Why Not Be Polite?

19th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 27), Year B
Texts: Gen 2.18-24; Heb 1.1-4, 2.5-12; Mk 10.2-16

For the last two weeks, I’ve had this poem in my mind:

Everyone
Is God speaking.
Why not be polite and
Listen to
Him? (1)

The poet is Hafiz, who lived during the 14th century in what is now Iran. He was a practitioner of Sufism, which is a mystical tradition within Islam. What speaks to me about the poems of Hafiz—and this poem in particular—is the way he recognizes the Oneness of God in everything and everyone. Although he comes from a completely different faith tradition, he sees and testifies in his own way to the same truths seen and testified to by the Christian mystics, people like Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross. One of the ways these mystics often talked about this truth was by using the image of marriage. Teresa and John in particular spoke of the union of the Christian and Christ as a nuptial union, as marriage.

Letting Go

18th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 26), Year B
Texts: Num 11.4-6, 10-16, 24-29; Mk 9.38-50

Pastor Rob Bell begins his book Love Wins with a story about an art show at his church. Bell explains, “I had been giving a series of teachings on peacemaking, and we invited artists to display their paintings, poems, and sculptures that reflected their understanding of what it means to be a peacemaker. One woman included in her work a quote from Mahatma Gandhi, which a number of people found quite compelling. But not everyone. Someone attached a piece of paper to it. On the piece of paper was written: ‘Reality check: He’s in hell.’”

Bell asks “Really? He is? And we have confirmation of this?” There is no confirmation, of course, but we all know why the assumption was made: Ghandi wasn’t “one of us,” wasn’t a Christian, and so hadn’t been “saved.” It’s what we’ve always been taught: those who don’t “believe in Jesus” are destined for Hell.

The God Who Doesn’t Do Ladders

17th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 25), Year B
Texts: Jas 3.13-4.8; Mk 9.30-37

It just really seems like the disciples aren’t paying attention at all, doesn’t it? It’s almost like they can’t even see themselves, can’t see the total irony in the situation. Here’s Jesus teaching about his own suffering and death, and then there’s them, arguing about which one is the greatest.

There’s a good reason we get this story back-to-back with the one we read last week, the story of Peter first confessing Jesus as the Messiah, and then getting chewed out for setting his mind “not on divine things, but on human things.” Mark wants us to see the irony. He wants us to see the obvious dissonance that the disciples are arguing about something so inane in the context of Jesus’ prediction of his Passion. Even so, there’s some context we’re missing.

Dying to Save Ourselves

16th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 24), Year B
Texts: Mk 8.27-38

What Jesus says today makes me think of what I’ve been reading from Thomas Merton. Merton was one of the sources of guidance to which I turned during my sabbatical last year, and the way he reads and interprets Scripture has helped me to think of things on a whole new level.

Healing Jesus

15th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 23), Year B
Texts: Jas 2.1-17; Mk 7.24-37

Remember that last week, Jesus was castigating the Pharisees for the way they placed human traditions above God’s commandments. He told them, “There is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.” In the house, Jesus explains this more fully to his disciples, and after that, they leave so Jesus can take a little break.

From the story, we can tell that he’s trying to get away. By away, in this case, he means away from Jewish territory, away from work. He heads north, to the city of Tyre, and that is where he stops, just outside of Galilee.

Hothead

14th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 22), Year B
Texts: Jas 1.17-27; Mk 7.1-8, 14-23

Let me preface this story by saying that I truly and genuinely love my father-in-law. He’s a kind and generous man, and I am grateful to know him. We have different ideas about some things, but we enjoy debating politics together. Even in our disagreement, I love and respect him. Let me also preface this story by saying that our house does not have an air conditioner.

It was during the freak, record-breaking heatwave in June, late at night. I don’t stay up late much anymore, but Stephanie and I were both up late because it was so hot and we couldn’t sleep, and also to keep the house opened up to the cool night air for as long as possible before locking up for the night. I was laying in the hammock in our backyard, stripped down to my shorts, still uncomfortably warm in the 80+ degree heat, at midnight, in June, and thinking as I stared into the inky sky that this is going to become more and more normal. I was hot, and I was tired, and I was unable to sleep, and I got angry. I got angry at my father-in-law.

Splash Mountain

13th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 21), Year B
Texts: Josh 24.1-2a, 14-18; Jn 6.56-69

When I was 9, my family took a trip to Disneyland. It was the first time my little sister or I had ever flown on a plane. In fact, aside from a family trip to Fargo for my aunt’s wedding, it was only the second time either of us had been outside of Montana. We went in the off-season, which was great, because the lines were practically non-existent. While the locals were all bundled up against the cold, there we were in our shorts and t-shirts, loving the beautiful warm weather.

I remember being so excited about all the rides. I had never been to a theme park before, but I had always wanted to ride rollercoasters. At Disneyland, I rode every one I could; but my favorite was Splash Mountain. I went on it three times, once with my dad and twice with my mom. I couldn’t go with both of them at the same time because my sister, who was 6 at the time, was afraid of the dark, and she refused to get on the ride because there were a few moments where it went through a darkened tunnel.

The Yuck Factor

12th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 20), Year B
Texts: Prov 9.1-6; Eph 5.15-20; Jn 6.51-59

As we continue through the Bread of Life Sundays, reading about what happened after Jesus multiplied the loaves, we come to what I like to think of “Sandwich Sunday,” because this is where we get to the meat of the story. Literally. Suddenly Jesus switches from talking about loaves and bread to very graphically inviting people to eat his flesh and drink his blood. If you are thinking that this sounds very weird and disturbing, you’re not alone.

Right Under Our Noses

11th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 19), Year B
Texts: 1 Kg 19.4-8; Jn 6.35-51

As we’ve been exploring this story, we’ve been talking about hunger. This is a story about hungry people looking for something to fill them up. Last week, I said that perhaps one of the most important things we can do is to learn to sit with that hunger and trust it, because if we try to simply fill it to quickly, we’ll end up trying to fill it with things that ultimately leave us empty.

If you look closely at this story, you can see this happening. The crowds first ask Jesus what they need to do to perform the works of God, then ask him what works he is going to perform so they can believe him. Instead of answering either of these questions, Jesus instead talks about the work God has done, the work of sending him, the true bread from heaven. When they ask Jesus to give them this bread, he instead talks about what the Parent has given him.

Do you see the theme here? The crowds are looking for the answer they are expecting, the box to check off or the pill to take so that they can be saved or be filled or whatever it is they think they are hungry for; but Jesus instead keeps pointing to God. The crowds come looking to Jesus because they are hungry. They are so hungry that they fail to see that the bread from heaven, given for the life of the world, has already been provided.

More Than Loaves

10th Sunday after Pentecost (Lectionary 18), Year B
Texts: Ex 16.2-4, 9-15; Jn 6.22-35

As we journey through these 5 Bread of Life Sundays this year, I am particularly interested in where we as the Church are seeking to be fed, and in how God is feeding us. Our congregation has just come out of a period of fasting from corporate worship, as well as from many of the other normal habits of non-pandemic life. We are hungry to get back to “normal.” Now that we are once again able to begin gathering in person, I know there are those among us who are feeling truly fed for the first time in a long time.

I’m one of those people. I’ve missed this assembly, and I’ve missed doing ministry in the physical presence of the people for whom I’m doing it. I’ve missed being able to connect with you all in the little ways that we haven’t been able to for the last 16 months. I’ve only recently begun to realize that it was harder on me than I ever realized.