John 1:43-51
"Behold, truly an Israelite. The Lord's greeting presupposes that Nathanael had gone under the fig-tree to meditate. While there he had been wrestling with God. This new movement, this new teacher – are they to be welcomed as from God?...and so long ago Jacob the supplanter had wrestled with God and had one the new name Israel (Genesis 32:24-29). The Lord hails this son of Israel as one in whom the Jacob-element of guile is not to be found.
"Whence thou knowest me? How can you so intimately enter into my secret thoughts?
"Before Philip called thee. My sympathy had reached you before your friend broke in with the news that so strangely chimed in with your thoughts."*
With what, or who, are you wrestling with in your life? Might it really be Jesus with whom you are wrestling? If so, rejoice, for that is how close your Lord and Savior is to you.
*From Readings in St. John's Gospel, by Archbishop William Temple
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The Daily Office: John 1:29-42
John 1:29-42
The first thing Andrew did was to find his brother Simon and tell him, "We have found the Messiah" (that is, the Christ). And he brought him to Jesus. Jesus looked at him and said, "You are Simon son of John. You will be called Cephas" (which, when translated, is Peter). (John 1:41-42)
"He findeth first his own brother" and so became the first missionary. We do not know much about Andrew; but we know a great deal about his brother, and he was Andrew's convert. Who shall say that Peter did more for His Lord than Andrew who brought Peter to Him? It is ever so. We never know who is doing the greatest work for God. Here is a man who holds great office in the Church and preaches to multitudes; yet at the end, all he has done is to keep things from falling back. And there is a girl, poor and uneducated, of whom no one ever thinks; but because she is loving and devout she sows the seed of life in a child entrusted to her care who grows up to be a missionary pioneer, or Christian statesman, or profound theologian – shaping the history of nations or the thought of generations. Andrew "findeth his own brother"; perhaps it is as great a service to the Church as ever any man did.
From Readings in St. John's Gospel, by Archbishop William Temple
The first thing Andrew did was to find his brother Simon and tell him, "We have found the Messiah" (that is, the Christ). And he brought him to Jesus. Jesus looked at him and said, "You are Simon son of John. You will be called Cephas" (which, when translated, is Peter). (John 1:41-42)
"He findeth first his own brother" and so became the first missionary. We do not know much about Andrew; but we know a great deal about his brother, and he was Andrew's convert. Who shall say that Peter did more for His Lord than Andrew who brought Peter to Him? It is ever so. We never know who is doing the greatest work for God. Here is a man who holds great office in the Church and preaches to multitudes; yet at the end, all he has done is to keep things from falling back. And there is a girl, poor and uneducated, of whom no one ever thinks; but because she is loving and devout she sows the seed of life in a child entrusted to her care who grows up to be a missionary pioneer, or Christian statesman, or profound theologian – shaping the history of nations or the thought of generations. Andrew "findeth his own brother"; perhaps it is as great a service to the Church as ever any man did.
From Readings in St. John's Gospel, by Archbishop William Temple
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
The Daily Office: John 1:19-28
This is the testimony of John, when the Jews sent to him priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, "Who are you?" And he confessed and did not deny, but confessed, "I am not the Christ." They asked him, "What then ? Are you Elijah?" And he said, "I am not." "Are you the Prophet ?" And he answered, "No." (John 1:19-21)
"[John] is impatient at these enquiries concerning his personality. We see his growing irritation in the increasing abruptness of his replies. 'I am not the Christ'; 'I am not'; 'No.' It is not who he is, but what he says that matters. He is a voice...
"John is here the type of all Christian witness…If ever our witness begins to be about ourselves or to make ourselves very prominent something is going wrong with it. We may mention our own experience – 'O come hither and hearken all ye that fear God and I will tell you what he hath done for my soul' – but only a s a means of pointing men to Christ. It is not ourselves but our witness to Him for which we want to claim attention."
From Readings in St. John's Gospel, by Archbishop William Temple
"[John] is impatient at these enquiries concerning his personality. We see his growing irritation in the increasing abruptness of his replies. 'I am not the Christ'; 'I am not'; 'No.' It is not who he is, but what he says that matters. He is a voice...
"John is here the type of all Christian witness…If ever our witness begins to be about ourselves or to make ourselves very prominent something is going wrong with it. We may mention our own experience – 'O come hither and hearken all ye that fear God and I will tell you what he hath done for my soul' – but only a s a means of pointing men to Christ. It is not ourselves but our witness to Him for which we want to claim attention."
From Readings in St. John's Gospel, by Archbishop William Temple
Monday, August 2, 2010
The Daily Office: John 1:1-18
"What came to be in it [the Word] was Life, and the Life was the light of men, and the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness did not absorb it" (John 1:4-5)
Today, the Daily Office Lectionary begins to take us through the Gospel of John. As we read through John's Gospel, I'm going to offer the thoughts of William Temple, who was the Archbishop of Canterbury during the Second World War. He wrote my favorite commentary on John's Gospel. Unfortunately, it appears to be out of print. But I'm glad to share at least a few of his insights. Here's some of what he wrote on the verses quoted above.
"Imagine yourself standing on some headland in a dark night. At the foot of the headland is a lighthouse or beacon, not casting rays on every side, but throwing one bar of light through the darkness…The divine light shines through the darkness of the world, cleaving it, but neither dispelling it nor quenched by it…The darkness in no sense at all received the light; yet the light shone still undimmed…Take any moment of history and you find light piercing unillumined darkness…The company of those who stand in the beam of light by which the path of true progress for that time is discerned is always small."
Small? Perhaps. But if you're reading this today, then we stand together.
Today, the Daily Office Lectionary begins to take us through the Gospel of John. As we read through John's Gospel, I'm going to offer the thoughts of William Temple, who was the Archbishop of Canterbury during the Second World War. He wrote my favorite commentary on John's Gospel. Unfortunately, it appears to be out of print. But I'm glad to share at least a few of his insights. Here's some of what he wrote on the verses quoted above.
"Imagine yourself standing on some headland in a dark night. At the foot of the headland is a lighthouse or beacon, not casting rays on every side, but throwing one bar of light through the darkness…The divine light shines through the darkness of the world, cleaving it, but neither dispelling it nor quenched by it…The darkness in no sense at all received the light; yet the light shone still undimmed…Take any moment of history and you find light piercing unillumined darkness…The company of those who stand in the beam of light by which the path of true progress for that time is discerned is always small."
Small? Perhaps. But if you're reading this today, then we stand together.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Remembering Even When it Hurts: Proper 13: Hosea 11
When my son was about 7, he had the habit of not locking up his bicycle when he went to see one of his friends. One day, when I noticed his unlocked bike at a friend's apartment, I decided to teach him a lesson. I took his bike back to our apartment. A few minutes later, I came back outside and saw him wailing, literally wailing. To this day, I remember the stab I felt in my heart. Why should I have put myself, my son's father, in the place of a thief just to teach him a lesson? Some years later, I wrote him a letter while he and his church youth group were in Scotland on a pilgrimage. In that letter, I brought up my worst moment as a parent, and asked for his forgiveness. When his plane landed, and we all hugged and made our way home, he said that, actually, he had forgotten the incident.Of course, some of the things he does remember about our relationship are things that I have forgotten. That's how it always seems with human parents and human children. An offhand comment by a parent about money lingers on in the child who remains fearful about money long after the offhand remark that sparked it. Selective memory, on both sides, is a powerful and sometimes destructive force in the parent-child relationship.
But the God revealed through the prophet Hosea has no selective memory. God remembers everything, which explains the agony that God feels in his heart. "When Israel was a child, I loved him like a child, and called him out of Egypt." God saw a child reduced to back-breaking slavery, a child whose only value to his Egyptian owner was the use that could be made of him, until worn down, that slave child would be replaced by another slave child seized by the Egyptian empire. And so God the loving Father called this child out of Egypt. And like a mother who encourages her toddler, "It was I who taught Israel to walk. It was I who pampered them, sweeping my children up into my arms."
But on this day, God is suffering from a broken heart. For his child has much more than a selective memory. Israel has completely forgotten the father/mother who gave him his life: "The more I called them, the further away they went. They offered their sacrifices to Baal, whom they thought would give them rain. And they burned incense to carved images of their own making and called them gods." This is what Hosea saw in the northern kingdom of Israel, where 10 of the 12 tribes of Israel lived. He saw that the people of the LORD had turned away from the God who had brought them out of Egypt. Instead, they were trying to appease the local gods of the earth, the rain, the crops, as though enough sacrifices to them would give them a good harvest in the spring.
And rather than trusting in the LORD for their security, Israel kept trying to appease the bigger, more powerful empires of the region: Assyria to the north, Egypt to the south. Idolatry at home, lack of trust in the LORD's protection abroad: The LORD kept calling, and his children kept running. So why not leave them to their fate? Let the sword rage against the cities of Israel, break down the gates of their fortresses and devour their children. Let the cities of Israel be like Admah and Zeboiim, whose destruction was as total as that of Sodom and Gomorrah. After all, actions must have consequences. Injustice must be punished, or else justice is a meaningless word, and the LORD who claims to be the world's righteous judge might as well admit that his justice has no power to back it up.
God seems pretty committed to seeing his justice done. But suddenly, the sword reaches his heart. "How can I give you up, O Ephraim? How can I surrender you, O Israel? My heart recoils at the thought of your destruction. Yes, my anger burns within me. But at the same time, compassion warms my heart with the memories of better days, and the hope that they will yet return." What are we to make of a God who, like every other parent, can't seem to figure out whether to hug his child or throttle them? Isn't God supposed to be beyond human passions? If God can be so hurt by our actions, then how can God be all-powerful?
"I will not execute my burning anger," God says, precisely because, "I am God, and not human, The Holy One among you." Because God is all-powerful, he is not bound by the man-made rule of an eye for an eye. Because God is all-knowing, his love is never blinded by anger. God will never forget the love he has invested in us. And looking forward to the future, God will always leave the door open to forgiveness, redemption and new life. To us sinners standing under judgment, God's grace may sometimes sound like the roar of a lion as we face the truth of ourselves and our sin. But the Lion will not devour us.
What beautiful images Hosea was inspired to give us of our God. There's just one complication. Perhaps in Hosea's lifetime, certainly not long after his inspired prophesying, the worst that could happen did happen. Assyria swept down into Israel, brought the northern kingdom to an end, and created the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel. Everything that God seems to say he wouldn't do ended up happening. Did God forget them? What hope of return can there be for the Lost? Unless they were never really lost.
The public TV science series NOVA once had a program on the Ten Lost Tribes. From southern Africa to Japan, you find peoples who claim to be descended from the Lost Tribes. They have customs that are unlike their African or Asian neighbors, but are consistent with the customs of Israel. Unlike their polytheistic neighbors, they worship one God. In the case of the Lemba tribe in Zimbabwe, DNA testing actually links them to the Jewish people. And so have the scattered children of Israel carried in their memories their faith in the one God, the LORD, who has always remembered his children.
Closer to home, our own children have scattered, or will do so eventually, of their own accord. But the children of Israel carried their God in their memories, and our children will carry the best parts of us in their memories. Kingdoms will crumble and fall. But wherever God calls us, we take with us the best of what God has given us. And we look forward in hope and anticipation. With a roar, our God calls us home, as he called the Lost Tribes, to homes they could never have imagined on their own; but homes they are. And so, let us go with trembling in the direction from which the roar comes. None of us knows what that home looks like. But the God, who taught us to walk together in faith, knows what our home looks like. And what a beautiful home it will be.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
St. James Major, Apostle
"Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave--just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Matthew 20:26-28)July 25, is the feast day of the Apostle James, often referred to as “Major” to distinguish him from the other James among the Twelve, the “son of Alphaeus,” who is known as “James the Minor.” It is also clear from the Gospel that Peter, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, held a special place among the Twelve. All three were present with Jesus at his raising of Jairus’s daughter, Jesus’s Transfiguration, and at Gethsemane.
Jesus nicknamed James and John, “Boanerges,” literally, “Sons of Thunder.” And they earned that nickname. Perhaps it was that zeal that led to James’s beheading by King Herod. As he went to his death, I’m sure that James remembered what his mother had asked of Jesus on his and John’s behalf. She asked that her sons sit at Jesus’s right and left when he came in “glory.” What Jesus promised was that they would share his cup and baptism, in other words, his death.
James was passionate in his desire for "success." He was driven to succeed in his ministry as a disciple of Jesus; just as a businessman is driven to control the market for his product or service, or a mega-church pastor is driven to gain enough members to fill the arena. And with James's passion for success came the desire for the rewards associated with that success, witness his mother's pleading. And yet, his greatest mark of success was that James became the first of the Twelve to bear witness to the risen Christ with his life. That's what it means to be a "martyr," and James was the first of the Twelve to claim that exalted title.
And how ironic, or full of grace, that Jesus held so closer to himself someone so driven by the need for "success." Jesus does not want us to sit back in sloth or fear and presume that God's grace will work everything out. Jesus wants active, enterprising partners in his church. There is nothing wrong with wanting success for Jesus's project of spreading the Good News.
But ultimately, God does have a different measure of success. It is not how much money you make, or how big your house is. It isn't how many pledging members you have, or how big the church's endowment is. As Jesus says in the Gospel reading for today, the divine measure for success is: How many have you served, and how well have you served them? May we all follow James, the successful witness.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Praying as Jesus Prayed: Proper 12
"One of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray.'" (Luke 11:1)
When I was a child, I asked my parents for something. I don't remember what it was, but it must have been really important; because I remember being rather upset when, after my repeated pleas, they finally said, "You need that like you need a hole in the head!" My begging had come to nothing. But smart-aleck that I was, I still knew how to get the last word. For weeks afterward, I would occasionally cry out, "I want a hole in the head!"
You might also call me "shameless." And that's also what you really should call the "persistent" friend in Jesus's parable. Last week, we heard of the importance of showing hospitality. That's what's going on in this parable. Your neighbor needs bread for his friend who has just shown up at his door with no warning. Of course, it's midnight, and who wants to get up from a good night's sleep; and wake up the rest of your family in your small house while you light a candle and make noise looking for food? So you say, "C'mon. Can't they wait to eat till morning?" But those travelers have been walking all day and half the night. They're hungry, and their host can't let them down. So, he keeps knocking, and knocking, and knocking. Then he starts shouting. And now the rest of the neighborhood is being woken up. At first, they're yelling at the host to shut up. But that guy is shameless. And soon, the neighbors are yelling at you to get up and give the guy what he wants.
It is much more than "persistence" that Jesus is talking about here when he says, "Ask, and it will be given you…knock, and it will be opened to you." The attitude toward prayer that Jesus seems to commend here isn't "persistence;" it's "shamelessness. We should take every desire, every fear, every hope, every wish, every resentment, and get in God's face about it, and not get out of his face until God answers our prayer.
Does that sound like the most mature approach to prayer on our part? For that matter, how does God sound in all this: like a grumpy, tired old man that you have to bug until he finally pays attention to you? Is this really how prayer is supposed to work? Well, maybe sometimes that's where we are. Maybe sometimes we're so sad, so grief-stricken, or so angry, that all we can say to God is: "How dare you let this happen. I want to know why, and I demand an answer from you." And maybe we have to say that, day after day. Maybe, that's the only prayer to God that we can make: a shameless request and search for an answer to our grief and our anger.
Of course, was God's Son any less shameless when he threw himself to the ground and pleaded, "Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me"? And note how our Gospel began today: "He was praying in a certain place." The Gospels tell us what Jesus did and said. Hey don't try to analyze his inner being that way modern biographies do. So, we really don't know how the mind of God's son, incarnated as a human being, worked. Clearly, he was able to discern God's will in a way that we can't even imagine. But was it some sort of telepathic communication where God's thoughts just flowed into Jesus's brain? Then why did even Jesus Christ need to go to certain quiet places, so that a quiet space in his mind and heart could be opened, so that he could hear God's voice amid all the distractions of this world? Why did even Jesus beg for another answer to his prayer that dark Thursday night in Gethsemane?
When Jesus teaches his disciples to pray, he's not setting himself on a lofty pedestal of serene contemplation that is unreachable for us. If we have to start at the level of shameless pestering or fist-shaking, know that we are praying as Jesus prayed, at least once. When we struggle to make the time and space to be in silence, know that we are praying as Jesus did, much more than once. So, to reach the top of the ladder of praying as Jesus prayed is not impossible. Jesus is with us at the baby steps of shamelessness. And as we begin to go deeper, we might begin to ask a different question than why did God let this happen. We might begin to ask, why am I so angry or sad or fearful? What is it that really pushes my button, and why? Sometimes, the first step to praying as Jesus prayed is to look at ourselves. If prayer is communication with God, sometimes it may be necessary to communicate with ourselves first.
Having reached that step of the ladder, we are even closer to praying as Jesus prayed. For in that communication with ourselves, we find more understanding. And in that understanding, we will find that there is less of our grief, our fear and anger. And there is more room in our hearts for the hopes and griefs of others. And when we have made that room, then we will be able to pray in the words that Jesus has taught us in today's Gospel, "Father…your kingdom come." A kingdom in which all people are fed in their bodies and souls with the love of God.
Never be ashamed of your anger or your sadness. Shamelessly bring your complaints before God. Do not fear to examine those darker emotions; for with that examination comes understanding, and an open heart to the kingdom of God, and all our brothers and sisters in that kingdom. Lord, teach us to pray.
When I was a child, I asked my parents for something. I don't remember what it was, but it must have been really important; because I remember being rather upset when, after my repeated pleas, they finally said, "You need that like you need a hole in the head!" My begging had come to nothing. But smart-aleck that I was, I still knew how to get the last word. For weeks afterward, I would occasionally cry out, "I want a hole in the head!"
You might also call me "shameless." And that's also what you really should call the "persistent" friend in Jesus's parable. Last week, we heard of the importance of showing hospitality. That's what's going on in this parable. Your neighbor needs bread for his friend who has just shown up at his door with no warning. Of course, it's midnight, and who wants to get up from a good night's sleep; and wake up the rest of your family in your small house while you light a candle and make noise looking for food? So you say, "C'mon. Can't they wait to eat till morning?" But those travelers have been walking all day and half the night. They're hungry, and their host can't let them down. So, he keeps knocking, and knocking, and knocking. Then he starts shouting. And now the rest of the neighborhood is being woken up. At first, they're yelling at the host to shut up. But that guy is shameless. And soon, the neighbors are yelling at you to get up and give the guy what he wants.
It is much more than "persistence" that Jesus is talking about here when he says, "Ask, and it will be given you…knock, and it will be opened to you." The attitude toward prayer that Jesus seems to commend here isn't "persistence;" it's "shamelessness. We should take every desire, every fear, every hope, every wish, every resentment, and get in God's face about it, and not get out of his face until God answers our prayer.
Does that sound like the most mature approach to prayer on our part? For that matter, how does God sound in all this: like a grumpy, tired old man that you have to bug until he finally pays attention to you? Is this really how prayer is supposed to work? Well, maybe sometimes that's where we are. Maybe sometimes we're so sad, so grief-stricken, or so angry, that all we can say to God is: "How dare you let this happen. I want to know why, and I demand an answer from you." And maybe we have to say that, day after day. Maybe, that's the only prayer to God that we can make: a shameless request and search for an answer to our grief and our anger.
Of course, was God's Son any less shameless when he threw himself to the ground and pleaded, "Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me"? And note how our Gospel began today: "He was praying in a certain place." The Gospels tell us what Jesus did and said. Hey don't try to analyze his inner being that way modern biographies do. So, we really don't know how the mind of God's son, incarnated as a human being, worked. Clearly, he was able to discern God's will in a way that we can't even imagine. But was it some sort of telepathic communication where God's thoughts just flowed into Jesus's brain? Then why did even Jesus Christ need to go to certain quiet places, so that a quiet space in his mind and heart could be opened, so that he could hear God's voice amid all the distractions of this world? Why did even Jesus beg for another answer to his prayer that dark Thursday night in Gethsemane?
When Jesus teaches his disciples to pray, he's not setting himself on a lofty pedestal of serene contemplation that is unreachable for us. If we have to start at the level of shameless pestering or fist-shaking, know that we are praying as Jesus prayed, at least once. When we struggle to make the time and space to be in silence, know that we are praying as Jesus did, much more than once. So, to reach the top of the ladder of praying as Jesus prayed is not impossible. Jesus is with us at the baby steps of shamelessness. And as we begin to go deeper, we might begin to ask a different question than why did God let this happen. We might begin to ask, why am I so angry or sad or fearful? What is it that really pushes my button, and why? Sometimes, the first step to praying as Jesus prayed is to look at ourselves. If prayer is communication with God, sometimes it may be necessary to communicate with ourselves first.
Having reached that step of the ladder, we are even closer to praying as Jesus prayed. For in that communication with ourselves, we find more understanding. And in that understanding, we will find that there is less of our grief, our fear and anger. And there is more room in our hearts for the hopes and griefs of others. And when we have made that room, then we will be able to pray in the words that Jesus has taught us in today's Gospel, "Father…your kingdom come." A kingdom in which all people are fed in their bodies and souls with the love of God.
Never be ashamed of your anger or your sadness. Shamelessly bring your complaints before God. Do not fear to examine those darker emotions; for with that examination comes understanding, and an open heart to the kingdom of God, and all our brothers and sisters in that kingdom. Lord, teach us to pray.
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