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.

How much harm has come from taking this statement from the Gospel of Matthew literally, and out of context! “You must be perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). This powerful sentence is part of Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount, where he has brought together all sorts of sayings of Jesus in an extended teaching on what it means to follow the Way of Jesus. It comes at the end of a very challenging section where Jesus lays out how extreme is the love and commitment he is calling for. We are to love our enemies. Pray for those who mistreat and oppose us. We are to be like Abba-God, who shares abundant goodness with all, good, bad, unjust, just – and with everyone of us who is a mix of all of this.  

Good people strive mightily to be perfect. Many good people give up trying. What’s the use! It’s impossible! We torture ourselves with our efforts to achieve perfection (Jesus told us to!), yet we know, only too well, in our heart of hearts, how imperfect we are. People who misread this line live lives of misery. Is this what Jesus meant? Would God sadistically demand something that, in no way, we can do?

The answer lies in the parallel text from the Gospel of Luke’s Sermon on the Plain (Luke 6:36). “You are to be merciful as your Heavenly Father is merciful. The perfection God invites, and challenges us to pursue, is one of mercy, of love. God does not require or expect that we embody divine perfection. God is happy with us, perfectly imperfect human beings. Jesus is just asking us to become all that we can, embodying Abba-God’s abundant compassion for everyone (including our selves) with the help of God’s abundant grace.

 

In the very first section of the very first chapter of the Gospel of Mark (where the action never stops!), Jesus comes from up North (Galilee) seeking out John the Baptizer who is preaching along the Jordan River. Jesus is moved to be baptized by John. And then Jesus has some kind of mystical experience that seems to be life-changing for him (and for us!). He senses the heavens being torn open and is aware of the Holy Spirit descending on him – something like a dove hovering over him. Then Jesus hears a voice coming from above that affirms, “You are my beloved son with whom I am very pleased.” 

What could this whole experience possibly mean for him, for his life? How can Jesus sort it all out? Before he can act, or even think it through, Jesus feels himself impelled by the Spirit to go out into the wilderness, to some deserted place where he makes a forty-day retreat. If he is the beloved child of God, what responsibility does he have? If God is well-pleased with him, as he is, what does that free up inside of him? Jesus wrestles with the big temptations that come with this revelation. Will he act as his ego demands? Will he let himself be guided by subtle forces that would have him use his gifts to satisfy himself, or to accomplish “great things”? Will he choose to be led only by that loving voice whispering within? We know that Jesus did not choose the easy path, and, in the end, he experienced the eternal loving embrace of Abba-God.

It would be a major mistake to think that the revelation given to Jesus at the Jordan River was meant for him alone. Every human being is offered the exact same message  – You are my beloved child. I am very pleased with you, as you are, and all that you can become. Sadly, too many of us are denied the possibility to hear this wonderful, beautiful truth. Too many lives are taken up with raw survival, bombarded by horrific lies, subjected to unimaginable abuses. All this noise pollution drowns out the loving affirmation of God. You are my beloved child. I am very well-pleased with you.

For those of us who are able to listen to the whisper of God within, and hear who we are from God’s perspective, what is our response? What is our responsibility? What does this mean for how we choose to live?

The God of the great Israelite prophets, and the God revealed in and by Jesus, is a God of unexpected (by us) reversals. This God delights in turning our preconceptions and favorite biases on their heads. We like to imagine that those who parade around pretending as if they have it all together are the ones God favors. Not so! We tend to see those with wealth and positions of power as being on top. Not so – according to God (Luke 1:50-53). The Way offered by Jesus is the direct opposite of climbing the ladder of success. If we have God’s love, we don’t need to grasp for the prevailing societal goals.We don’t need to let ourselves be swayed by every new wave. We can find peace and happiness (even joy) by placing ourselves at the service of others (like Jesus kneeling to wash his disciples’ feet at the Last Supper) not trying to climb over each other like a litter of piglets to get ahead (wherever that is).

We human beings are not foreigners to the dynamic of reversal. It seems to have started early in our existence. In the first two chapters of the first book of the Bible, Genesis, is the wonderful teaching story of creation. In Genesis 1:27, there is the amazing statement that God makes us in the divine image and likeness. Believe it or not, when we look at one another, with eyes of love – like God does – we can see God reflected! We can see Goodness, Beauty, Gracefulness. But how quickly do we try to do unto God what God has done to us. We try to remake God according to our own image and likeness. This never goes well.

We too often reduce God to the size of our egos, or to the shape of our fears. We re-imagine God, not out of our sense of wonder or our deepest desires, but out of our shallowest childhood wishes. We try to shove God into conveniently controllable boxes that we construct. We dress God up in our clothing, yet fail to see how ridiculous this god looks – something like stuffing Goliath into an extra small tuxedo. Not a pretty sight!

And how does God respond to our foolishness? Like a wise and loving parent who knows all our silly games of make-believe. Can you imagine a divine smile? A chuckle? At times, a divine tear? God is God – beyond our imaging, beyond our futile attempts at manipulation, beyond the limits of the image and likeness we prefer to project. We don’t need to puff ourselves up all out of proportion. Let God be God.  We don’t need to be.

There are so many sayings in the Gospel of John that are enigmatic and obscure, yet if you sit silently with them they might reveal some hidden wisdom. Or, they might just remain puzzling. Take John 16:16-20 for example. The setting is Jesus’ Last Supper discourse – Jesus’ long “farewell address” to his closest followers. It speaks of going away, returning, sorrow and joy. As usual, the disciples (like us often) don’t get it. Jesus tries to clarify.

“In a little while you will not see me, and again, a little while and you will see me.” Sounds to me like the ebb and flow of our relationship with Jesus, with God. There are seasons (or more frequently moments) when Jesus seems very real, very near. And there are times when it seems as if Jesus has never been with us. This is the rhythm of consolation and desolation. We can have amazing experiences of peace, closeness, insight – it can feel as if God is holding us in a warm, firm, embrace. We are certain of what we believe. Then, sometimes for no apparent reason, we feel empty, abandoned and full of doubt. Mother Teresa admitted in her private writings, published posthumously, that this was her experience of God for much of her life.

What might our patterns of sorrow and joy teach us (this is not about the period of sadness we feel as we grieve a real loss)? If we are not clinically depressed, or bipolar, whether we feel consoled or desolate, might have something to do with whether we receive each and every moment as gift, or if we have begun to take things for granted. We like to hold on, especially to what feels good to us, and we try to pretend that negative or uncomfortable experiences belong to someone else. The disciples sure wanted to hang on tightly to Jesus. He was their rock, their anchor, their inspiration, their leader. They were afraid that they would be lost without him. Mother Teresa could have told them that it’d be hard, but they would not be lost.

What we cling to, what we say we own, we possess, will not bring us life, health, peace, satisfaction. It fact, this stuff (relationships too) owns us, possesses us. The more we possess, the less  free we are. The question is can we have without possessing. The answer is, if we receive all as pure gift, and we live a continuous psalm of gratitude, yes. This is possible as long as we keep our attention fixed on the Giver who is present as Gift in each and every moment – whether we feel God’s presence or not.

Jesus made it very clear. In order to receive, and to have the gift of the Holy Spirit forever, we need to let go of the familiar, comfortable presence of Jesus as he was hanging out with us during his lifetime. And we need to remember that the Holy Spirit is the very embodiment of gift.