The genealogy of Jesus

Matthew 1:1-17

Searching one’s genealogy has always been a popular hobby, but technology has helped create an explosion in the last decade or so. First, the ability to network on the internet made data collection more powerful as distant relatives could link up with each other without having any previous knowledge of the other’s existence. Finding one distant cousin could suddenly open enormous branches of your family tree that you didn’t even know about.

Then Commercial DNA testing kits offered people an even deeper and more precise view of their history. Marketing for these kinds of products include slogans like “Give yourself the gift of you.” Not only do these kits provide DNA evidence of your ethnic makeup, but they add you to vast databases that can link you to known genealogical studies.

The study of one’s genealogy can be enlightening. There are important medical and biological things one can find out about themselves. There are other deeper and more meaningful stories that genealogy can link you to. The popularity of the PBS show “Finding Your Roots” has revealed how powerful an in-depth story of genealogy can be.

Watching “Finding Your Roots” however, has revealed to me what a privilege it even is to have a genealogy. While everyone has people from whom they came, not everyone has the privilege of being able to study that list of ancestors. Genealogy is able to be studied by those who have the privilege of having ancestors who left a paper trail. Those held in bondage as property did not always leave a trail. Many people have had their genealogy erased by the institution of slavery. What’s more, there have been many people who have had their existence erased in the telling of family stories.

LGBTQIA+ people have often been erased from family histories. Either the person has been wiped from the family memory entirely or their “queerness” has been removed. They have become the “eccentric uncle” or the “confirmed bachelor.” Sometimes, if they weren’t willing to erase that essential part of who they were themselves, they have simply been scrubbed from the history. They were left out of the stories, cropped from the photo albums, and left uninvited to the reunions. Generations of queer people have been erased from families, exiled to be virtual orphans because their family of origin perceived their existence to be too shameful to bear.

The privilege of a family genealogy and history has been stolen from countless people because they are LGBTQIA+. The history of millions of people runs into a dead end when they get back to the auction blocks. Knowing your genealogy is a privilege that many take for granted.

Today we read Matthew’s version of Jesus’ genealogy. Often one’s first impression of this genealogy is that it is dry, boring, and easy to be skipped. It feels like a list of hard-to-pronounce names that no one remembers. While Matthew frames Jesus’ genealogy in an interesting way (14 generations from Abraham to David, etc.) it still feels like a pretty easy part of the story to skip.

Until you notice the mothers. When you consider the mothers of Jesus’ genealogy, a more interesting (one might even say sordid) story is told. The fact that these four women are lifted-up is a remarkable thing. Matthew refused to erase Jesus’ family history. In fact, he highlighted some of the more difficult parts. He took the stories that could have been stories of shame and pointed them out. He could have skipped these mothers of Jesus. It would have been easy to skip over the sordid story of Tamar and Judah. He could have left out the prostitute Rahab. He could have left out Ruth the Moabite who “uncovered the feet” of Boaz. He didn’t have to mention Uriah, who was killed by David so that he could hide his assault of Bathsheba.

These women, all victims of a patriarchal system that devalued them as humans, were all lifted-up as mothers of Christ. They were all victims, but none of them allowed themselves to remain as such. They persisted. They used their agency, their strategic minds, and their grit to achieve survival. All four women have an element of sexual scandal attached to them, and by putting their names in the genealogy of Jesus, Matthew puts those scandals right in Christ’s history too. Matthew shines a light on the stories that some may deem shameful. He makes sure to remind everyone that Jesus’ history is fraught with humanity – messy, sordid, triumphant, and persistent.

As we read the genealogy of Jesus, we can give thanks to the controversial mothers who refuse to be ignored. I hope that we take a moment to lament the stories that have been erased. I pray that we, like Matthew, have the courage to tell the stories of the messy, the triumphant, the sordid, and the persistent. For these are the stories that give us meaning and hope. These are the stories that invite us into Christ’s eternal story of redemption and love for all – even the ones that others want to erase.

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Inspiration and Purpose

IGRC For Unity Devotional for October 16, 2022

2 Timothy 3:14-4:5

Thomas Edison famously said that “Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.” The writer of 2 Timothy claims that Scripture is 100% inspiration. Yet what is inspiration? The Greek word translated to “inspiration” is theopnuestos. In this word we can see the roots for “God” and “Breath.” So inspired seems to literally mean “God-Breathed.”

Is this the same however, as God-authored, or God-dictated? It seems to me that the leap from “inspired” to infallible or inerrant, as some make, stretches credulity. Scripture is inspired by God, but what does that mean?

Inspiration is often described as a moment. It is the moment a tune enters a song-writer’s head. Whistled out of nowhere as they walk through the park. The birthplace of the tune cannot be located or named. It seems to have breathed out of the artist from nothing. The painter sitting at the easel begins to create. Why does the brush move the way it does? How is each color chosen, mixed, and applied?

There are years of work, study, technique, and practice behind every stroke of a brush. The same is true behind every note of a trumpet of the jazz player. Yet in that moment when the air pushes through the instrument or when the brush touches the canvass, that is inspiration. Is that a God-moment? Some artists would certainly attest to being inspired by God. Few however, would say that God moved the brush. The inspiration moved the artist, and the artist created. God and humanity are co-creators of things inspired.

More important than the nature of inspiration however, is the purpose of that inspiration. Scripture has a purpose. It is “so that the person who belongs to God can be equipped to do everything that is good.”

Too many use Scripture for harm. They use it to perpetuate preconceived prejudices. They use it to strengthen their flimsy understanding of biology, history, and culture.

“They will collect teachers who say what they want to hear because they are self-centered. 4 They will turn their back on the truth.” They build echo-chambers of their opinions, ignore evidence and science and instead listen to rumors, click-bait YouTubers, or conspiracy theorists with an agenda. Scripture is meant to lead us to good and not harm.

If your use of Scripture is not doing good, then you’re using it wrong. Scripture is inspired by God and is meant to inspire good. God who is good created humanity who is good, and gave us Scripture to help us find the good and do good in the world.

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Will we still fear the “giants in the land”?

There are moments when I read a passage of Scripture and think, “how can this possibly apply to the real world?” Sometimes Jesus’ command to “turn the other cheek,” his call to “release the captives,” or the Torah’s system of forgiving all debt feel like impossible dreams that couldn’t work in modern society. Other parts, like Jonah being swallowed by a fish, Balaam’s donkey speaking to him, all the water in Egypt turning to blood, or Paul reviving a man who fell out of a building push my understanding of how the world works, and feel more like the stuff of legend than history.

Then sometimes I read a passage of our story and it screams at me with its authenticity and timeliness. Numbers 13-14 is one of those stories that feels incredible because of how credible it is.

The people have fled Egypt. They have traveled through the wilderness. They have received the Law of God and are now on the brink of the Promised Land. Promises made to Abram 500 years ago are about to be fulfilled. They have lived through a series of signs that defy understanding. They have witnessed the destruction of the greatest army in the world. They have journeyed through a difficult terrain. Now on the borders of Canaan, they send out scouts into the land.

The report is mixed. The land is everything that had been promised. It is fertile—flowing with milk and honey. But it is occupied. There are people there, and they are strong. They have cities and fortifications. Occupying this land is not going to be easy. They have been through so much together and now they stand on the precipice of something new, and they are fearful.

There is no question that the task in front of them was daunting, but they brought back with them fruit of the land. A couple of the scouts reported that they should move into the Land despite the obstacles, knowing that God would be with them. Think, after all, of all they had seen God do for them up to this point. Caleb and Joshua believed that with God on their side, they would be able to move into Canaan, even with the difficulty that lie in front of them. And then the story gets real. Like, uncomfortably, unnervingly timely:

“But the men who went up with him said, “We can’t go up against the people because they are stronger than we.” 32 They started a rumor about the land that they had explored, telling the Israelites, “The land that we crossed over to explore is a land that devours its residents. All the people we saw in it are huge men. 33 We saw there the Nephilim … We saw ourselves as grasshoppers, and that’s how we appeared to them.”

They ignore the evidence (the fruit in their hands). They make up rumors. They say they saw Nephilim (a legendary people with an obscure reference in Genesis that talks of a race of giants who were related to angels. The stories of the Nephilim were much like ancient Greek stories of the cyclops or centaurs. They were a legend that most understood as fiction, but were still a source of cultural fear).

Instead of trusting the evidence—the land is fruitful, not terrible. Instead of trusting God who had delivered them already, the people were gripped by the fear of lies and rumor. Then this is the part that feels truly familiar. They decide they want to go back to Egypt.

Progress is scary. The unknown future of a new land and a changing people was too much for them to face, so they decided that they would rather go back to a simpler time. Nevermind that in that time they were slaves. Nevermind the struggle that they have overcome thus far. Nevermind the promise of God to lead them to a better place. The fear was too much and the people wanted to go back.

And here we stand. We have been through so much as a people. We have overcome. We have seen God do great things. We have been through the wilderness and have experienced God’s provision through the difficult times. There is still much to overcome. The future has real obstacles. We have real difficulties in front of us. Are we going to fall prey to a toxic sense of nostalgia? Are we going to listen to the rumors that destabilize our society? Are we going to believe the lies that there are “giants in the land?” Are we going to fear the boogeymen and regress back to Egypt? Are we going to submit ourselves to slavery again?

Or will we trust in God? God showed great signs and wonders and overcame Pharaoh. God delivered the  people from slavery and brought them to the brink of the Promise. Will we trust in the promise of God or the lies of the fearful? We face a turning point as a people.  Where will we place our trust?

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Jesus forgave them from the cross, but didn’t come back to hang out with them.

Forgiveness is at the heart of Christianity and is an important theme in the Gospel of Luke, in particular. In this passage we have the famous line, “Father forgive them, for they know now what they do.” It is statement that is unique to Luke’s story, and it is emblematic of Jesus’ entire ministry. That words of forgiveness were on his lips as he breathed his last are fitting.

Looking backward and forward you see that forgiveness is a part of the message. Even before Jesus was born, John the Baptist was preaching about forgiveness. After the resurrection, Jesus’ last command before his ascension is for the disciples to bring the word of forgiveness to the world.

Forgiveness is an integral part of the Kingdom of God. That Jesus himself forgave others was a part of why he was even on the Cross. The tensions between him and the religious leadership began when Jesus started to forgive sins.  In chapters five and seven, Jesus heals someone in front of the religious leadership. They are not upset with his healing, but they grumble when he claims to forgive their sins.

In the prayer Jesus taught us, our own forgiveness seems linked to the forgiveness we offer to others (that was always my least favorite part of the Lord’s Prayer). Forgiveness, both receiving and offering, is an important part of the Christian faith.

Modern psychologists and social scientists agree. Forgiveness is an important part of a healthy life. Many studies have been done to show that forgiveness leads to greater health outcomes—both physical and mental. Forgiveness is an act of tearing down boundaries. Sin can be seen as something that destroys relationship. It puts obstacles between people and between people and God. Forgiveness is the act of tearing down those obstacles and restoring right relationship. Forgiveness is the path toward shalom.

God’s shalom is the origin of all creation. Shalom has been lost, but restoring Shalom is the purpose of Jesus’ life, ministry, death, and resurrection.

Yet rushing into forgiveness is not true forgiveness. One cannot get to forgiveness without first processing pain, experiencing anger, and allowing time and space for forgiveness to take root. Forgiveness cannot be forced upon anyone. Forgiveness is not the same as acting nice for propriety’s sake. Forgiveness is not about making everyone get along so that we can have a picture of a happy family for the Christmas card.

Forgiveness is about returning to yourself. It is about getting past barriers of pain, fear, resentment. Forgiveness restores our hearts, but it does not always lead to restored relationship. Jesus forgave those that mocked him while he was on the Cross, but when he came back on Sunday morning, he didn’t hang out with them. He broke bread with his disciples in Emmaus, not with the leaders and soldiers who mocked him. He forgave those who hurt him, but he didn’t come back to them. Dr. Thema Bryant first pointed this out to me at a lecture I attended, and it hit home.

Jesus forgave those that mocked him. It was an incredible act of grace in the midst of his pain and suffering. He looked down at those who had hung him on that tree, felt compassion through all of the pain and suffering, and forgave them. It is a powerful moment in the Gospel of Luke and should never be overlooked. But as Dr. Bryant pointed out to us, when he came back, he didn’t hang out with the soldiers and the leaders and the people who insulted him. He came back to be with his friends.

When we go through trauma, abuse, or emotional torment, boundaries are particularly important. It is possible to forgive someone and not walk back into a relationship that will hurt you again. God wills forgiveness in our lives, but God does not will for you to be hurt over and over again.

Reconciliation is God’s ultimate will for all relationships, but on this side of eternity, it is not always possible. Sometimes in order to protect our own shalom, relationships must end. Boundaries are an important part of self care and self love. God wills shalom in your life, and that might mean firm boundaries with some relationships. It means forgiveness, but it doesn’t always mean reconciliation.

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Sometimes it’s okay to flex

Flex: In a little less than three months, I’ve lost 50 pounds.

Truth: That might not be the healthiest thing in the world. Quick weight loss is satisfying, but I’m worried that I’m setting myself up for a big disappointment again. This is the third time in my life I’ve lost 50 pounds, and I don’t want to do this again. 

Flex: I’ve been employing intermittent fasting. On most days I don’t eat until at least 2:00 p.m.

Truth: This sort of happened by accident. I find that when I work out hard in the morning I just don’t get hungry until well past noon. Drinking a lot of water gets me past 2:00 pretty easily most days. Yet at night I still get so hungry. I see a bag of chips and I WANT TO EAT THEM ALL.

Flex: I like how I look in this picture.

Truth: I still see the big belly. I still see the sag. I also see the “likes,” and I read the comments. I feed off of them. People have told me that my vulnerability is inspiring. I’m not sure I post about this stuff to be vulnerable or inspiring. I post this stuff because I know it will get those little hits of approval and affirmation. I know I am getting closer to someone’s idea of health and beauty.

Flex: I’m going to run a 5K on Sunday.

Truth: I’m not going to run the whole thing. I remember when I could run 3 miles and treat that as a warmup. I originally thought that a 36 minute 5K was a reasonable goal, but I quickly realized that was a pipedream. I have adjusted my goals, and simply finishing healthy and pain-free is my top priority. Finishing with my daughter at my side (or probably with her in front of me) will be an incredible moment, but I really hope I didn’t set a goal based on my memory and not on my current condition. Regardless, there will be a part of me that is more disappointed and saddened by my memory than I will be joyful in the moment’s achievement.

Flex: I am a better father, husband, and pastor today than I was three months ago.

Truth: I am selfish and privileged beyond belief. Am I neglecting other responsibilities so that I can have two hours on my own every day? Am I really worthy of all the praise I get? Not everyone can just carve out this time like I have done. Not everyone can just say, “8-10 is my time.” I can only do it because of the support of my wife, my kids, and my church. I believe all my relationships are better because of it, but have I thought enough about what other people need?

Flex: I have improved my mental, spiritual, and physical health over the last few months.

Truth: Part of me thinks that therapy is a waste of time because she doesn’t tell me anything I don’t already know. I wonder if I’m really healthier or if I’m just keeping busier. I wonder if my relationship with food is truly healthy just because I’ve lost weight. There is no question that in general I have been making healthier choices. I choose fruit more. I choose veggies more. I choose protein-rich snacks over salty carbs more. But there have also been times – two or three – when I have eaten an extra piece of pizza or felt a little uncomfortably full, and felt deep regret. I have contemplated making myself throw up. I haven’t done it – but I understand it. I understand the compulsion to just erase a mistake I made with a simple act. One time couldn’t hurt too much, right? So maybe therapy is still a pretty good idea.

So yeah, I’ll flex. I feel so much better today than I did on March 21 (the day before I started going back to the gym). I feel stronger. I have more energy. I have a more positive outlook on life. I feel good, but I also know that I felt this way before. I need to keep flexing, but I need to be aware of the other truths, too.

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Lectionary for Inclusion: Acts 11:1-18

May 15, 2022

Scripture: Acts 11:1-18

The Holy Spirit cannot be contained. This is the fundamental story of Acts. We know this book as the Acts of the Apostles, but I think of it as the Gospel of the Spirit. If Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are the Good News of Jesus Christ, then Acts should be thought of as the Good News of the Holy Spirit. Acts begins with pyrotechnics, rushing winds, ecstatic speech, and a truly wild experience that was a harbinger of what is to come in the rest of the story.

The rest of the story is the Spirit behaving in ways that no one could predict and in ways that not everyone likes. It’s not all lights and flash, but in these middle chapters of Acts the Holy Spirit is doing things no one expected. She sends Philip to Samaria, convicts a sorcerer named Simon. She picks up Philip and compels him to chase down an Ethiopian eunuch. She empowers Peter to speak to a Roman centurion named Cornelius and gives Peter a miraculous vision that changes the way he thinks about the world.

“Do not call anything impure that God has made clean,” a divine voice tells Peter, and in the end of chapter 10, “the Holy Spirit came on all who heard the message… They were astonished that the gift of the Holy Spirit was poured out even on Gentiles.”

Now Peter has some explaining to do. Like a scolded child, Peter is brought back to the leaders of the Church who thought they had the Holy Spirit under control. They criticize Peter for eating with uncircumcised men. He had broken the rules. He had gone against the discipline. So he tells them about his holy vision. He tells them what the Holy Spirit had shown him. He tells them about what the Holy Spirit was doing.

Finally, he concludes, “If God gave them the same gift he gave us who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I to think that I could stand in God’s way?”

Who indeed? Who should stand in the way of what the Holy Spirit is doing? The Gospel of the Holy Spirit tells us that she doesn’t behave in ways we always like. The Holy Spirit doesn’t follow the discipline. The Holy Spirit goes to Centurions and sorcerers. She blinds murderous Pharisees and brings salvation to sexually unclean foreigners.

To me, this might be the single most compelling argument for LGBTQ inclusion in the Church. It wasn’t my idea. It wasn’t a gay agenda. It wasn’t a liberal plot. It was the Holy Spirit’s idea. She started it.

I have seen the Holy Spirit at work through gay pastors. I have seen the Holy Spirit move through churches led by lesbian clergy. I have seen marriages guided by the Holy Spirit between two men. I have witnessed the Holy Spirit at work in “practicing homosexuals.” And if God gave them the same gift he gave to us who are cis-gendered, who are we to stand in God’s way?”

The Holy Spirit is alive. The Holy Spirit is burning in hearts and blowing open doors and changing hearts and lives. The Church should not be the ones to stand in God’s way.

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Season Three

I’m doing it again. I’m five weeks into a new lease on life, and I’m exhilarated and terrified. Did I hit rock bottom? I doubt it. I’m sure things could have gotten worse – and that’s the part that scares me. I’ve done this all before and yet here I am again. I think this time it started with Lent. Considering spiritual disciplines I could take on, I started thinking about the changes I needed to make in my life. I recognized that I was deeply unhealthy.

I don’t need to go into the details, but I looked in the mirror and hated everything I saw. Heavier than ever – way too close to 400 pounds. Aching back, tingling feet, chronic fatigue. I was cruel to myself, “You’re a piece of shit” was my multiple-times-a-day mantra. I hated things that I once loved. I leaned into terrible habits, stopping at McDonald’s between meals, eating handfuls of Oreos before bed, buying candy bars in the checkout line. I ate to experience a small dose of happiness in the midst of a world that was so full of evil, apathy, and pressure. This winter, as the world started to come out of pandemic – even as it lingers – I started to see what I had done and what I had become. I realized that I was slowly killing myself because I was convinced that the world – my church – even my family – would be better off without me. I never harmed myself, but I was destroying myself slowly. I was choosing the slow burn into oblivion.

Then I knew it had to stop. My family deserved better than a husband and father who was slowly destroying himself. Lent came and it was the catalyst I needed to make some changes. I made an appointment with my physician, fearful that I had already done irreparable physical damage as I massaged my toe that hurt for no reason. I found a therapist who seemed compatible and enjoyed our first session even though I knew she wouldn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. We renewed our membership at the local fitness center, and I made a plan to go every day after dropping off the girls from school. I decided to join my daughter in the piano lessons that she started.

I took control. I had a plan. I found a goal – a 5K in June that I decided I wanted to run. I asked my daughter if she wanted to run it with me, and she was excited. I told my daughters that I started going to therapy. I shared with them my struggles, and told them how sad I had gotten. We cried. We hugged.

I started posting pictures of my workouts on Facebook and Instagram. I told people about the theme song I found – “Living My Best Life,” by Ben Rector. I told my girls that every time I get on the elipitcal machine, when I get to the last three minutes of my workout I start playing it and it motivates me to finish strong.

I close my eyes and lip sync “Can’t believe I’m a grown ass man, but you know what they say of best laid plans. But I’m holding on to my daughters’ hands, and I’ve got a reason to live,” and I throw my fist into the air and beat my sweaty chest and go harder. People might wonder what the heck I’m doing, but I don’t care, because “Baby I’m thriving. I’m living my best life. I wake up with the sunrise. It does not look a thing like I thought that it would. I’m getting my steps in, and I sleep with my best friend, It’s the best that has been in a long time.”

And that’s why I’m scared. I’m terrified because I’ve done this all before. This is the third time in my life that I’ve looked at myself in the mirror and hated everything I saw and felt and started to make some changes. Twice before I’ve lost 80 pounds. Twice I’ve started doing 5K runs and felt the addictive joy of trimming times off of my mile. Twice I’ve felt like I had made the kind of permanent changes that would save my life.

So now I’m in season three of the same show. I’m getting my steps in. I’m wearing my Fitbit and tracking my calories. I’m making smarter choices. I’m skipping McDonald’s. I’m choosing fruit instead of fries. I’m making protein smoothies instead of eating sleeves of cookies. I’m finding ways to get to the gym instead of finding excuses to avoid it. I feel good. I’ve lost 20 pounds. My heart rate has improved. I’m getting stronger.

This time I’ve added a few characters and twists to the show. I’m going to therapy, and feel good about having a place to articulate my depressive feelings. I’m inviting my church to participate in the 5K. I’m taking piano lessons. I love the creative outlet. I took piano lessons as a kid and always regretted quitting. I love that I’m doing it – and I love even more that I’m doing it with my daughter. It gives us this beautiful shared experience and shared sense of accomplishment, confidence, and pride.

Things are better right now than they have been a in long time, but I’ve been here before. I’m terrified that I’m going to mess it up again. I’m so scared that I’m going to do all of this work, make all of these changes, and then let it all fall apart again. I post all the selfies and soak in the likes and encouraging comments, but what happens when it stops? What happens this summer when I don’t have the built in reason to get up with my daughters and get to the gym? What happens when I go on a trip for work and there isn’t a gym at the airbnb I’m staying at? What happens if I strain my calf again (which ended season one)? What happens when I take my foot off the gas?

I want to say that this time will be different, but I don’t know that it will be. Season one was ten years ago. I wrote about my first 5K. I knew that time I was doing it for them – for my girls. Season two was four years ago, and I realize now that a lot of that was about dealing with the grief of my Mom’s death. I was doing it for her. This time feels different because I’m doing it with my girls. I’m talking to them about my mental health. We’re sharing our joy of learning piano together. We plan on doing the 5K in June together for Pride Month, which is important to us emotionally and spiritually as well.

Yet I’m still scared that I’ll fall into the same traps. Four years ago – back in season two – I said that “I don’t believe in Before and After.” Do I really believe that?

Four years ago I wrote this:

“I can be good all day, light breakfast, healthy lunch, smaller portions at dinner. Then a few hours pass and I’m cleaning up the kitchen or watching some TV and the hunger sets in. I suddenly want to EAT ALL THE FOOD. One cookie turns into a handful. And a bowl of cottage cheese. And some yogurt and granola. Suddenly all the gains I made all day are gone. I’m not alone. Losing weight is hard. According to some research, keeping it off is nearly impossible. Apparantly it is a natural reaction for your body to be more hungry after losing weight. It’s as if your body is screaming “You’re starving yourself!”

So what’s the answer? I checked out some websites, and basically the only way to maintain this lower weight is to keep doing what I’m doing. In other words, there is no before and after. There is only now and the next choice I make.”

It’s still true. I’m just really hoping that it’s a lesson I’ve finally learned. Considering how low I got this time around, I’m not sure I could survive a season four.

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Call them by name

“Abrazo de Jesus” by Felix Hernandez http://www.felixhernandezop.com/internet.php#

Scripture: John 20:11-19

11 “Mary stood outside near the tomb, crying. As she cried, she bent down to look into the tomb. 12 She saw two angels dressed in white, seated where the body of Jesus had been, one at the head and one at the foot. 13 The angels asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”

She replied, “They have taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they’ve put him.” 14 As soon as she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she didn’t know it was Jesus.

15 Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who are you looking for?”

Thinking he was the gardener, she replied, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him and I will get him.”

16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.”

She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabbouni” (which means Teacher).

17 Jesus said to her, “Don’t hold on to me, for I haven’t yet gone up to my Father. Go to my brothers and sisters and tell them, ‘I’m going up to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”

18Mary Magdalene left and announced to the disciples, “I’ve seen the Lord.” Then she told them what he said to her.


He called her by name, and everything changed.

Weeping, inconsolable, desperate for any information anyone could give, she was stopped in her tracks with one word. Her name.

She was unfazed by two angels standing in a tomb that she just saw was empty. When they were no help, she turned toward a gardener, and cried out, “I do not know where they have put my Lord.” She was searching frantically. She watched him suffer. She watched him die. She could still smell the scent of the oils she had poured over his feet (although this is ambiguous, there is a strong argument by Diana Butler Bass among others that claim that the Mary who anointed Jesus’ feet is this same woman known as Mary Magdalene). The feet she had washed with her tears and hair were pierced in front of her. He was dead.

And now he was gone. Adding insult to shameful injury, he was gone. She must have turned her head again after asking the gardener about him because when he spoke her name the Scripture says she had to turn again to face him.

“Mary,” he said, and everything changed.

Reading between the lines, I am pretty sure that she said “Teacher!” then threw her arms around him and they embraced (Why else would he say, “Do not hold onto me,” unless she was already holding onto him?).

Why didn’t she recognize him? Was he transformed in some way? Was his resurrected form intrinsically different? Was she just too frantic to notice? Was it just too improbable to believe? Whatever reason she did not recognize him, that all changed when he called her by name. He saw her, and she saw resurrection. In that moment she experienced the new life in Christ. She was the first person to experience Easter. She was the first person to witness Resurrection, and she knew it in one beautiful moment when he recognized her first. He called her by name and new life began.

Call her by her name. Call him by his name. Is it too much to ask? She might have transformed in ways you may not recognize. He may have cut his hair shorter than you’re used to. They might use awkward pronouns that you’re not used to using. Call them by name, and you might give them new life.

Call them by name, and they might recognize love that they feared was dead. Call him by name – maybe  not the name you are used to, maybe not the name you know. Call him by the name he has chosen, not the dead name he has left behind.

Call her by name – maybe in clothes you find odd, or after treatments you do not understand. Call her by name because she has earned that much. Call her by name because Christ calls her by name. She has agonized in a prison she was born in. She has hidden for so long. She is fearful every time she claims her name. She is fearful of the strange looks, the scornful whispers, the outright violence that is done to women and men like her every day.

Call him by name.

Call her by name.

Call them by name.

That they might know that they are beloved.

Call him by name.

Call her by name.

Call them by name.

And in that moment they may know eternal life.

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Blessings and Woes

The Sermon on the Mount in Mathew and the Sermon on the Plain in Luke are alike in many ways, and different in more ways then elevation.

Lectionary Text: Luke 6:17-26

The Sermon on the Plain is the less well-known cousin of the Sermon on the Mount. Many of the same themes are there, but they are just different enough to make us squirm. Jesus comes down from the mountain where he named the 12 apostles and “stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples.” This is a level place with a great number of people and a rich diversity. People have come from far and wide to touch him and claim a small part of the power that he held.

Then he shares four blessings and four woes. Blessed are the poor, hungry, those who weep, and those who are hated. Woe to you who are rich, full, laughing, and those of high status.

Some call this as a reversal, but I think it is more of a levelling. For those who have been elevated for their whole lives, a levelling feels like a reversal. Jesus is on a level place. He is the son of Mary, who said that the powerful would be brought down and the hungry would be filled with good things.

The crowds came for healing, but Jesus wants to make sure they know what they are getting into. They are not just being healed. To be a disciple of Jesus is to live into a new community. They are a part of a new Kingdom, a new Kin-dom. This new community, however, is going to be different from what they’re used to. The poor and hungry have experienced pain and isolation. Jesus will show them something else. Disciples of Jesus are fed. They are cared for, provided for, and consoled.

Being a disciple of Jesus should mean that we are creating a community of shared struggle. The Church is a place where the hurting and hungry should come and celebrate the riches that are found in Christian fellowship. Our bread is broken and shared. Our wine is poured out for many for forgiveness and grace. This is a disruption of how the world thinks we should operate. Cultures are built on competition, not community. Society values the victor, not the vulnerable. Being a disciple means that we meet on a level plain.

Being a disciple of Jesus means isolation is over. The old structure of honor and shame is over. The ones who were given shame are now embraced and lifted up. But if you are rich, if you have enough, if you feel comfortable with the system, following might hurt a little. The system has been good to you, but the system is changing.

Your riches are terrible if you’re not helping others. Your abundance is cursed if you are not sharing. Your laughing is mocking those who are forced to dance for your entertainment. Those who have lived in privileged places of white, hetero-normative supremacy have had their time of riches and laughter.

I believe that we are seeing the death throes of those who see that their time has come. When power structures of oppression are called out for what they truly are – white supremacy, homophobia, patriarchy – those that benefit don’t simply step down. The woes are coming. For Jesus, the response was crucifixion. Today, the response is insurrection. But, and how glorious is this but, there is something else coming. We end this passage on the woe, and so maybe its appropriate to dwell in the woe for a little while. The next word in Jesus’ sermon is “but,” and I once heard Bishop Gregory Palmer say that he could write a book called the “Holy Buts” of the Bible. The woes are coming, and perhaps we are witnessing them all around.

But love remains.

In a world of honor and shame, and blessings and woes, love remains. Love enough to speak the truth to those who have been blessed by the system. Love enough to speak good news to those who are beaten down by it. Love enough to welcome all into the Kin-dom where a level place is holy ground.

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The wedding at Cana

Reading: John 2:1-11

A wedding is the start of something. A wedding is a celebration. It is a joyful event. It is a public declaration that a family has been formed and promises have been made. It is a time of worship and celebration, but it is not a marriage. A marriage is a life of choices to keep the promises that were made. A marriage is sacrifices and compromises and celebrations and disappointments. A wedding is a celebration, but a marriage is a relationship.

Jesus ministry starts at a wedding. It is a joyful celebration which begs many questions. Whose wedding was it? Why did they run out of wine? Why did Mary know they ran out of wine? What’s the deal with Jesus’ curt response? Who knew about this “sign” (The Gospel of John does not use the word ‘miracle.’ Instead, the word ‘sign’ is used to describe these actions that reveal the divinity of Jesus).

Some speculate that this may have been the wedding of a relative of Mary. This would explain not only their invitation, but also her position of authority at the party. Most speculate that the families involved were poor and could not afford the amount of wine needed for such a celebration (that some commentators claim may have lasted a full week).

As to Mary’s request of Jesus, we yearn to know more. Did Mary know that Jesus could do such a thing? Had he done it before at home? Why was Jesus reluctant? Why did this seemingly small crisis prompt Jesus to step forward in such a public manner.

In the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) Jesus begins his ministry much differently. In all three of them, the catalyst that starts his ministry is the arrest of John the Baptist. Then he begins with major teaching—either the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew or his reading at his home synagogue in Luke.

Here though, Jesus becomes “public” without really going public. After all, in the end no one really knows about this sign but the disciples and the servants. The headwaiter simply thinks it is an act of extreme generosity by the bridegroom. The servants know what happened, but their response is unrecorded.

We who believe know that this is the start. This is the first sign that Jesus is the Son of God. This is the beginning of the wedding celebration that the people had been waiting for for centuries. A wedding has been a way to describe the messianic hope of Israel since the time of the prophets. A marriage was a metaphor for the relationship between God and Israel for centuries.

Here, Jesus turns water into wine and we know that the wedding has officially begun. This is a celebration. The coming of Jesus initiates a party—an extravagant one at that. One that had over 120 gallons of the finest wine (600+ bottles in today’s measurement).

The Word of God became flesh, and this is reason to celebrate. John tells us that Jesus’ life on earth is a time of joy, generosity, and celebration. It is not a reason for solemnity, fasting, or judgment. At the crucifixion, we find that the party is over. At the moment Jesus was crucified, this sign was reversed. On the cross, Jesus is given sour wine to drink. Upon his death, he is pierced in the side and water comes out. At this wedding water is turned to wine. At his crucifixion the wine is turned back into water. The crucifixion may have been the end of the wedding, but the marriage was just beginning. The ongoing relationship of Jesus abiding with us didn’t end when the wedding was over any more than a new couple’s marriage ends when people leave the party. Discipleship is a marriage.

One of the most important clues to the meaning of this story comes in the very first words. “On the third day.” This wedding happened on the third day. We know what else happened “on the third day.” The third day is the day of resurrection. It is the day of joy, generosity, and celebration. The third day is the end of fasting, mourning, and judgment. This wedding is a foretaste of the Resurrection which we are allowed to live every day.

Jesus’ life—the time when the Word was flesh and walked among us—was a wedding. It was a celebration. It was a time that was marked by turning water into wine, and at his death the wine was turned back into water. Yet this wedding at Cana gave us another clue as to what really happened. On the third day there was celebration again. On the third day there was so much joy it overflowed. On the third day shame was turned to joy. The wedding at Cana was the initiation of Jesus’ ministry and a foretaste of our lives as Christians. The wedding started it all, and in our life of discipleship we will live into the marriage which is abiding with Christ in our lives.

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