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?

 

 

One of the pervasive images with which we humans clothe God is that of a god that controls each and every moment and movement – a god who usurps the possibility of any freedom on our part. Like a puppeteer, this god toys with us, individually and as a species, throughout our lifetimes and our history, pulling the strings and making us move, dance, stumble, fall – literally jerking us around. No will of our own. This god is intimately, intricately and invasively involved in everything – a divine busybody, a divine bully who hoards the universal remote control that animates all things.

From the perspective of the divinization of human knowledge, this tyrannical god is ridiculous, yet comes in handy. It is a caricature very easily dismissed. Yet it meshes well with the perspective that we are the helpless pawns of a myriad of visible and invisible, purely natural and completely explainable forces. There is no need for a divine being, all is explainable through science – to the free and mature human being of today.

People of faith try to navigate the choppy waters of the narrows between the extremes of, we are totally free and we are completely controlled by forces beyond us. It is true that our freedom is very limited. And it is also true that we are able to say yes and no, to choose, to some degree, how we will live. People who love recognize the element of freedom that makes love possible. Without freedom, love, the free gift of one’s self, is meaningless. It couldn’t exist. Love cannot be programmed or even predicted.

God is Love, as Scriptures tells us. God wants us to be free from all that limits or impedes what is possible for us. God desires that we are free to choose to love, and to know that we are loved – no strings attached.

Belief is a wonderful thing. It’s more than knowing, more than sensing, more than feeling. But when life comes crashing down with its full weight on our heads, faith doesn’t seem substantial enough to hold us up. We Christians believe a truly nonsensical story. God, out of love, becomes one of us, lives our life in fidelity to all that is truly right and good, and dies our death in a most humiliating and disgraceful manner. But that’s not the end. In the epilogue, this God-man, Jesus, is raised to life again and initiates a world-altering movement – dependent on faith.

No wonder, taken at face value, this appears totally outrageous. Except to some who have experienced this Jesus as a force and loving inspiration in and for their lives. Believing in Jesus, and in his story, takes courage, because it calls us to a radical change of life. The promise is, that if we can generate a critical mass of belief, and put this faith into action, our world will be transformed for the better. Many times this can feel like sledding uphill on bare dirt and loose, coarse gravel.

Jesus’ invitation doesn’t go down well to those who cautiously sit on the fence waiting for more proof, when all that is given is promise. If we trust wholeheartedly in this promise, we can experience the presence and action of God’s Spirit – aka the Holy Spirit – transforming us. We can recognize this Spirit at work within and through us to the extent that we find ourselves loving in ways we never thought possible.

Belief is a wonderful thing. And it’s not for the faint of heart.

 

From grade school, if not before, I have always understood the image of “the keys to the Kingdom” in a certain way. This year, on the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul (June 29), another possible interpretation presented itself as I read the gospel of the day – often designated as Peter’s Profession of Faith (Matthew 16:13-19). Let me try to explain.

Jesus and his closest followers are in the extreme north of Palestine, near one of the sources of the Jordan River – Gentile territory – in the area around the city, Caesarea Philippi. Jesus stops and asks his disciples what people are saying about who he is. They respond with a short list of the usual suspects: Elijah, Jeremiah, one of the other old-time prophets, John the Baptist… Then Jesus continues, “and what do you think?”

“Who do you say I am?” This is a critical question that Jesus directs also to us. How do we answer it?

Simon, also called Peter by Jesus, true to his impetuous nature, blurts out: “You are the Messiah, Son of the Living God!” Jesus responds, “This insight you have doesn’t come from human speculation or conjecture, it’s divinely inspired.”  You can picture Simon Peter standing straighter, beaming, nodding his head. He’s just gone to the head of the class. Jesus’ praise is confirmation that Peter deserves his sure and certain place in Jesus’ confidence.

But there’s more in Matthew’s version. This is the only Gospel that has the designation of Peter as the foundation stone for the assembled community that will grow from Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. “You are Peter, and upon this rock (great pun, since Peter and rock are synonymous) I will build up my community. I will give you the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven. Whatever you tie up will be tied in heaven; whatever you free up, will be free in heaven.” I always thought that this meant that Peter had the power and authority to control access to heaven. Can’t be. That belongs to God alone.

The keys are to the Kingdom, not to heaven. This Kingdom of God is already here, yet still growing snd developing. It is a kingdom of profound and pervasive peace, a Kingdom of Shalom. The binding and loosing, tying and freeing, is the key. It speaks of forgiveness, freely given or withheld. We can enter this Kingdom, we can live at peace, as long as we know, in our heart of hearts, that we are forgiven and that we forgive any and all, including our selves. Not always easy! The keys to God’s Kingdom are mercy, compassion, forgiveness. What we do here, during our lifetime, has enduring effects.

Just a few verses later (Matthew 16:21-23), Jesus will be scolding Peter for his gross lack of understanding of Jesus’ mission and it’s almost certain outcome (suffering, death). Peter, strong and sure one moment, weak, tottering and off track the next. That’s why Rock can also be called Rocky. Here is a very human foundation for a very human enterprise. When the critical hour arrives, Peter, out of fear, denies Jesus. When he realizes what he has done, he has a choice: to go the way of despair – like Judas, or to embrace the unconditional promise of forgiveness and to forgive himself. He chooses to accept forgiveness. Now he is ready to enter the Kingdom of Shalom, and to open the way for others.

It seems that we humans have tried to domesticate God for as long as we have recognized something greater than ourselves. After all, a tamed and housebroken god is much easier  to live with. We would prefer to think that God can be trained to obey our simple commands. God can’t! The fact is: God is wild, unpredictable – always coming up with new, surprising and unexpected (according to our way of seeing)  actions.

God cannot be tamed. God doesn’t depend on our care and feeding. And God certainly requires more than to be taken our for a walk, or run, now and then. We cannot put a cute, little red bow on God. Just try to put a leash, or a bit and bridle, on God!

We can’t have it both ways. Either God is Sovereign, or is not God. Either God takes the lead, or we do. We can see how well we’ve done as a species by looking at human history. To the extent that we’ve lived as God desires, the world has been a better place. Whenever we’ve chosen to do it our way, pain, destruction and suffering have increased. Which divine being do we choose? Caged, or free range? I prefer God: who doesn’t fit in a carrier, the front seat of our car, a trailer. or even our whole house. This God, beyond our imagining, has been trying forever to teach us to be wild – wildly loving.