On Rendering to Caesar and Costly Perfumes

There are several gospel stories that are told during this week between Palm Sunday and Easter. It’s fascinating how much teaching he was able to do in those few days. Some scholars are convinced that historically Jesus would surely have been arrested immediately after the disruption in the temple. But none of the gospels present it that way.

Regardless of that, the teachings that occur during this period are significant. One familiar one has to do with whether it was lawful to pay taxes to Caesar. This was a trap, of course. If Jesus had said yes, then he would have been considered a traitor; if he had said no he would have been guilty of sedition. Instead, he asks them, (Luke 20:20-26) to produce a Roman coin. This was very clever because when they do, he has already won his argument. Without saying a word, Jesus has signalled to anyone watching that his questioners are violating purity by carrying foreign money in the temple precincts. Nonetheless his answer to them is the most important: “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and give to God what is God’s” Jesus dismisses Caesar and negates his authority by relegating Caesar’s power to a mere coin. All the rest of us belongs to God.

In another scene a woman comes attends to Jesus by anointing him with oil. Her devotion is boundless as she uses an expensive ointment for this. When she’s rebuked by the disciples (John says it’s Judas) Jesus applauds her. She’s the only one in the room who knows what’s really important and where to put her treasure.

As we make our way through Holy Week, you might want to re-visit some of these stories. Read just the ones that occur after his entry into Jerusalem and before the Last Supper. You’ll find there many that are familiar and maybe a few that you hadn’t remembered. Put them all within the context of the last week of his life; you may find their meaning for you will change. This time in our journey can shape how we see things around us and especially how we understand Jesus’ life and ministry.

Peace,
Pastor Bill

O, Sacred Head…

Holy Monday just seems like an oxymoron to me. I’ve yet to awake on a Monday that seemed very holy. But this is Holy Week. It’s those few days between Palm Sunday and Easter when we might find ourselves wondering where things went so wrong. Jesus enters Jerusalem to the adulation of the crowds and before we know it he’s being nailed on a cross.

I suppose that’s descriptive of much of our lives. We move from one interest to another so quickly that it isn’t hard to imagine our being a part of what’s done to Jesus. Every now and then, this time of year, the question is raised, “Did Jesus have to die?” I think I even remember seeing that question on the cover of Time magazine one year. As I recall the scholars they interviewed weren’t very satisfactory in their answers. But I don’t think it takes much knowledge really to answer it. Given who we are and given who he was, there could be no other way.

A few years ago a man was killed in France, in the village of Taize. His name was Brother Roger and he was the founder of the Taize community, an ecumenical monastic community in southern France that originally participated in the hiding of Jews from Vichy French authorities during WW II. Brother Roger’s vision was of a community of Christians who would commit themselves to prayer and hospitality. Today thousands flock to Taize every year to experience that with the brothers who live there.

But a few years ago, I think in 2003 or 2004, Brother Roger was murdered by a man who seemingly had no motive at all. In reflecting on that murder one of the other leaders said it happened because there was a light about Roger that some just couldn’t tolerate. He was so accepting of everyone; his love for those he encountered was so evident, that his murderer simply couldn’t stand it.

There are those in the world who cannot tolerate the light. The have to snuff it out, no matter what the cost to themselves and to the world. I don’t know if that makes them particularly evil, but it does prove them to be overwhelmed by their sin. And I think we all do that in small ways every day. The light enters our lives and we turn away from it. Opportunities for love and compassion present themselves and we ignore them or reject them outright. We may not do anything as drastic as the man who killed Brother Roger or those who called for Jesus’ execution, but still we snuff out the light in small ways all the time.

In that sense, I suppose, Jesus had to die, or at least someone was bound to kill him. Recognizing our complicity in that even now is a step toward our redemption. Learning to be aware of our connection to those who sought Jesus’ end and to God who forgives our sin is the journey of Lent that we walk every day of our lives.

Peace,
Pastor Bill

Palms and Passion

Palm Sunday is upon us. We begin our journey now through Holy Week. The church has had a tendency, at least among Protestants, to put far more emphasis on the joyful entry of Jesus into Jerusalem on this day than on the other side of things which is the Passion.

This week marks our commemoration of Jesus’ passion. We walk with him into Jerusalem joyfully but run away as soon as things go sour and leave him to his fate. There’s a certain kind of sadness beneath our celebration, or at least there should be, I suppose.

This is the week we come face to face with who we really are in the light of Christ. Fred Craddock, a preaching professor and New Testament scholar, says when the light is turned on we call scuttle toward the corners like cockroaches in a kitchen. For some of us this can be a time of reckoning. The light of Jesus’ presence can blaze very brightly this week. Will we step into it or move further back into darkness?

Of course, it’s only a week like every other. The light of Christ is always ablaze and whether we’ll respond is always a question. What compels you toward it? Or keeps you from it?

Peace,
Pastor Bill

To Love God Is to Know God

Possibly my favorite passage of scripture is I John 4:7-8: “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love.”

Love is a hard thing to define and pin down. When the Bible speaks of love it isn’t talking about sentimentality or romance. Love sometimes is hard as flint. But I don’t think it can be used cynically, such as, “I’m hurting you because I love you.” In our hands love has potential to be immensely destructive, just as everything in our hands has that potential. I don’t think we can haul out love as an excuse for every nasty thing we might say or do to one another. If it’s genuine it will build up and not tear down.

I came across a nice quote from Robert Capon, the Episcopal priest and writer. He writes, “When all is said and done, what the world most needs from the church is not so much instruction about the nature of the mystery as a glimpse of the mystery itself operative in us.” That mystery is love.

How is God’s love operative in us? How are we able to show others God’s love at work in the world? I suppose it begins by accepting the reality of that love for ourselves. Too many of us are convinced we live beyond the pale of God’s love. Learning to accept God’s acceptance, joining a club that would have us for members to paraphrase Groucho Marx, may be the beginning of knowing love, the beginning of knowing God.

Peace,
Pastor Bill

Thin Places

Celtic tradition speaks of “thin places” where the barrier between the material and spiritual worlds is permeable. Usually that’s associated with a particular location. But I think we Christians have our own thin places. We come across them especially in prayer. But there are other places in our lives where the barrier seems to drop or become diaphanous.

As we approach Holy Week I find myself trying to be especially aware of those places in my life where I can encounter the presence of God more nearly. Sometimes that happens through music. The music during Lent is often set in a minor key. Many people find this depressing, but I find it compelling. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m naturally melancholy. Whatever it is, I find myself drawn closer to God through the music of this season.

Becoming aware of the thin places in our lives, I think, is one of the great joys of the spiritual life. It is a marvelous gift to be in the presence of God, to realize that we can never truly be beyond God’s grasp (Psalm 139 comes to mind).

Where are the thin places in your life? Where do you go physically or spiritually to find them?

Peace,
Pastor Bill

A Shocking Reality

Well, it’s the fifth Sunday of Lent. Next Sunday is Palm Sunday and the beginning of Holy Week. We move ever closer to the commemoration of Christ’s death.

There are many who find that death objectionable, or at the very least offensive. That’s not new. Paul ran into that all the time. In Acts he’s reported to have come across a group in Athens who found the whole idea of someone like Jesus dying and rising from the dead laughable. They didn’t so much deny that it could happen, but that it would happen to someone so weak.

There may be some echoes of that in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians. “We preach Christ crucified,” he tells them. “A stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles.”

Most folks in the church, though, seem fairly comfortable with it. I ran across a nice quote from Dorothy Sayers who wrote, “In is curious that people who are filled with horrified indignation whenever a cat kills a sparrow can hear the story of the killing of God told Sunday after Sunday and not experience any shock at all.” We should find it shocking, shouldn’t we?

Yet here we are approaching yet another Palm Sunday, preparing to enter yet another Holy Week, and our attention is on everything under the sun except this horrible reality. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism. Maybe the reality of it is too much to dwell on. Yet there’s no avoiding it. God dies. We can object to it all we want; we can ignore it all we want, but we cannot change it.

The question we each must ask within our own hearts is: How does God’s death matter to me? Listen to your spirit for the answer.

Peace,
Pastor Bill

Unburden Your Spirit

Psalm 51:1-12
This is the psalm in this week’s lectionary. It is powerful. Nowhere is there a better statement of how deeply our sin can mark us. It is attributed to David after his being accused by Nathan of his infidelity with Bathsheeba.

I remember an episode of a series called “thirty something.” It’s been off the air for a pretty long time. One of the main characters, toward the beginning of the show, had cheated on his wife. He told his friend about it – not to brag, but to relieve himself of it. He said even though it was only once and never happened again and he regretted it, still it was there — a huge chasm in his life he could never cross.

Living with an awareness of our sin can be a terrible burden. If you read the writings of the saints through the centuries you’ll find that each of them were deeply aware of their sin. That awareness, though, may be the surest way of putting ourselves in a place where we can truly open ourselves to God.

Lent is a time of reflection and penance. Penance isn’t so much about punishing ourselves as it is about unburdening ourselves. Letting go of our sin requires recognizing its hold on us.

“Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.” Those are words that can only come from a soul that has looked inward and seen its true self. Now, I am not a doctrinaire Calvinist by any stretch, but I do have a lot of respect for the concept of total depravity. We are not, not any of us, who God intends us to be. Our only hope is to fall back on God’s steadfast love. We have to let go of our sin and unburden our spirits. Verse 17 of this psalm reads: “The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” That is our salvation.

Peace,
Pastor Bill

Reverent Intimacy

From the 14th century mystic Julian of Norwich: “A mother may allow her child to fall, and to learn the hard way, for its own good. But because she loves the child she will never allow the situation to become dangerous. Admittedly earthly mothers have been known to let their children die, but our heavenly Mother, Jesus, will never let us, his children, die.” This struck me as a wonderful use of imagery. I don’t often think of Jesus as mother. But of course scripture speaks very plainly of God as mother, so why not Jesus as well?

It reminds me of Meister Eckhart, another mystic, but of the 15th century I think, who ponders the concept of theotokos, mother of God. He says we are all called to be mothers of God, to become bearers of Christ in the world, like Mary.

Jesus as mother, we as mothers of Jesus, all of it speaks of nurture and intimacy. Our relationship with God and with Christ is intended to be intimate. This came up last night at our class on spiritual disciplines. We were talking about prayer and the model of prayer Christ has given us that begins, “Our Father… ” Intimacy is the first element in that prayer. But not a casual intimacy. A reverent one. Casual intimacy is much too common today. It’s meaningless and at times demeaning altogether. We’re called into a reverent intimacy with God and, by extension, with one another. Think what would happen to the nature of our relationships if we took that reverence seriously.

Lord, help us to live as close to you as a parent to a child; to hold one another in reverence and love.

Peace,
Pastor Bill

Waiting for Spring

Each morning I wait to feel the warmth of spring finally come, but the cold wind still cuts and I still shiver with every step. What is it about spring that feeds us? This time of year, this Lenten time, I long for warm breezes and the sun.

I just read a poem by e.e. cummings. What a celebration of life! I don’t think I can legally publish it here without permission. It’s titled “in Just -” It’s about spring and the joy of it. The dreariness can be oppressive after so many months. I want to see again!

It reminds me of the story in Mark’s Gospel of Blind Bartimaeus. There he sits at the gate leaving Jericho, shouting at the top of his lungs for Jesus to pay attention. All the disciples are appalled. “Shut up!” they tell him.

Then Jesus stops the parade and asks for him. Suddenly the disciples are all over it. “Why are you just sitting there? Jesus wants to talk to you!” (What a bunch of sycophants!) And Mark uses a curious word here: he says Bartimaeus “springs” up from his place. A man blind for as long as he’s been has surely learned from personal experience never to spring up anywhere. I don’t think he’s blind anymore, but still he goes to Jesus and when asked what he wants he says, “Lord, let me see again!”

Sight comes and he falls into line and goes with them on the way. That’s what spring feels like to me. Suddenly able to see again after a very long time. Suddenly alive to the world. I ran across another quote the other night I will share. It’s from someone named Caryll Houselander in the book The Reed of God. It goes: “Christ is the Pied Piper to the human heart. He makes people become little children and suddenly turn the world they live in upside down, because they have been enchanted by him.”

The Pied Piper is calling. Listen with your heart!

Peace,
Pastor Bill

Remembering Oscar Romero

Around this time in 1980, Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated after celebrating a funeral mass in El Salvador. He was a curious figure. In his early years as a priest and bishop he had tended to be a more moderate to conservative presence in El Salvador. He was, I believe, a Jesuit. And during the ’70′s the Jesuits were targeted in El Salvador by paramilitary death squads because of their support for union organizing among workers and care for the poor.

When Romero was elected archbishop it was seen as a safe appointment. But it wasn’t long before he began to speak out against the government and the influence of the “15 families” in El Salvador who held all the power and most of the arable land.

This evening I ran across a quote from Romero, one that inspired the anger of the powerful, I’m sure: “This is why the church has great conflicts: It accuses of sin. It says to the rich: Do not sin by misusing your money. It says to the powerful: Do not misuse your political influence. Do not misuse your weaponry. Do not misuse your power. It says to sinful torturers: Do not torture. You are sinning. You are doing wrong. You are establishing the reign of hell on earth.”

Such a simple message, yet one that frightened the powerful and caused them to seek his death. Romero was a martyr for the sake of the poor and for the gospel of Christ. He understood how the Church in El Salvador had been complicit with the system of abuse that existed there.

In El Salvador it was clear to anyone with eyes. Unjust systems aren’t always that clear, though. In our own country we have more subtle forms of corruption and abuse. In addition we have the uniquely American mythology that says every person should be able to make it in our country without assistance of any kind. The myth of the self-made person is especially powerful in our country. The reality is, of course, none of is self-made. We are all dependent on a huge network of support and infrastructure without which no business could function or prosperity thrive. And we’re certainly discovering the limits of “boot-strapism” as folks make their way to food pantries who have never had to visit one in their lives. This could be an eye-opening time for us.

Are we in the position we’re in because of our sin? Of course. To a degree. I suspect that sin, though, isn’t so much greed as it is idolatry. We have relied too heavily on our economic system, the market, to fix all things. We’ve allowed compassion and care for the poor to become disdainful. We can’t continue to neglect our responsibilities for one another forever without something giving way. I don’t know if God actually causes economic systems to fail, but I suspect when those systems become ends in themselves and not the means toward providing adequately for all, they collapse under their own weight.

Jesus said the poor will always be with us. That doesn’t mean, “therefore, don’t worry about them.” I think it means, “therefore, we will always have this responsibility.” We can’t shirk it. We’re called to embrace it. Just as God embraces us in Christ. And so the conflict between the church and the social order continues, just as Romero said.

Peace,
Pastor Bill