readings for the 5th Sunday in Lent:
          Ezekiel 37:1-14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:6-11; John 11:1-45.


Around here the daffodils and forsythia are up and blooming and the tulips are just starting to show their colors. These are signs of spring. Today, the sun is even out. In other parts of the North America, snow still lingers or blows as it drifts and piles up. Such is early spring.

These readings this week remind me of new life - of life breaking forth - and also point towards resurrection (although one might argue these are more about resuscitation than resurrection). But for me they also ask the question: What binds us?

What binds us? Lazareth comes out of the grave bound, and Jesus commands the crowd the "unbind him." Somehow Lazareth needs to be set free. Yet, Ezekiel seems to be binding up the dry bones with ligaments and muscles and ... The dry bones need to be bound to be free.

Such is the paradox of life: We need boundaries to be whole, and yet sometimes our boundaries cripple us. How do we set appropriate boundaries? What binds us, for good and for ill?

During this time of Lent, may we experience good bindings of compassion, love, humor, and justice.
During this time of Lent, may we experience the wisdom and courage to correct those bindings that limit us and others.

Blessed Be,

Joel

Soup on Wednesday: Food for Thought - What do we see?

With this week's Lectionary text about the Man Who Was Formally Blind, I thought some immersing facts about what we see, our don't, might be of interest.

Our 14 year-old son shared the following two bits of information. First, all eyes have blind spots for which our eyes compensate. Sometimes with greater or lesser degrees of success. I remember reading an article about watch keeping in which a former military officer shared that the military teaches people to constantly sweep with their eyes to help avoid these blind spots. This I knew. What I didn't know, is that our brains turn our eyes off (causing momentary blindness) when we sweep/turn our heads fast, to keep ourselves from becoming dizzy. This is why when watching a film in which the camera turns fast we might feel ill.

Secondly, our son shared one of the ways the internet is evolving. It is no longer just messages sent between people. Cars, garage-doors, refrigerators, ovens, furnaces, etc. are also all connected. Last year a ton of spam was sent out from a hacked ... refrigerator. Hmmm.

Because this week's text deals with people: how we see one another and the costs of living the way we do, I thought this blog post to be interesting. Did you get a little sense of "ouch," too? Our attitudes often make huge differences in what we see, and hence solutions to various problems.

One piece of information that the post didn't mention I'll relate through an antidote. While working as a college chaplain I got to know the custodian quite well. He was a recovering alcoholic who had lived on the streets for years. He was a delightful fellow with a sharp mind, a generous spirit, and a compassionate heart. One evening he told me he was going to get kicked out of the halfway house because he started drinking again. "I don't think I'm an alcoholic. When I've been on the streets, I am often dry. I can't afford to be comatose. I think my real problem is that all of this is too secure for me. I think I sabotage myself to put me back on the street." He quit the janitorial job the next afternoon.

With that in mind, I wonder how successful the apartment complex was. I wonder if we (all of us) would be better it give out abandoned boats? I think the mayor of San Francisco tried this a while back, but I can not recall the details.

Anyway, it is all food for thought.

Blessed Be,
Joel

Reflections for the 4th Sunday in Lent, 2014

The Lectionary texts for this coming Sunday are: 1 Samuel 16:1-3; Psalm 23; Ephesians 5:8-14; John 9:1-41.

What struck me today about the reading from John is how many people could not let the formally blind man be formally blind. He was not allowed to change.

The readings from John this Lentan cycle have been attributed to the Johanian community's catechism class: What does it mean to be a child of God? That is what these lesson are about. Some of these passages (like this one from John 9) might even have been acted out. So it is interesting to see how the Man Who Was Formally Blind interacts with the other characters (who may represent other "parties" or "groups."  Notice, how the more he is questioned, the more his mind is made up about what this really means? Isn't that a bit like the rest of us?

In the meantime, this time reading this lesson, I was struck by how the larger community could not the Man Who Was Formally Blind change. Maybe we really cannot go home again. Not because the place has changed, but because we have changed. And yet, don't sabbaticals and pilgrimages by their very definition entail a sense of returning, so that the larger community can benefit from what has been learned and experienced?

If so, what does that mean for us who have remained? How do we act in gracious and generous ways to those who have returned? How do we admit that we, too, have changed? Our changing maybe at a slower pace and harder to see, but we have changed none-the-less.

In this way, John's lesson isn't just about the Man Who Was Formally Blind, it is also about us. Do we allow ourselves to be changed? Do we allow ourselves to recognize where our own "blindness" is in order that we might be healed and come to see? Or, do we choose to claim to see, and remain blind? I hope it is the former, rather than the later.

Blessed Be,
Joel

Soup on Wednesday: Food for Thought - Social Obligations

With a new country to help shape, the founding fathers of the United States of America had differing views on how the country should shape itself. One of Thomas Jefferson’s concerns was to encourage a population of independent farmers/land-owners. His view was that if you had lots of independent yeomen around, the country would be stronger. Because the yeomen could support themselves, they didn’t need governmental help or interference. Therefore the government would have to convince them to undertake a particular course of action. This vision was actually quite successful for the first 100 +/- years of the United States history. In fact, this was such the case that European gentlemen would comment upon the fact that there was no real proletariat in the United States. Instead, it would boggle their minds that there would be 15 patent applications for the same type of kerosene lamp wick.

For a variety of reasons, the yeoman farmer ideal didn’t remain the actuality of the United States experience. In our time, the majority of United States citizens are not independent farmers, and those that are farming … well, when one considers the debt and loans carried to order to farm, one wonders if this is what Jefferson had in mind, too. There has been an industrialization of most of US life.

We are reminded, however, that none of us are really independent, and likely we never were. In order to get goods (whether grain, milk, cheese, wool, vegetables, etc. or manufactured items) we use roads, railways, canals (having changed the course of rivers), river systems kept navigable (drenched and marked), ports, air-planes and air-ports, etc. We then depend upon others to help us sell our goods (in some cases even make them from the raw materials). How about generating the electricity to help the entire process along.

We all stand upon the work of “the great community of saints” (maybe sinners, too?) who have helped to create the infrastructure or sell our goods or provide the services needed. It is part of our “social contract.” We have an obligation to on the one hand pass it forward and on another make the system more just.

When looking at societal justice, this is one piece of the background puzzel that is worth keeping in mind. As a result, it might be worth looking at what it really costs (to you and me) if we bumped the minimum wage up to $10.10 an hour. You might be surprised at the answer.

Boaters (and especially cruisers) like to think of themselves as independent of the shore side entanglements. And to some degree is are further separated. But who made our sails, engines, lines, hulls? Who provides the food we eat? Where do our batteries come from? What about the kerosene, propane, gas or diesel to light, cook, propel, and warm us? We, too, are interconnected to this wide web of humanity.

But I think we can also provide examples of ways to live that are gentler and more in tune with the natural world (everything from solar power to using the wind to travel to slowing down our lifestyles to making time to meet new people and old friends to not consuming as much stuff (there isn’t room to store it all anyway) to … ).

As we move through Lent, how are you mindful of your social obligations and connects? How are your trying to live a more just and compassionate life?

Blessed Be,

Joel

Reflections for the 3rd Sunday in Lent, 2014

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

The following are the readings for the coming Sunday (March 23, 2014): Exodus 17:1-7; Psalm 95; Romans 5:1-11; and John 4:5-42

This week, the reading that caught my attention was the reading from John. In this passage, John sets up the audience for a wedding scene. "What?" you say. If I said that it was high noon in the Old West, that the shop keepers had shut the doors and shutters of their businesses, and that a lone man (with a six-shooter and 10 gallon hat, of course) just stepped off the board walk to meet another man ... what are you imagining? What comes next?
This is exactly what John does with Jesus coming to a well (remember how Isaac's wife was found? How about the interactions in the Jacob narrative? What about Moses?). But then, we the audience are tricked - for there is no wedding after all. Instead, the woman who comes to the well at noon becomes the first evangelist of John's Gospel.
Four chapters later (John 8) Jesus is accused to being a Samaritan and being demon possessed. Both of these would have been treacherous accusations in Jerusalem, but Jesus only denies being demon possessed. It is as if, his staying at the well didn't just change the Samaritans there, but also changed Jesus.
For me this raises a question: What does it mean to identify with our surrounding communities enough that we see ourselves as a part of them? Are we willing to be changed by them, too?
These questions are interesting in light of today being St. Patrick's Day. For St. Patrick is seen as the patron saint of Ireland, and with all things Irish, but ... he wasn't Irish at all. Rather, as a boy he was kidnapped, sent out to herd pigs, later escaped, and then felt the call to return (after his theological education) to the country of his kidnappers to share the gospel. In the process, he "became" Irish.
I've heard many an account by cruisers that there are cherished times cruising in company with other cruising folks. But that it is when they are traveling by themselves that they often get the meet the local inhabitants, and truly appreciate the culture of the places through which they are traveling.
In light of this week's gospel lesson, where are those places and times that have called you forth to become part of a different community, to allow yourself to be changed in the process? Upon reflection, have you found them to be holy times? How do you allow yourself to be open to further encounters?

Blessed Be,
Joel

Soup on Wednesday: Food for Thought - Community Commons

Lately, I’ve been doing some thinking about the old idea of the commons, that meadow, pasture-land, woods that the people hold in common. In old English practice, this was what helped to provide for the commoners daily substance. There were the King’s/Queen’s land, the noble lands, and the commons. If George and Mary wanted a bird for dinner, they could either poach (with all those consequences) off the lands belonging to the nobility, or see what they could get from the commons. In the old colonial areas of the United States (and I would imagine Canada) there are still some commons to be found (i.e. Boston Commons). These were originally used to pasture cows and horses, etc. Now these commons serve more as a park than as a necessity for the commoners.

Out in the Western United States, we have vast tracks of land that have similar purposes (we tend to call them National Parks, National Forests and Grasslands, National Monuments, etc.). These are officially managed by the Federal government, but are watched by various groups with various ideological backgrounds (think of the Sierra Club on one side and the NRA on another). This means that there is lots of “dialogue” about how these lands should be used or not used.

But what about those places that no national organization had designated as a form of “commons”?

One of the things I found interesting regarding the Gulf of Mexico oil disaster was there was no dialogue around who “owns” or “belongs to” the Gulf. Sure, there were Op Ed pieces regarding how the spill was going to effect the fishing industry and/or wild-life recovery. But I didn’t hear any arguments regarding the fact that the Gulf is a type of commons.

In one of Patrick O’Brian’s Maturin and Aubrey series of books, O’Brian address what is at stake when a commons is fenced in and privatized, with the consequential loss of livelihood. I see the same thing happening, but with no real outcry from the people for whom this would affect the most. Lest you think this is an old issue, look at what is being reported about oil “harvesting” practices off of Santa Barbara,California.

If we are striving to live in a just world, what does it mean to have a “commons” that provides needs for all people? How do the needs of the creatures of the world taken into account? How does our own consumption of natural resources affect the commons? What are the ways in which we can live in partnership with all things?

Blessed be,
Joel

Reflections for the 2nd Sunday in Lent, 2014

I've added a link to the Revised Common Lectionary to the side bar for those interested. Here are the readings for this Sunday (16 March 2014): Genesis 12:1-4a; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3:1-17.

Like a lot of pastors I know, I, too, tend to start Monday morning off by looking at the Lectionary Readings for the coming Sunday. Even though I might have planned a thematic overview for a season, month, etc. I still tend to look once more at the upcoming readings each Monday. I revisit them. Often I see something I might have missed before, or something has happened in my own life that brings a certain aspect of the text into a different light. Through out Lent, the Monday blog post will be some reflections to help us think about a/the reading(s). Now, that I am often in the pews listening to sermons, I realize that this is a little different from the folks in the pews. The folks in the pews tend to be a week behind (or maybe the pastor is a week ahead?). The folks in the pews spend the week reflecting upon what has been preached. The pastor is reflecting on what will be preached. Here is your chance to reflect upon them for the upcoming week, too.

What struck me today in reading through the Lectionary texts was the reading from Genesis.

Genesis 12:1-4a

(12:1) Now the LORD said to Abram, "Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you.
(12:2) I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you, and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.
(12:3) I will bless those who bless you, and the one who curses you I will curse; and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed."
(12:4a) So Abram went, as the LORD had told him; and Lot went with him.

Now, I must say, having heard many a yarn around the scuttlebutt that this is a rather terse telling. There is no mention of any argument from Abram (not yet re-named Abraham). There is no sharing of how Abram felt regarding his home land, his family, his country. It brought to mind the number of sailors who sail upon the waters. The numbers have boomed sense the 60's. Why do these people (us) set out? I think there are a variety of reasons. Can you name all of the ones that apply to yourself?

Yet, it seems to me that there may be two reasons that are prominent: we cannot help ourselves; we are seeking some sort of a blessing. In the "we cannot help ourselves" compulsion there maybe a sense of calling, seeking, longing. I'm not sure how many of us would use the "in search of a blessing" language, but is it there none-the-less? We are looking for a better way of life - either upon the waters, or in the "paradise" of a distant land. In this sense perhaps these are no longer two reasons, but extensions on the same.

In the meantime, we become nomadic people, just like Abram. And in our wondering, perhaps we, too, ask ourselves the following questions:

In the journeying, how are we aware of God's presence? How do we become aware of our blessedness? How do we share that blessing with others?

Blessed Be,

Joel

Ash Wednesday Service - 2014

The following is an Ash Wednesday Service that I often use. This comes right out of the United Methodist Book of Worship and the United Methodist Hymnal. 

May you have a good and humble Ash Wednesday where ever you are.

Blessed Be

Joel

GREETING:
The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with you.
And also with you.
Bless the Lord who forgives all our sins.
God’s mercy endures forever.

OPENING PRAYER   (from the United Methodist Hymnal #353)

O God,

maker of every thing and judge of all that you have made,

from the dust of the earth you have formed us 

and from the dust of death you would raise us up.

By the redemptive power of the cross, 

create in us clean hearts

and put within us a new spirit,

that we may repent of our sins

and lead lives worthy of your calling;

through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

SCRIPTURE:
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17
Psalm 51 #785
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21

INVITATION TO THE OBSERVANCE OF LENTEN DISCIPLINE
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ:

the early Christians observed with great devotion 

the day of our Lord's passion and resurrection, 

and it became the custom of the Church that before the Easter celebration 

there should be a forty-day season of spiritual preparation.

During this season converts to the faith were prepared for Holy Baptism.

It was also a time when persons who had committed serious sins 

and had separated themselves from the community of faith 

were reconciled by penitence and forgiveness, 

and restored to participation in the life of the Church.

In this way the whole congregation was reminded 

of the mercy and forgiveness proclaimed in the gospel of Jesus Christ 

and the need we all have to renew our faith.

I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, 

to observe a holy Lent: 

by self-examination and repentance; 

by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; 

and by reading and meditation on God's Holy  Word.

To make a right beginning of repentance, 

and as a mark of our mortal nature, 

let us now kneel (or bow) before our Creator and Redeemer.

(a brief silence is kept)

THANKSGIVING OVER THE ASHES
Almighty God, you have created us out of the dust of the earth. 

Grant that these ashes may be to us a sign of our mortality and penitence,

so that we may remember that only by your gracious gift

are we given everlasting life;

through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.

IMPOSITIONS OF THE ASHES
(as people come forward, a leader dips a thumb in the ashes and makes 

a cross on the forehead of each person saying:
Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

THE LORD’S PRAYER

DISMISSAL WITH A BLESSING

Soup on Wednesday: Food for Thought - Ash Wednesday

It has long been a Lentan Discipline to give something up for Lent. I know some people who give up chocolate – boy was that hard when Valentine’s Day fell during Lent one year! This has roots in being penitent, and trying to make amends for past actions. So, one might give up those things that are having a bad impact upon ourselves or others. Often, this just means going back to doing the things once more after Easter (i.e. eating chocolate again).

But what if we took a slightly different approach? What if we focused instead upon how we wanted to relate to ourselves and others – and worked at forming practices that help make that a reality? For instance, we might ask ourselves these questions (or others like them):

• What does it mean to live a just and compassionate life?
• What dreams/desires do I have that keep reoccurring like an ocean swell? In what ways are they a “calling” from God?
•  How am I interconnected to the web of all life? How does my life show this?
• How in the living of my day to day life, are what I hold true acted out – put into practice?
• And inversely, how does the way I live my life, really point to what I really believe about things, not what I want to (or say) I believe? (For instance, one might say that generosity is very important characteristic, but when the hat is passed at work to purchase flowers to celebrate a co-workers a new baby, one doesn’t contribute.)

I do think that we are called to live holy lives, and to help create a holy society: one based on compassion tempered with justice. How we live our lives impacts matters. 

Lent provides a time and a space (if we are willing) to reflect upon our habits, and a chance to create some new ones as we move into what it means to live as Resurrection People.

Blessed Be,

Joel

PS - The Ash Wednesday Service will be posted later this afternoon. 

The Turning of the Seasons

In church yesterday a 6 year-old girl asks to hold a 6 month old boy, "May I hold him?"
"Yes," replies one of the mothers, "but you need to be sitting down."
"Why do I always have to hold babies when sitting down? I want to hold him while standing up."
"Well ... babies like to wiggle and sometimes jump out of your arms. Even my kids who are twelve and fourteen sit down to hold babies."
"Oh," the 6 year-old says thinking. "When will I be old enough to hold a baby while standing up?"
"Maybe when your twelve or thirteen."
"12 or 13! That's a long time from now!"

Indeed it is, it's an entire life-time for our sweet 6 year-old. It might even be summed up as an eternity. No wonder the years went slower when we were that age, each year was 1/6 of our life-span. To suddenly turn 36 would seem impossibly old - 6 times our life-spans! Or what about a 72 year-old grandparent?

But the more we age, the shorter the year becomes: 1/36 or our life or even 1/72 in the above examples. So, how do we mark the year?

We are on the verge of such another marker: Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, is this Wednesday. "Already?" You say. I smile as I agree with you, "Already." I've been thinking the same thing. Already, Lent is just upon us. A time of honesty, reflection, improvement?, and a time of preparing for Resurrection.

Blessed Be.

Joel