I can't think of any time Jesus said, "...just kidding" or "gotcha!" It seems though that a lot of our knowledge and theology is based on both "just kidding" and yea verily, even "gotcha!" You can also throw in, "what Jesus REALLY meant..." followed by a description that serves as a projection of our own sensibilities.
A couple weeks ago I heard somebody explain the wedding feast at Cana. This was Jesus' first public, recorded miracle. The explanation they gave was notable for the complete absence of apologies given for the fact that Jesus created wine. The guy telling the story said, "Do you realize that these people had been drinking for the better part of a week? And that after that, Jesus created something over 130 GALLONS of wine?? What are we to conclude from this? Well, at least one thing for sure: Jesus likes a party!" (And if you've heard that the wine that people drank back then was really cut with water, please be advised that there is exactly zero serious scholarship to support that premise.)
I'm going to second the "Jesus likes a party" part as being the primary point of that miracle. There are other things going on as well; being around Jesus seemed to be a pretty full experience. However, I think the major point there is that he likes to have fun himself and he REALLY likes to see other people having fun and he LOVES it when everyone, including him, is having fun together.
If time permits, read some of the Leviticus laws on sacrifice. It would seem that God really enjoys a good barbecue as well. Note how many times the burnt offerings are described as a "sweet smelling savor." Pay attention to how many times at the end of this or that cycle of sacrifices everyone sits down and eats the sacrifice. I did not catch this until a very few years ago. God was inviting his kids to a party even back then. And just as an aside, I think when you consider the dogma and ritualistic thing this became, it's easy to understand how things got and continue to get confused.
We get confused sometimes about what was said in the Bible. And too often we don't get confused at all; we just don't like what we read so we ignore it or make up theology about it. Or maybe even the worst case is that we like to project onto Jesus things that make us comfortable. Would Jesus ever let us suffer for our own good or maybe for the good of others? If you have a knee jerk reaction to that, saying "No, never!" consider how the Apostles lived and died. I don't think we were made for comfy chairs.
I think we're prone to hearts and minds that wander from this reality because we don't really believe what the bible says about God's Spirit coming to live in us when we ask him to...and we REALLY like being comfortable and completely unchallenged. We tend to think of that as an experience, maybe as a ritual or maybe as just an intellectual concept wrapped in a nice metaphor, depending on our theology. We sure don't seem to take it seriously for the relationship that it is.
Part of the good news in this though is that God gets how we are...which makes sense since he made us. He's pretty patient when we don't talk to him for a long time and he doesn't get mad when we only call on him when we're in a bad way. I should throw in "usually" a place or two in that sentence, because sometimes he can get a little angry with us...well at least I can think of few times he's been unhappy with me. My experience of his "unhappy" is not particularly pleasant but I will say that I'd rather be spoken to harshly by God than to be complimented or praised by anyone else. I don't think I've ever seen him really mad and he does get that way. Remember, Jesus often got angry with the Pharisees and when the God of the Old Testament got going he could be pretty fierce.
I conclude all of the above from two facts. One is biblical record. The other is my experience of God which is completely consistent with point one. We really don't need more than these two. I think the problem is we often don't embrace both or either of them.
I have every confidence that we will go on projecting on to God our preferences and desires. Whether that's a teetotaling God of prohibitions, a God of grace extending to bacchanalia or a systematic system of systemology, we'll do our level best to shove him into an image that we find comfortable and comforting. However, God is a patient, he is real and he is waiting. And he is in ridiculous love with us. If we stay with it, he will not let us not slip away.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
My Better Half
A week or so ago Christy (my wife, aka my better half) was working the night shift at the school where she works. In this case, "the night shift" involved fielding parent questions and manually ringing the school bells all in support of Back To School Night. Steve the principal came in and we all chatted a bit.
In the middle of our gab fest, a family that had recently returned from a trip to South America came in with a present for Steve. The present was the stylized crucifix pictured above. We were all pretty taken by it. For my part, I loved the image but I just couldn't think quite why. In the course of our back and forth, someone said, "You should write about this." I remember thinking at that moment, "That's a great idea but what do I say besides, 'Hey look! This is REALLY COOL!'"
Out loud I said something like, "I like it but I just don't know quite why." I think it was Christy (although I'll give Steve credit if he argues the point) that said something about it being an invitation to put yourself in the sculpture. That wasn't exactly what was said but what it morphed into when I'd thought about it a little bit.
It is true of course that this is what we're invited into, both the suffering and the triumph of it. There's systematic theology about the cross ad nauseum. The best thing about systematic theology is of course way it evaporates into smoke in presence of the fire of life. In the moment you say "OUCH" in response to what you're facing and suffering, you stop entertaining yourself with logical structures and rules and start instead looking for relationship and help from the one who spoke you into existence. "Help dad. I'm hurt. I'm scared." In that moment, systematic theology burns away like the old flash paper bookies and other miscreants used to keep their records on. When the police would come in, they'd just touch it with a cigarette and POOF...all evidence of bad behavior was gone.
Of course, this is also true with human relationships. We complete each other to the point that we are eventually after time in relationship to be found in each other. I've quoted John Donne here before but his "...no man is an island unto himself..." comes immediately to mind as does "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee." In the bible, this idea is found in an amazing verse, Eph 4:16, quoted here in King James to roughly match Donne above:
"16From whom the whole body fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of itself in love."
At Back to School Night a family came in with a gift that moved everyone there. We all discussed what the gift was and meant, coming at once to consensus while at the same time forming our own, unique ideas on the subject. In the time since, I've gotten to write it all down so we can all remember it and share it with others. And now they too can appreciate the piece as well as a bit of the moment of discovery.
We really all do share each others lives. It's not at all something we do merely if we choose to. It's what we are, and what happens regardless of contrary intent. Consider that even the sudden absence of someone creates anything from pain, to longing, to relief to all of these and more at once.
And all of this is what is carried at once in the action and message of the cross. Jesus doesn't aspire to being a consistent logic lesson. He wants to share our lives. He wants to complete us even as he uses each of us to complete each other. Jesus has made himself completely vulnerable to us both at the time of the cross and I would also submit, in all the time since. He asks for that back. He asks us to join him on the cross and his invitation to us is in the perfect present tense; it is and will be constantly asked and constantly answered. We don't just answer once and move on. We must answer with the direction and course of our lives.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
"I refuse that order..."
The run up the 10th anniversary of 9/11 has been what such things have become in the last few years, a finite series of events being chewed over by an apparently infinite number of media personalities, TV shows, web casts, radio shows and probably a dozen other things I'm leaving out. I'm not sad or upset that we remember. I am however tired of the noise.
As a nation, we seem to be developing a knack for monuments. The Vietnam memorial, with it's large dark presence reflecting those who look upon through the names of those that died in the conflict is astonishing. As we look into the darkness of that memory, we see ourselves distorted through the names of those who gave us the right and ability to ponder what it meant and what it means.
The new monument at Ground Zero is of similar character. This monument is an excavated area surrounded by black stone with the names of the deceased upon it. Water flows over the stone into the excavated area to create a waterfall. Thus, this artificially created void presents us with the void created in each of us by the loss of 3000 souls. The water flows over it all just as life washes over us and carries us along.
I only want to make sure that one brief thing does not get lost in the TV, the radio, the speeches of politicians or even in the very fine monument. I want to re-tell the story of Pat Brown.
Pat was a fireman that died in the North Tower on 9/11. Just a few minutes before the North Tower collapsed, Pat's chief ordered him out of the building. Pat, from transcripts gleaned from several witnesses spoke this into his radio in response
There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
As a nation, we seem to be developing a knack for monuments. The Vietnam memorial, with it's large dark presence reflecting those who look upon through the names of those that died in the conflict is astonishing. As we look into the darkness of that memory, we see ourselves distorted through the names of those who gave us the right and ability to ponder what it meant and what it means.
The new monument at Ground Zero is of similar character. This monument is an excavated area surrounded by black stone with the names of the deceased upon it. Water flows over the stone into the excavated area to create a waterfall. Thus, this artificially created void presents us with the void created in each of us by the loss of 3000 souls. The water flows over it all just as life washes over us and carries us along.
I only want to make sure that one brief thing does not get lost in the TV, the radio, the speeches of politicians or even in the very fine monument. I want to re-tell the story of Pat Brown.
Pat was a fireman that died in the North Tower on 9/11. Just a few minutes before the North Tower collapsed, Pat's chief ordered him out of the building. Pat, from transcripts gleaned from several witnesses spoke this into his radio in response
There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
Monday, September 5, 2011
People of the Bubble
The morning TV shows are an archetype in a lot of ways of all TV. That is, they're fast moving, shiny, noisy and pretty nearly completely vacuous. I'm willing to stand corrected as to "completely" by those who like "educational" TV, as long as it's not the ironically named Learning Channel - which used to carry John and Kate Plus Eight.
This morning, my wife and I were watching a couple different morning shows using the commercial avoidance mechanism (aka. the remote control). Sprinkled in with the cooking, burps of news and a weepy feature or two, were the daily shots of the hosts out on the street with "The People." Most days, some of the People of the Street hold up signs. From time to time they get to meet Mr. Microphone in order to talk about what their sign means, say where they're from and "meet" Matt Lauer et al. In the middle of this, my wife asked a question about the hosts. "I wonder what bubble those people live in?"
That is an excellent question. She comes up with excellent questions all the time. It's one of my favorite things about her...except maybe when the questions are about me but that's a different blog entry.
I was thinking about it while I was watching all the noise ("watching the noise," huh, guess I wasn't paying much attention). The thought crawled into my brain that they live in the same kind of bubble we all do. If there's a difference, I think it's that there's more shiny and reflective stuff on the inside of their bubbles than for People of the Street. There might even be a ratio or proportion that says that the more people you have looking at you, the harder it is to see out of your own bubble.
Still though, all bubbles are shiny enough on the inside. So much so that sometimes their reflection makes it hard to see other people. Bubbles seem to reflect back sound as well so that way too often, we hear ourselves quite clearly and others only through the muffling of both their bubbles as well as our own.
The great thing about this kind of a bubble is that when it is ignored consistently, it goes away. Ignoring your bubble is difficult because it's shiny and distracting and can even be protective.
At another point this morning, my wife muted the Bubble People and read to me from a book she's reading. The book is "A Testament of Devotion" by Thomas Kelly. It was published in 1941. At that time of course, the world minus the United States had gone to war and we were soon to follow. Even with 24/7 media constantly feeding our paranoia and countless rumors of medical, social and political anger and angst, I believe 1941 was a more fundamentally frightening time than the present. Curiously, our ancestors of that time did not seem to exhibit the quaking fears and self loathing that we tend toward today. Maybe this was because they didn't have nearly as many tools to help them shiny up the inside of their bubbles. They were after all, only slowly emerging from The Great Depression. They were in many cases, too busy staying alive to worry much about their bubbles.
Partially no doubt in response to the times though, Kelly was writing on the good, even extreme good that's to be found in suffering. His thoughts are beautiful and complex and do not reduce well. However, I did hear something in them to do with bubbles.
It seems that there is something that can encourage us and even compel us to ignore our own bubbles, even when those bubbles have hardened into something more like prison bars or maybe chains. In fact, that "something" might even be the only thing strong enough to readjust our focus outside ourselves, such that we can truly and clearly see and hear others, and even see and hear God, who spoke us. Of course, this often happens only when our reflections become such a horror we can no longer bear them. And that I believe is both the core as well as the extreme value of suffering.
The work of suffering over time erodes the walls of our bubbles, until they grow so thin they pop and are completely gone. Suffering compels us to listen carefully to the voice of the God that spoke us. And it also forces us to look into the eyes, listen carefully and receive help from those who would offer us from themselves.
If this doesn't sound crazy or maybe even sounds like something good that's a little too scary to want for yourself because you might get what you ask for, that's absolutely fine. We weren't made to want suffering. Kelly's point in part is that suffering comes of it's own accord. His point also is that it is not to be feared and that it can even be embraced and thereby eventually redeemed...along with everything else Jesus and his brothers and sisters embrace. We are however moved toward completion of our best possible selves not by avoiding suffering but by traveling through it...and that we cannot do successfully by ourselves. The world is such that suffering will arrive for each of us at one time or another. The Good News is that the possibility life is eternal and redemption of both us and our suffering is infinitely available.
This morning, my wife and I were watching a couple different morning shows using the commercial avoidance mechanism (aka. the remote control). Sprinkled in with the cooking, burps of news and a weepy feature or two, were the daily shots of the hosts out on the street with "The People." Most days, some of the People of the Street hold up signs. From time to time they get to meet Mr. Microphone in order to talk about what their sign means, say where they're from and "meet" Matt Lauer et al. In the middle of this, my wife asked a question about the hosts. "I wonder what bubble those people live in?"
That is an excellent question. She comes up with excellent questions all the time. It's one of my favorite things about her...except maybe when the questions are about me but that's a different blog entry.
I was thinking about it while I was watching all the noise ("watching the noise," huh, guess I wasn't paying much attention). The thought crawled into my brain that they live in the same kind of bubble we all do. If there's a difference, I think it's that there's more shiny and reflective stuff on the inside of their bubbles than for People of the Street. There might even be a ratio or proportion that says that the more people you have looking at you, the harder it is to see out of your own bubble.
Still though, all bubbles are shiny enough on the inside. So much so that sometimes their reflection makes it hard to see other people. Bubbles seem to reflect back sound as well so that way too often, we hear ourselves quite clearly and others only through the muffling of both their bubbles as well as our own.
The great thing about this kind of a bubble is that when it is ignored consistently, it goes away. Ignoring your bubble is difficult because it's shiny and distracting and can even be protective.
At another point this morning, my wife muted the Bubble People and read to me from a book she's reading. The book is "A Testament of Devotion" by Thomas Kelly. It was published in 1941. At that time of course, the world minus the United States had gone to war and we were soon to follow. Even with 24/7 media constantly feeding our paranoia and countless rumors of medical, social and political anger and angst, I believe 1941 was a more fundamentally frightening time than the present. Curiously, our ancestors of that time did not seem to exhibit the quaking fears and self loathing that we tend toward today. Maybe this was because they didn't have nearly as many tools to help them shiny up the inside of their bubbles. They were after all, only slowly emerging from The Great Depression. They were in many cases, too busy staying alive to worry much about their bubbles.
Partially no doubt in response to the times though, Kelly was writing on the good, even extreme good that's to be found in suffering. His thoughts are beautiful and complex and do not reduce well. However, I did hear something in them to do with bubbles.
It seems that there is something that can encourage us and even compel us to ignore our own bubbles, even when those bubbles have hardened into something more like prison bars or maybe chains. In fact, that "something" might even be the only thing strong enough to readjust our focus outside ourselves, such that we can truly and clearly see and hear others, and even see and hear God, who spoke us. Of course, this often happens only when our reflections become such a horror we can no longer bear them. And that I believe is both the core as well as the extreme value of suffering.
The work of suffering over time erodes the walls of our bubbles, until they grow so thin they pop and are completely gone. Suffering compels us to listen carefully to the voice of the God that spoke us. And it also forces us to look into the eyes, listen carefully and receive help from those who would offer us from themselves.
If this doesn't sound crazy or maybe even sounds like something good that's a little too scary to want for yourself because you might get what you ask for, that's absolutely fine. We weren't made to want suffering. Kelly's point in part is that suffering comes of it's own accord. His point also is that it is not to be feared and that it can even be embraced and thereby eventually redeemed...along with everything else Jesus and his brothers and sisters embrace. We are however moved toward completion of our best possible selves not by avoiding suffering but by traveling through it...and that we cannot do successfully by ourselves. The world is such that suffering will arrive for each of us at one time or another. The Good News is that the possibility life is eternal and redemption of both us and our suffering is infinitely available.
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