Jesus was extra concerned with rich people. The gospels make it clear that Jesus often tried to warn those who had wealth about the great risk in having too much. When we have more than enough, it is very easy to make what we have the center, the god, of our life. We can tend to put our trust in the illusion of security that wealth whispers seductively to our heart. Jesus invites us to have what we need and to be grateful and generous – generous like the One who provides good things to us.

Luke, in his gospel, definitely captures Jesus’ heartache for the wealthy. In the sixteenth chapter (Luke 16: 9-15), there is a followup to his parable of the “Dishonest Steward.” (Remember the guy who was cheating his master and gets caught?). Jesus says, “Use wealth (most probably gained at the expense of others),  to cultivate friendships, so that when wealth betrays you and fails you, you will have people to welcome you when you ultimately approach God’s tent.

Jesus goes on to point out that if we are worthy of trust when engaged in the nitty-gritty, we will be trustworthy when we are dealing with big stuff. And if we cheat to get our own advantage in the little things, we will be totally unreliable when it comes to really important matters. To Jesus, how we use money is important. It is a measure of our integrity. And, for him, all we have is, at root, a gift from God. It’s given to us to use to build up God’s Kingdom. Are we wealthy due to our own crafty manipulations and dishonesty, or because we are using God’s gifts as God desires?

Jesus is pointing out that we are the stewards of God’s abundant blessings. Do we use our intelligence, status,  abilities to advance peace, unity, goodness, truth, love in the world? Or not? Do we want to look good, like we’ve got the world in our back pocket, or be good? What, or Whom, do we serve? God or illusory wealth?

We know that Jesus liked to use parables as part of his teaching toolkit. A parable is an open-ended story designed to engage its hearers and move their minds and hearts beyond where they have been until now. They can have an unexpected twist and frequently end with a question. Scripture scholars have made it clear that the gospels were not dictated by Jesus to the evangelists. They picked and chose what they felt was important for their listeners and, later, their readers. And they added their own spin. Much of the commentary on the parables that Jesus told was added later as the gospels were edited to address issues in the community for whom the gospel was put into its final, written form.

One of the most popular of these teaching tales was the parable of the sower and the seeds. It appears in all three synoptic gospels (Mark 4:3-9; Matthew 13:4-9; Luke 8:5-8). It is usually placed first among Jesus’ parables, so the evangelists who did the editing seemed to have thought it had a clearly vital message. Perhaps because they themselves experienced in their ministry what Jesus taught through this parable.

It goes like this: a farm worker went out to plant a crop of grain. The method used was what was later described as broadcasting. Take a handful of seeds and fling them out with a wide sweeping motion as you walk along. Afterward, a plowman would come along and loosen the soil to better receive and to germinate the seeds. Even if you were very careful and accurate with your broadcasting, inevitably some seed would land on ground that wasn’t suitable for growing grain.

Jesus continues. Some of the seed fell on a path that lined, or maybe even cut across, the field. Some seed fell on patches that had so much rock and stone that it wasn’t reasonable to even try to clear it all. Some seed fell among thorns – those tough, stubborn weeds whose own seeds blew in from everywhere. Some seed (hopefully most of it!) fell on good soil.

What happened to these seeds? The seed that fell on the well-traveled and beaten path was easy food for the birds or was trampled by the passersby. The seed that fell among the rocks and stones sprouted and sent up its shoots very quickly, because there was no depth to the soil there. The blazing sun burned up the tender plants almost as quickly as they appeared. The seed that fell among the thorns couldn’t compete with those defiant botanical bullies. They sprouted, but got overwhelmed by the competition. The seed that fell on the good soil grew abundantly according to the richness of the nutrients and the timeliness of the rains.

What’s clearly behind this farming tale is what Jesus experienced in his own ministry. Some people got his message and some people didn’t. Some people were too indoctrinated with a hardened mindset and couldn’t even take it in. Some were unable to receive the message because the religious authorities, or their relatives and friends, with persistent opposition, ridicule and critiquing, took away the possibility for them to give the message a fair hearing. Some were shallow. They liked the gentle, beautiful words about love, but couldn’t stand the challenging parts of Jesus’ message (e.g. the consequences of loving to the end, no matter what). Some people enthusiastically embraced the novelty of the message and all the energy around Jesus, but never really took it, or him, seriously. After a time, the fad wore thin and was replaced by other more interesting or entertaining distractions. Some people were able to hear Jesus out – the whole message – and bought into it (both the beautiful and the difficult aspects of it) with their lives. They became abundantly fruitful witnesses of the truth that Jesus was telling and living.

The later commentary identifies the seed as the Word of God. Who “gets it”? Who is able to hear and take to heart the message of God’s love, personally embodied in Jesus himself? Anyone who tries to live and proclaim this message will face the same responses. There is so much that hinders us from wholeheartedly receiving and living out the kind of egoless love that Jesus is! The great twentieth-century German theologian, Karl Rahner, once wrote that the biggest challenge to faith today is everyday life in the world – with all its struggles and suffering. Faith in God and in the Good News of Jesus embraces all that is, and all that can and will be – possibilities we can’t even imagine. Which type of seed are you?

Have you thought about plowing fields lately? Plowmen, holding a straight line to have the furrows as close to each other as possible, determined how abundant a crop one might raise. Those tight furrows could make the difference between a farmer having enough grain to sell to keep his family well-provided for or not. This was especially tricky if you were fortunate enough to have access to an ox or donkey, which tended to go their own way, pulling the plow, Plowing without computers, GPS, and all our modern machinery with its advanced technology was a skill and an art.

Jesus, who worked with wood and stone in his trade, perhaps had made several plows by hand. He knew which wood was better for this implement. He knew the importance of shape, the need to smooth the wood, removing bark, splinters and rough patches, and how to hone the wooden point so that it would more easily drive through soil and yet would not shatter when it came up against the myriad stones that populated the land.  He obviously was a keen observer of nature and of the workings of agriculture. Just look at how many of his parables speak of growing, of soils, of seeds – of working the land!

In the Gospel of Luke (Luke 9:61-62), at the very end of the ninth chapter, a potential disciple boldly declares to Jesus: “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me go say goodbye to my family back home.” Jesus responds with a strong image: “No one who sets a hand to the plow and keeps looking back is a good fit for God’s Kingdom.” Another translation is “looks to what was left behind.” How can you raise an abundant crop if you are constantly looking over your shoulder? It’s impossible to cut straight, deep, clean furrows if you’re not watching where you’re going.

Where are our eyes and energies fixed?  On what was, or on what might yet be? Jesus is saying that life moves forward. There is no time for nostalgia, for pining for the “good old days” – which is usually an idealization that filters out all the hardships, difficulties and problems that are part of every age.  There can be a sense of security in keeping our focus on what has been. (Though security is an illusion.) We’ve already faced and dealt with that stuff, and survived, if not thrived through it all. It’s familiar, not fearfully unknown. If memories hold us in the past, they possess us. Hope doesn’t reside in the past, only in the future. We remember what God has done before and trust that the Holy Spirit hasn’t run out of creativity or gracious surprises. Jesus urgently invites us to move forward with him in building the Kingdom. Don’t look back!

Jesus invites us to become like little children – spontaneous, filled with wonder, super-trusting, open, eager to learn and to grow. Jesus, though, is not encouraging childishness. Children love to play. It’s their way to explore the world, to learn the rules of how things work and how to be with others. 

When we “play games” with others: when we don’t deal with them openly, honestly, fairly, when we manipulate and use twisted emotions to get our own way, we are NOT being like little children. We are behaving like spoiled brats. This is not playful, but destructive, and self-destructive.

Sometimes we might find ourselves playing games with the divine. This is not very healthy for our relationship with God. One common game we could try is hide and seek. We pretend that God can’t find us, especially when we are doing something that we consider bad or sinful. (Remember the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden.) As if there is any place apart from God who is here, everywhere. Maybe we think that if we keep God out of our consciousness, God can’t see us. Like little children who cover their eyes and declare, “You can’t see me now!” As if we can keep God “in the dark.”

It can also be that we imagine God playing hide and seek with us. We can feel that God is an expert at this game – hidden and impossible to find. God certainly can be silent, which is disconcerting in our world of uninterrupted noise. But God is always there, even when we can’t sense God’s loving presence. When we believe this, God emerges from the shadows. This is not necessarily consoling, because it may seem to us that no one or nothing is “there.” God is playful, but God doesn’t play games

Here’s a piece of the Gospel that’s more potent than a triple espresso on a sleepy Sunday morning – especially as Luke presents it (Luke:14:25-27). Jesus challenges us: Anyone who comes to me without hating father, mother, brother, sister, spouse, children… (not talking about the occasional day when said person is acting like a “genuine pain in the neck” hate) you cannot be my disciple. Who would that leave as disciples? A bunch of holy haters? Who would want to follow someone who requires you to hate those you are closest to? This is crazy!

To begin to unravel this apparently insensitive, unloving and genuinely puzzling way for Jesus to sort out true from fake disciples, it helps to remember that Aramaic (the first language of Jesus), similar to its sister tongue Hebrew, is a primitive form of communication. Aramaic is predominantly oral. It doesn’t have all the sophisticated nuances of any modern language in this age of global communication. (And see how well we do communicating – even when we are using the same language!) The only way to make a comparison in ancient Aramaic is by lining up, side-by-side, opposing ideas – like love and hate.

In ancient Aramaic, in order to express preference you would have to say something like, “I love this, but I hate that.” There was no way to say, “I like blueberries better than I like zucchini.” Loyalty demanded that you give absolute preference to your tribal or clan chief. You would “love” your chief. You would pledge your life to your chief. You would “love” all the members of your nation, tribe, clan and family. This leaves all others to be “hated.”  This fierce allegiance made your group strong enough to survive. Is this much different than what dictators and militaries today require? 

So, what Jesus is saying in modern parlance is, “To be my disciple you need to put me first – ahead of all your other natural relationships – like family.” All those who do, have the tightest bond – even tighter than blood. He is not saying that we need to loathe, despise or have nothing to do with those we naturally love. “Hate,” as Jesus means it, is not hate – at least as we understand it.

The language Jesus used was radical in his day. Family, clan and tribe were the bedrock of social cohesion. He was calling people to a new, all-inclusive family that recognized only One as Abba of all peoples. The type of loyalty to which Jesus calls us is a major challenge. But it is not hateful of others. Jesus is asking us to put him before others in our life, and like him, to love God with all we are.

 

Our days are filled with choices. Some of these choices are simple and inconsequential, and some of them are tough and have potentially serious outcomes. On top of this, there isn’t any course in most schools to help us figure out what would be the better choice among the myriad that scream for a decision – NOW!  Is there a simple formula to help us to choose wisely and well?

One of the great figures of spirituality, wisdom and action of the 20th century was Mahatma Gandhi. He came to his deep understanding of things through suffering, seeking, learning, and patient practice. His way feels uncomfortable in our fast-paced, seek the easy way, avoid pain or monotonous work world. Gandhi’s way is inconvenient. Through his long journey to inner freedom and non-violent living, he discovered a clear, uncomplicated way to face choices and to decide.

Gandhi recommended that, when we are faced with a significant decision, we stop and think of the poorest person with whom we are acquainted (and some days it might be we ourselves who are most needy!) – not some abstract person living in misery somewhere, over there… Then imagine how my choice will impact that person’s life. Will that person’s life be better in some way for what I choose, or not? Might it even be worse because of my decision and action?

What we eat, what we drink, what we wear, what we choose to do, how we choose to live, impact the lives of countless others. Wherever we have a meaningful choice (we’re not talking about what color lipstick or which socks to choose today), it may be that human lives are at stake somewhere down the chain. When we make such choices, we need to consider whose lives could be unburdened and freer; whose lives might be dangerously shaken, or submerged, by the ripple-effect. At least, that’s what Gandhi would do.

Once upon a time, I read a reflection from a theologian (beware of people who play in the sandbox of theology). He was trying to make a point, which I never quite understood. For him, there is a distinction between the work of God and God’s work. This theologian insisted that we can do one, but not the other. But which one is which?

I’m writing this on Labor Day here in the United States. My guess is that we certainly can do godly work –  work inspired by God and that reflects the goodness and universal heart of God. But we as surely cannot do what only God can do. Our work, at its best, mirrors God’s.

God creates, continually. We can use our gift for creativity to make this world a better place. God reveals, continually. We can use our gifts for communication to make clearer the truth, beauty and goodness in all that is. We can use our communicative abilities to bring together what doesn’t seem (to our fearful hearts) to belong together – just like God does. God inspires, continually. We can use our gifts for lifting others up and helping them to see a new and a fuller vision of what is, and of what can be. God heals, continually. We can use our gifts to bring healing and peace to others. God liberates, continually. We can use our gifts to set people free from their illusions, and their belief in the seductive powers of darkness, by inviting them gently, lovingly into warm, welcoming light.

Our world is so terribly wounded, broken, hurting, lost, and wandering aimlessly. There is plenty of work that we can, and need to, do. We pray along with the verse from the Psalm (Psalm 90:16-17): “Prosper the work of our hands,” and the work of our hearts, our spirits, our minds, our lives. Prosper all that we do, moved by Your Spirit. Amen.

 

Listening to the sweeping movements of Strauss’s Blue Danube Waltz, reminded me of a biblical three-step put forth by the prophet Micah, a contemporary of the prophet Isaiah. Micah was trying to warn the the people of  the Southern Kingdom to change their evil ways (Micah 6:8). After the prophet, channeling God’s voice (as true prophets do), calls the people of Judah (and, by extension, us) to task. God gives a list of the major ways that the Israelites (us, too) have experienced the saving, liberating, healing action that could only be attributed to divine intervention: being freed from slavery in Egypt, being given great leaders, like Moses and his siblings, Aaron and Miriam, being spared from predatory monarchs and nations, being led through the wilderness…

God is the same for us as for the Israelites. God desires to liberate us from any and all enslavements (and we are very creative in entangling ourselves, and getting ourselves stuck in some form of unfreedom). God supplies wise and good people along our way. There are voices around us, and a voice within, to warn us away from dangers. God, if we cooperate, leads and guides our lives toward what is truly good and loving and life-giving. 

The people (we) replies to Micah: With what can we come before the Holy One who has treated us so graciously? Will God be pleased with thousands of animals burnt whole in sacrifice?  Countless streams of oil poured out? Perhaps God will only be satisfied, like the gods of the nations around us, with the sacrifice of our first born children? In other words, how can we ever pay God back for such infinite graciousness? What does God demand in return? The prophet Hosea had already put an answer on God’s lips before the earlier destruction and exile of the Northern Kingdom, “What I desire is mercy (compassion), not sacrifice.”

Micah reduces good, faithful living – living the way that God desires – to a three-step program: Act justly, Love with tender faithfulness; and Act humbly before God. This is all that God asks of us. That we treat everyone fairly. That we are true in all our dealings. That we love with tenderness and fidelity, not using or abusing others, overtly or subtly. That we act before God, and all God’s creation, with humility, knowing our place. We are wonderful, but we are not gods. We are made of earth and enlivened by the breath (Spirit) of God. If we do these three movements, we may find ourselves dancing gracefully as our life unfolds.

 

 

Maybe it’s the opposite of the “Puppet Master god,” but, from our side of the divine-human equation, we, sometimes, might want to put the strings on God. If only God would do what I want!  Humans have had a fascination throughout history with trying to discover ways to manipulate God. Magic can be one of these attempts.

How great it would be to have a book of incantations to bring about whatever effects (special or not) we would like! There must be a formula of words that can unlock power, open invisible doors, transform our enemies into hideous and grotesque things. Perhaps there’s some potion we can swallow that will give us a glimpse into the mind of God.

For believers who belong to sacramental churches, there can be the understanding that, if one performs the ritual correctly we can make God appear, maybe even make God do our bidding (like rubbing an old, tarnished oil lamp). Sacraments only work because God has chosen to use created reality as a way to encounter God with us, within us, and among us. We have supplied the rituals and words. The graces that may come through them are God’s doing.

Paul Dukas’ music in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice vividly evokes the perils of ignorance playing with power to serve selfish purposes. When it comes to trying to conjure the divine, we don’t know what we are doing. There are so many other popular tales, including in the Bible, that try to demonstrate that we get in deep, deep trouble when we try to force God to jump through our hoops.

On the other hand, why would we want to go that route? God has already offered the most incredible magic of all. God has implanted the power to love in each one. We only need tap into it. To the extent that we do, we will change the world in the most beautiful way. Try the magic of love.

This dire message, dark and ominous, with the word will underlined multiple times, is on a very prominent billboard at a busy intersection near our home. The background depicts a readout from a heart monitor with a healthy looking pattern in red that suddenly morphs into a flatline, indicating the end of life. Not too subtle! Then there is a phone number, in case this warning has caught your attention and you have instantly become overwhelmed with dread of your eternal destiny, They (whoever they are) are waiting anxiously for your call. They can save you from something or other.

Instead of fear, this billboard fills me with a deep sadness. Why would anyone need to go through their whole life before they see God? Look around you! The world overflows with inexplicable gifts. In the midst of struggles, challenges, sorrows, pain and loss, there are beauty, kindness, goodness, graciousness, moments of joy. There is love – even heroic love. All we need do is look at a child, and see the wonder radiating from their eyes. God is smiling out from within all that is graceful and good. It’s a true tragedy when fear, ego and other distractions blind us from recognizing this. We can see God, here and now.

The divine and the less than divine are not polar opposites. One flows from the other. One flows into, and through, the other. People who call themselves Christian need to be very careful to not manufacture dualities. After all, we claim to believe that the Almighty shares intimately, through an amazing union with humanity, in Jesus.

How will we recognize God “after we die” if we haven’t seen God while we are alive?