After Thoughts: Twenty Third Sunday after Pentecost

Matthew 25:1-13

The Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids.  Now there’s a story that really bugs me.  It seems riddled with inconsistencies and conundrums.  As a child, I was taught to be a wise bridesmaid, always prepared – kind of a Boy Scout approach to understanding the story.  But really?  This puts salvation dangerously close to works righteousness, all about what I do, not what Jesus did.  Just stock up on oil and I’m good to go, the gates of heaven will open wide. 

Then there’s the selfishness of the wise bridesmaids.  What oil vendor is open at midnight and who sends her friends off to find it at such a time, especially when there is extra oil at hand?  Later, when the five return and knock on the door, and the bridegroom says he does not know them, why didn’t those wise ones intervene and speak for their friends?  This sounds more like Survivor Island than the kingdom of heaven.

Most perplexing, who shouted at midnight?  All ten women had fallen asleep.  Who was watching?  Who had spotted the bridegroom?

As I read, re-read, and researched this passage, my thoughts have continued to swirl.  There are some really interesting, and some kind of kooky, understandings of this story.  But I think the key question, and the one that unlocks it for me, is:

Where is the bride?

It’s a wedding after all.  We have a bridegroom, bridesmaids, and a banquet hall.  There has to be a bride in here somewhere.  Is she the one who called out at midnight?  It’s most likely the bride would be the most excited, watching and waiting no matter how long for her beloved to arrive. 

This reminds me of two beautiful brides who have blessed me with the role of MOB.  I have treasured memories of watching them plan and prepare and equip everyone so the wedding celebration was a joyous occasion for all.  Brides can often be depicted as vain and selfish, but I think the opposite is the case.  In their attention to detail and their meticulous preparation, they are thinking of their guests.  Will the menu work for everyone? Is transportation accessible and does everyone know the route to get to the right places at the right times?  Special consideration is given to the bridesmaids – what do they need?  Where will they stay?  Where will they get ready?  Do they need help with hair and make-up?  What about cover-ups and flip-flops? Water bottles?  Child care?  On and on.  The bride is the heavy lifter when it comes to a successful wedding feast.

So where is this bride and what is she doing throughout this story?  Why didn’t the bridesmaids have enough oil to keep watch as long as needed?  If they did have to forage for their own oil, why isn’t the bride as anxiously awaiting their return as she anticipated her bridegroom’s arrival? How could the banquet start without the entire party?  It makes me want to scream – that just isn’t right.  This whole story stinks.

Until.  Until I look in the mirror.  Oops.  Who is the bride?  It’s me.  It’s you.  It’s all of us in the Church.  Might this parable be our wake-up call? 

Are we waiting and watching?  The hour is unknown, but when the bridegroom arrives, will we be ready and waiting?  Not like the sandwich-board guy proclaiming the end is near.  This is an active waiting.  Feeding the sheep.  Fighting for justice.  Caring for widows and orphans.  Walking humbly.  Being faithful stewards of all the good gifts we have been given.

Are we equipping and caring?  Do our bridesmaids have what they need?  Not in an in-your-face evangelizing way.  But in a true love-your-neighbor way.  Do we listen for those in need around us?  Do we offer a hug, a meal, a safe place for people to tell their stories and share their narratives?  Do we seek together our common humanity and acknowledge each person’s uniqueness?  Do we suspend judgment and fill empty spaces with grace?

Are we talking to the bridegroom about our bridesmaids in anticipation of the big party just around the corner? Why does the bridegroom not know these five women?  Has the bride never mentioned her dear friends?  Are we praying for our loved ones, our friends, our neighbors, our enemies – bringing them to God in our conversations with Him?  Praying for them in the deepest way, not that our will be done, but that God’s will be done in their lives.  Regardless of their relationship with God, we know God so God should have heard about them from us.  No one needs to be left outside of this celebration.    

God has given us, the Church, the starring role in this sacred story.  In our life as the Church, our witness to love can be so strong that even those who don’t know the Bridegroom ask to be included in the festivities.  So we must always be on alert - are we, the Bride, preparing an inclusive, come-one-come-all feast?  Are we open to and aware of the needs of those around us?  Are we bringing extra oil to be shared with all – even those who don’t know they need it?  We, the Church, as community, as the bride of Christ, are the living answer to an on-going mystery in the lead-up to an awesome banquet when the two shall become one. 

I don’t think this is the end of the parable, but more like a dramatic pause – breathless suspense giving the Bride time to show up.  God is calling the Church on earth to be his Bride and to do the heavy lifting. But if, like the bride in this parable, we fail miserably, our Bridegroom will not and cannot fail.  We know this Bridegroom and He cannot leave things this way.  So I see Jesus looking around the table, first at the bridesmaids, then at the Bride and saying something like “Really?  Are you just going to sit there?  Someone open the door.”

After Thoughts: Twenty Second Sunday after Pentecost - All Saints

Matthew 5:1-12

I’ve been struggling with this week’s writing.  It’s been sort of a triple whammy.  Sunday was All Saints Day, always a day of joyful remembrance and yet sorrowful.  Every time I sing The Church’s One Foundation, that line about “mystic sweet communion with those who’ve gone before” gets me.  The last time I went to church with Dad, he was on oxygen, yet determined to walk up for communion.  We stood side by side with Mom – it is now one of my sweetest memories of those final weeks. 

Then, on that very day, the Gospel for the day hits home.  Most of us, church folk or not, are familiar with the Sermon on the Mount.  All those ‘blessed are” pronouncements, followed by a promise.  “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”  “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”  This is the one that made my heart beat a little faster as it was read out loud.  Dad’s advice was always, no matter what the problem – “Be a peacemaker.”  Those words ring in my head, heart, and soul often.  There is no greater commandment than to love God and love the neighbor.  Making peace with one another is a good place to start.

And then, Tuesday came.  November 7.  The day Mom died.  I don’t mean to brag, but I had the absolute best parents a child could have.,.even an adult child.  We lived miles apart, but we Skyped almost daily and talked about things that really mattered.  I miss them both so much and try not to dwell on the past, but some weeks are set aside for just such celebrations.  “When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” (Kahlil Gibran)

So some weeks, instead of peace like a river, I feel more like Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption.  Like I’m searching for peace in a river of sewage: grief, loss, anger, despair.  All those little demons that love to latch onto my soul and attempt to move me away from the light.

As I wrestled with this text and how to put my thoughts into words, watching the week slip away, the world threw another curve ball.  A family from my hometown lost a precious, beautiful young daughter in a most horrific way.   It is heartbreaking and unfathomable and senseless.  And yet…there is light.  The father posted:  Hallelujah!  Hallelujah!!  She is going to see the King.

Like Andy Dufresne and all those saints who have gone before us, let us keep going, wading through the dark days, laughing through the bright days, taking our refuge in the Lord.  For what will be has not yet been revealed.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

After Thoughts: Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost

John 8:31-38

The key words from today’s reading are: Continue.  Know.  Free.  If we continue in the word, we will know the truth and we will be made free.   In this particular passage from the Gospel of John, Jesus is speaking to first century followers who immediately get all riled up, letting him know in no uncertain terms that they are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves.

What is so funny about this is that they are celebrating the Festival of Booths.  Check out Chapter 7 – Jesus has gone to Jerusalem to be part of the event.  During this time, the people recalled their captivity in Egypt by living in booths, or tents of a sort, as a way of re-enacting their exodus from captivity.  It was a way to share their history and recall God’s saving grace.  In the midst of this commemoration of how God freed them from slavery and brought them into a new land, they are insisting that they have never been slaves.  It’s just a crazy assertion.  But it seems to reveal that their festival has become little more than a dead annual tradition.  They don’t even know why and what they are celebrating.  It happens.  We keep on doing the same old things year after year and sometimes the meaning is drained away.

This is why Jesus says “if you continue.” We must keep working and praying and learning and doing.  Because God’s Word is alive – Jesus is alive.  We cannot just memorize a creed or a prayer and stay locked in a tradition of our own making.  We are called to be creative agents along with God who is always making things new. Martin Luther awakened us to this possibility in the Reformation. Luther translated the Bible into the common language, he tore down the walls between laity and clergy, and he opened people’s hearts and minds to the grace of God that breaks the curse of sin. God is calling us into relationship to experience this gift of grace.

Then, from within this relationship with God, we are freed to be in authentic relationship with our neighbor.  In the knowing of one another, our humanity is made whole, and we are able to banish prejudice, fear, envy, and strife.  We see ourselves and others as children of God, without distinction, for all are slaves to sin and we all fall short. Skin color, gender, social status, and all of those human barriers to relationship, are broken down as we come to know one another in friendship and love.

To continue means to go forth and engage in life.  We move from the theoretical assuredness and lifelessness of isolated existence into the glorious uncertainty and sacredness of community.  We find that Jesus was speaking not just to first century followers.  Jesus is speaking to us right now. Let us listen and let us continue. So that we may know the truth.  So that we may be free. 

After Thoughts: Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost

The Gospel of Matthew is a story of identity.  Who is Jesus? Matthew starts with a genealogy and the assertion that Jesus is the Messiah, the anointed one that has been foretold and for whom everyone was waiting. Throughout the book, Matthew makes it clear that Jesus is certain of who he is, whose he is, and why he is here.  He has come to “fulfill all righteousness” (3:15) and God claims him as His Son, the Beloved. (3:17)  Matthew’s narrative continues as Jesus is tempted by Satan and teaches on the mountain.  He heals the sick and stills the storm. 

Is it any wonder that everyone wants to know who this guy is?  John the Baptist wanted confirmation and sent his disciples to ask “Are you the one?” (11:2-6).  There were those who knew who Jesus was and were disappointed and incredulous at his claims.  After all, he was just a chap from Nazareth. (13:54-58) Even Peter questioned his identity.  Jesus wasn’t the butt-kicking, take-no-prisoners sort of savior he had anticipated.  When Jesus talked of suffering and death, Peter tried to change the conversation.  (16:21-23)  And the powers-that-be?  They were both angry and afraid.  Jesus rode into town on a donkey to the delight of the crowds.  Then he set to cleansing the temple, upsetting their nice little economic system and questioning their authority.  What to do?  What to do?

That’s where today’s reading picks up.  The Pharisees, representing the temple, and the Herodians, representing the Roman government, decide to trap Jesus. They come up with just the question to do it. “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” For some perspective, imagine a colonial governor being asked “is it lawful to pay the tea tax to the British, or not?”  If he said yes, pay it, he would not fare well with the crowds.  If he said, no, don’t pay it, he would have the wrath of the British government on his head. 

The same applied here.  If Jesus said yes, the people would be upset.  Rome was the oppressor and any tax was a burden to the people.  The Pharisees could say – “see folks, just like all the other leaders.  Show me the money.”  But, if Jesus said no, the Herodians could report him and accuse him of treason against the empire. 

This binary query seemed such an easy trap, so how did the answer leave those who posed it in amazement?  Can’t you just see them walking away, shaking their heads, wondering what just happened? Because Jesus did not dumb down and let them force him into a reply.  That is exactly what binary questions do.  They reduce the complex to simple black and white halves.  Are you a Republican or Democrat?  Pro-life or pro-choice?  Conservative or liberal?  Once a side is chosen, the lines are drawn and the battles begin. Jesus shows us how to reframe and rise above human conundrums to find God’s way forward.

The decision Jesus poses to us in this story is one of our identity.  Do we know who we are?  Are we a denarius, a worldly coin, stamped with images made by human hands, being traded in the marketplace of the world, letting our uniqueness and beauty be perverted?  Or are we children of our Creator, always being made new by God, transformed into the image of Christ?  Margaret Wheatley, in Finding our Way, writes that “…everything we know is determined by who we think we are.”  Who are we?  We are children of God.  God has set His seal upon us and marked us as His own. Let us render unto God the things that are God’s.

After Thoughts: The Holy Trinity

Exactly one year ago this week, I started writing blog posts on the lectionary readings from the previous Sundays. After Thoughts was a blessing for me, a time to reflect and process and share. My last post was on the day after Christmas, 26 December, one of those turning point days when everything changed. The months since have been a time to find the new normal, to help Kate heal, to watch Kate and Craig become amazing parents, to love and cherish our precious twin grandbabies. There is much to write about those days and that will come in time. For now, I am ready to return to lectionary blogging.

My last lectionary post was the Fourth Sunday of Advent – and now here we are after Pentecost. Pentecost Sunday, which was 4 June this year, is one of my favorites. I think of the church calendar in two parts – the first part is from Advent through Pentecost. Each year, we walk the earthly life of Jesus from the foretelling of his birth through his arrival in the manger to the cross, the grave, the resurrection, the ascension, and finally, the arrival of the Holy Spirit. The readings for Pentecost Sunday are full of wonderful words. We – ordinary people living our ordinary lives – are going to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and we’re going to prophesy and have visions and dream dreams. (Acts 2:1-21) Each of us – yes, every single creature – has been given a gift to share for the good of all. (I Corinthians 12:3b-13) And then, when Jesus returns to the frightened apostles after the resurrection, his first words to them are: Peace be with you. And then he says it again. Peace be with you. (John 20:19-23)

This past Sunday was Holy Trinity Sunday and the readings are no less magnificent. God created us in God’s own image and declared us good. (Genesis 1:1-2:4a) God has crowned us with glory and honor and given us dominion over the works of God’s hands. (Psalm 8) Jesus promises to never leave us. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age. (Matthew 28:16-20)

All of these Holy Scriptures are empowering, freeing, liberating, peace-filled, and relationship-nurturing. So what do we do about all of this power, peace, and gifting we have received? Well, this particular Sunday, Holy Trinity Sunday, marks a decision point. We’ve spent the past six months walking the journey with Jesus. Now he has returned to heaven and given us the Holy Spirit to continue God’s work on earth. Will we heed the call?

Yes, we will. Saying yes changes everything and yet it isn’t that complicated. This season is sometimes called Ordinary Time. I like that. It seems appropriate. We go about our Ordinary Business wherever we are – but we go about it in a new way, a transformed way, being conformed to the image of Christ. We love our neighbors out of a response to all that Christ has done for us through the power of the Holy Spirit. We breathe. We rejoice. We laugh. It’s never about what we do – God works in every single moment of our lives whether we are washing dishes or building skyscrapers. It’s about the how we live our lives. As John Wesley instructed, let us do all the good we can, by all the means we can, in all the ways we can, in all the places we can, at all the times we can, to all the people we can, as long as ever we can. We can safely leave the outcomes to God who has our eternal best interests in God’s care.

So where to begin in this season of Ordinary Time? The best place to start is with prayer. When we’re feeling anxious, restless, hopeless, or panicked, we can remember that Jesus came to bring us peace. Take him up on it. Close your eyes, breathe deep, and say a prayer. Ask for that peace. There’s no limit so ask early and ask often. You are an amazing, unique creature, and your Creator is waiting to hear from you.

After Thoughts: Christmas Day

Hello. My name is Beth. I am a star. Not like Elizabeth Taylor or Nicole Kidman though. I am a heavenly star. And something wonderful happened to me one night. But before I tell you about that, let me tell you a little about us stars.

God made the first stars on the fourth day of creation, before He made animals, plants or humans. (Genesis 1:16) So we stars have pretty much been around since the beginning. We’ve played various roles in the history of the world. God told Abraham to look up at us and try to count us. (Genesis 15:5) As unbelievable as it sounded to Abraham, God promised that his offspring would outnumber us. Like all God’s promises, that one was accomplished.

As lovely as we are, we are only creations of God, just like you humans. We are not to be worshipped (Deuteronomy 4:19), rather our light is to shine to the glory of God. Throughout time, humans have gotten that wrong. Kings Ahaz (2 Kings 17:16) and Manasseh (2 Kings 21:3), to name two, worshiped the host of heaven. That would be us, the stars, along with the moon and the sun. But God kept trying to bring the people back to Him. You see, we are to worship the Creator, not the creation. Nehemiah told the people that it was God who had made the heavens with all their host (Nehemiah 9:6), and the psalmist says we stars were created to rule over the night (Psalm 136:9).

When you look up, you see so many of us that you may not realize each one of us is uniquely created, just like you. In fact, God knows each of us by name (Psalm 147:4; Isaiah 40:26). And He commands us to worship him. Psalm 148:3 puts it like this: Praise him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars.

So you see we have more in common than you may have realized. We are both, we stars and you humans, created by God to worship him. For those of you who lead many to righteousness, you will shine like us forever and ever (Daniel 12:3).

That brings me to the night that changed everything. And I was there. Out of all the stars, God chose me to light the sky the night His Son came to earth. At first, I was nervous. Me? But I’m just a regular star. You see, stars, like people, differ from one another in splendor (I Corinthians 15:41), and I knew by looking around, there were stars better qualified for the job. I wasn’t much more than a nebula, that’s a baby star, not much more than a whirling ball of dust and gas. But God wanted me. Then I reminded myself that God knew my name, He had created me to rule over the night, to drive away the darkness. If He wanted me to do this, I would do it to His glory.

I moved over that manger where the small child was sleeping and I started singing to myself. “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.” And shine I did. As bright as I could. With God’s grace, I burned so brightly that Wise men far to the east saw my light and traveled a long distance to worship Jesus, the Christ.

That night the world was changed forever. God entered into the history of humankind as a small baby to live among the people. I watched it all in awe and wonder at the goodness of our Creator. I watched as Mary and Joseph welcomed their baby, and as shepherds came to witness the miracle for themselves. I hope my light brought some comfort to them. I did my best to give glory to God.

After Thoughts: Fourth Sunday in Advent

Matthew 1:18-25

In this age of reality television, idols, stars, viral YouTube videos, friends and followers, the need to have one’s fifteen minutes of fame seems to be more urgent than ever. “Look at me, look at me.” Good or bad, embarrassing or uplifting, just getting noticed seems to be worth any price – integrity, honesty, loyalty, mercy.

Today’s Gospel lesson is an interesting counterpoint to this perspective. Here’s Joseph, engaged to Mary, and he finds out she is pregnant, but not by him. What does he do? Well, first let’s think about what he doesn’t do. He doesn’t ask why. “Oh, poor me. Why, God, why did this happen? Why me?” He doesn’t get mad. “How dare she! I don’t deserve this.” He doesn’t demand answers or retribution. “Who did this to you? I’ll make him pay.”

No, instead Joseph seems to carefully consider the situation, knowing full well what the law allows (Deut. 22) – up to the point of having Mary brought to the gate of town and stoned to death – and decides to spare Mary, to quietly end this unfortunate chapter and move on. That is grace in action, costly grace that requires Joseph to abandon his legal rights, his manly ego, his human craving for justice, and to let go of an-eye-for-an-eye ideology.

Then, with this decision made, Joseph gets a visit from an angel of the Lord. The angel declares what God wants Joseph to do. Don’t leave Mary. Be her husband. Be the child’s father. “When Joseph awoke, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him.” Decision reversed, again no questions asked, because God commanded it. This won’t be Joseph’s last visit from an angel. A little later, the angel appears warning Joseph to flee from Herod. So Joseph got up and went to Egypt. Herod dies and the angel returns with another message. So Joseph got up and went to Israel. Is there any wonder God chose this righteous man to be the earthly father of Jesus? His silent obedience rings loudly through the years. He is a man of faith in action.

As we stand here at the close of Advent, we greet Joseph, one of the four human parents at the center of this amazing story. Zechariah and Elizabeth welcomed John. Joseph and Mary received the baby Jesus. On Christmas Eve, it is our turn to be parents – nurturers, protectors, and defenders of Divine Love born this night in a humble manger. It is our calling, our joy, and our greatest blessing to welcome this Child. Let us pray then for the silence of Zechariah as we wait in awe for what God is about to do. Let us pray for the discernment of Elizabeth as we recognize the coming of our Lord into the world. May we like Mary bear God’s Good News with rejoicing in our hearts. May we like Joseph faithfully move into action to do the will of God. As all creation groans in labor pains, waiting for the new birth, may we be the ones to bring forth hope and peace because of the promise fulfilled when God became flesh and bone and dwelt among us.