Tag Archives: Jesus

Jesus, Mary, and the Generation Gap

Recap of sermon from January 28, 2024

Scripture: Luke 2:41-52, Mary loses Jesus in the Temple

“Kids these days,” has lamented every generation. Ever. The famous song from Bye Bye Birdie goes, “Kids! I don’t know what’s wrong with these kids today! Kids! Who can understand anything they say? Kids! They a disobedient, disrespectful oafs! Noisy, crazy, dirty, lazy, loafers!”

This classic song joins the unending chorus of adults blaming kids and kids not trusting adults. Every generation has always considered younger generations as responsible for the downfall of society, the breakdown of polite culture, and loss of respect. HistoryHustle.com has an article called “The 2,500-Year-Old History of Adults Blaming the Younger Generation” that includes quotes through decades and centuries about the downfall of society

There is nothing that makes me feel older and more out of touch with a younger generation than the popularity of Twitch and E-Sports. If you don’t know what Twitch is, then you’re even more out of touch than me. E-Sports and Twitch both involve people watching other people play video games. Colleges now have E-Sports teams and are building E-Sports stadiums. Network broadcasts of video game basketball and other popular video games have higher ratings than actual NBA games. Being a professional video gamer is a viable option. Twitch star Tyler Blyvens, aka Ninja, is worth upwards of $40 million.

This growing industry is something that I simply do not understand. I loved playing video games as a kid, but I do not understand the desire to sit and watch someone else play Halo, or Call of Duty, or even Madden Football. Yet while I may not understand it, I do not have to ridicule it. I understand it is a passion among many young people, and while I do not have the desire to cheer on my alma mater in an E-Sports battle, I do not see the rise of E-Sports as the downfall of society, as some of my fellow Gen-Xers and Boomers feel that it is.

In the famous story of Mary losing Jesus on their way home from Passover, we have a wonderfully human exchange between mother and son. “Why have you treated us this way? Your father and I were worried?” Has there ever been a parent that did not say or think this about their child at some point? After Jesus responds, the Scripture tells us that “They didn’t understand him.” And then explains, “Mary cherished every word in her heart.”

For parents who don’t understand their kids, and for adults who don’t understand young people, you are in good company. Misunderstanding between parent and child is probably as old as parents and children (I don’t think Adam and Eve had a good grasp on what was happening between Cain and Abel, either).

Mary didn’t understand Jesus when he was 12. When she said, “Child, why do you treat us this way? We’ve been worried,” she could have been any parent, ever. I don’t always get it. I don’t always understand younger people. But not understanding is not the same as ridiculing. Too many adults who once sang along to The Who’s “My Generation” are now singing Bye Bye Birdie’s “Kids These Days.”

I don’t always get it, and sometimes that hurts. Sometimes that’s scary. Scripture tells us that Mary didn’t understand, but that she “cherished these things in her heart.” So we may not always “get” young people, but we can cherish them. Hey kids, I may not always get it, but I cherish you, and I’m sorry for the times I forget that. I may not always understand you, but I will always cherish you.

As Christians, we may not always understand what is happening or what Christ wants of us, but somehow Christ finds us anyway. This does not mean we stop trying to understand, it means that if we should keep searching. Keep questioning. Keep listening. Cherish the journey. Cherish the relationships that we make along the way. While we are looking, worried and anxious, we will end up finding the grace we needed all along.

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The Grandmothers: Ruth

Part three in this four part series on the women in Jesus’ genealogy

According to some ratings statistics, the Hallmark Channel has been the top entertainment network on basic cable in the fourth quarter of the year for several years. They are not the top network the other three quarters of the year. The difference? Hallmark knows Christmas.

The Hallmark Channel website claims that they have a new original movie every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night starting on October 20. That’s 31 new original movies. Well, original might be a stretch. Everyone knows that these movies are all basically the same story. And we’re all okay with it.

The fact that they are full of cliché, trite story lines, predictable plot points, and catalog-model attractive actors, is why we watch. We know what to expect. Like a big platter of Christmas fudge and hot chocolate, there’s not much sustenance, but it feels good to consume.

The Book of Ruth could be read critically. We could question the agency of Ruth. We could wonder about Naomi’s motivations. We could ask what “uncovered his feet” means. We could ask Boaz why he apparently allowed his men to assault other women in his fields. We could lament that the child born to Ruth is called “Naomi’s.” We can bring up issues of trafficking, abuse, patriarchy, and exploitation. These are all worthy questions of the text, and I’m thankful for scholars like Wilda C. Gafney who challenge these kinds of texts—but right now, as I ponder the Grandmothers, I’d rather see the story of Ruth as a Hallmark Christmas Movie.

Let’s plug in the characters. A hard-working woman (Ruth)who has experienced grief and a lot of bad luck. She has a dear friend (Naomi) who is older and wiser, but their bond is secure. New in town, the woman gets a job for a man of integrity (Boaz). He makes sure she is safe and shows he cares about her with little gifts and benefits. Eventually, the older friend arranges a romantic setting for Ruth and Boaz to take the next step in their relationship. They fall for each other, but they have to conquer one more obstacle (the unnamed redeemer). In the end, Boaz and Ruth marry, have a child, and Naomi joins their household. They live happily ever after as the snow falls in town square and the Christmas lights twinkle.

This could honestly be the next Hallmark movie, but there’s one more character who isn’t named in the story. He casts a pall over the entire story, revealed not by any character, but by how Ruth is described.

Over and over she is called Ruth the Moabite. The reader cannot forget where Ruth came from. Like all the women in this Advent sermon series, she is called righteous. Her integrity, friendship, courage, and loyalty leads to the joyful climax of the story—King David is her great-grandson. The righteousness of the Moabite wife leads directly to the birth of King David.

And this stands in direct tension with the other unnamed character—Ezra. The work of Ezra-Nehemiah was probably written at about the same time as Ruth. Though the story of Ruth takes place far before Ezra, they stand as contemporary voices from post-exilic Judah. As the exile ends and the people return to Judah from Babylon, they have a problem. How to rebuild? How do they put life back together. Some have been there in Judah the entire time.

Ezra-Nehemiah poses the twin projects of rebuilding the city wall and the Temple. They are also adamant that the only way to restore the people to their former greatness is to close ranks, stick to their own, and be pure. Among these purity laws is the ban of marrying outside of Israel. Moabites are among the groups specifically named to avoid.

Ezra-Nehemiah and Ruth pose competing understandings of how to move forwards as a people. Ezra-Nehemiah reminds the people of the Law, the rules they must follow, the duty they have to worship, and to protect themselves. Ruth tells a story of love, friendship, and embracing “the other.”

Ruth is more than an a Hallmark Movie. The story is a reminder that when people are in relationship, walls are broken down. Divisions that we put up to protect ourselves crumble. Relating to outsiders is a more fruitful way to be a people of God. “The other” will always be among us. Ezra-Nehemiah thought the answer was to avoid and isolate. Ruth comes back saying love and embrace.

When the writer of the Gospel of Matthew decided to tell the story of the savior of the world, he reminded us of the women that made it possible. He reminded us of Ruth the Moabite. He reminded us of a Hallmark-worthy story of friendship, courage, loyalty, and love. He reminded us that the path to the Kingdom runs through a love story. It seems appropriate that Jesus, the one who told his disciples to “make disciples of all nations,” had a Moabite Grandmother.

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The Grandmothers: Rahab

Part two of four in this Advent series on the women of Jesus’ genealogy.

“Rahab the prostitute” is named twice in the New Testament as a model of faith in action. Both James 2:25 and Hebrews 11:31 praise her and cite her as an example of someone who should be honored. She is named in Matthew 1:5 as one of the mothers in Jesus’ genealogy.

Rahab’s inn seemed to serve as a part of the wall that surrounded Jericho (this was a common way to build ancient cities, with the “wall” being a combination of large buildings and walls forming the perimeter of the city). She received Israelite spies who were sent by Joshua to learn about the city’s defenses. This was the first stage of the Israelite’s occupation of the “Promised Land”

Rahab’s actions are incredible in this brief story. It can be argued that she manipulates three parties, all of whom are much more powerful than her. First, she manipulates the Jericho guard. When they confront her, she sends them on a wild goose chase to find the Israeli spies. Second, she manipulates the spies themselves, keeping them relatively safe but still in a precarious spot when she negotiates for the lives of her and her family. Last, she manipulates God’s plan.

The Exodus tradition is clear about how the Israelites should occupy the land. “I will hand over to you the inhabitants of the land, and you shall drive them out before you. You shall make no covenant with them and their gods.” (Exodus 23:32). Yet Rahab’s story continues in Joshua 6:25 “Joshua let Rahab live, her family, and everyone related to her. So her family still lives among Israel today.”

In other words, Joshua made an agreement with a Canaanite, in direct opposition to God’s decree in Exodus, and this agreement helped lead the Israelites to victory. From the very first battle in the occupation, there were Canaanites who were spared. The agreement between Rahab’s family and the Israelites allowed them both to prosper.

This reveals a deeper tension that is found throughout the Hebrew Bible. There are elements of Scripture that suggest that the Israelites must be pure. They must take total control of the Land and completely destroy all of their enemies. There are truly disturbing calls for genocide found in the stories of occupation. These flow from the promises made to Abraham that are eternal. The covenant of the Land is described as unwavering and pure. The Land belongs to Israel. Period.

But Deuteronomy provides the giant “If.” The ‘if’ is found many places, but is pronounced In the final speech of Deuteronomy. “Now if you really obey the Lord your God’s voice, by carefully keeping his commandments… then the Lord your God will set you high above all nations” (Deut. 28:1). “But if you don’t obey the Lord your God’s voice by carefully doing all his commandments and his regulations… all these curses will com upon you” (Deut. 28:15).

The promises made to Abraham were made for a purpose. Five times in Genesis it is repeated that Abraham is blessed for a reason: to be a blessing  to all (Gen 12:3, 18:18, 22:18, 26:4, 28:14). Deuteronomy backs up this claim, if Abraham ceases to be a blessing to all, then the promises made will turn to curses.

This is an element of the Biblical story that many ignore. As people of God, our unwavering support should be on the side of justice and peace. Drawing direct lines from the Biblical story to modern national politics and wars is a always a fraught endeavor. Within the Bible is a strong tension between isolation from and care for “the other.”

There should be a tension in all of our convictions about what is happening right now in Gaza. Multiple things can be true. Israeli people should feel safe. We grieve the 1,200 deaths and reprehensible violence that occurred on October 7. Palestinian people and children should not be collateral damage, even in the pursuit of terrorists and militants. We grieve the 18,000 Palestinian deaths and the rising humanitarian crisis in Gaza. Hostages should be released. Aid should be given. A path to a just cease-fire must be found.

Antisemitic violence against Jewish people is evil and the rise of it is disturbing. Holocaust-denial is on the rise and needs to end. Islamophobic violence against Muslims is evil and the rise of it is disturbing. The rhetoric and actions of Hamas is deplorable and cannot be justified. The apartheid policies of Israel in Gaza should be challenged and criticized. The death of innocent Israeli and Palestinian people should end. The self-determination of Israeli and Palestinian people should be protected. These should not be seen as political, partisan, or even controversial statements.

I do not have the expertise to untangle the problems in Israel/Palestine, but our Biblical story doesn’t support sweeping generalizations or unwavering support for anything but peace and justice. Rahab the Canaanite saved the Israelites in a city in what is now known as the West Bank and her family lived with them in peace.  There is an Advent hope that a Jewish boy born in a West Bank town called Bethlehem could be the Prince of Peace.

A Pulpit Fiction interview with Walter Brueggemann

A thoughtful piece about avoiding antisemitism by ReformJudaism.org

Jews for Peace is a progressive Jewish voice for peace

Opinion piece from The Forward, an independent Jewish news source that both calls out both Hamas for the terrorism it has inflicted and the government of Israel for mistakes it has made. An excerpt: “Tunnel warfare is dirty, complicated, costly and requires lengthy efforts and campaigns, not the short and swift operations upon which Israel’s military doctrine is built. Rather than weakening Hamas, which is underground, the current Israeli military operation in the strip is killing supporters and opponents of the group alike, inflaming the region, exacerbating anti-Israel sentiments worldwide, silencing political opposition to Hamas inside Gaza, complicating efforts at normalizing relations with Arab countries and achieving precisely what the group wanted in the first place: to reinvigorate the Palestinian cause and force Israel to act in a manner that in essence proves Hamas’ claims.”

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The Grandmothers: Tamar

Part one of four in this Advent series on the women of Jesus’ genealogy.

This Advent I will take four weeks to write about the grandmothers of Jesus. These are the women who were named in the genealogy of Jesus in the first chapter of Matthew. These four women were all either explicitly Gentile or connected intimately connected to Gentiles. Tamar’s father was from a Canaanite city. Rahab was a Canaanite living in Jericho. Ruth was called “Ruth the Moabite,” and Bathsheba was married to “Uriah the Hittite.”

They also all had sordid scandal connected to them. They were all victims of a patriarchal system that valued them more for their womb or sexuality than for their own agency, but they all survived. They all refused to be subjugated, and all four were called “righteous.” History, commentators, and “the religious,” have tried to defile their name. They have been called sinners, adulterers, and harlots, Scripture calls them righteous, and Matthew named them up for a reason.

We will remember the grandmothers of Jesus. We will remember their persistence, their cunning, their loyalty, and their courage. As we prepare for the coming of Jesus, we will remember those who prepared the way for him to come for us.

Tamar, Genesis 38:1-30

The Pharisees asked Jesus when God’s Kingdom would come. He told them a few parables, including one about a poor widow who was denied justice, but persisted in pestering the judge until he granted her justice. Perhaps Jesus was thinking of his Grandmother Tamar while he told the parable of the persistent widow (Luke 18:1-8).

He must have known her story, and that she was the mother of Perez, whose line continued to King David and of course, to Joseph (Matthew 1). Tamar’s story is not one that is told much these days. It comes in the middle of the more well-known story of Joseph and brothers. Wedged in between Judah and his brothers selling Joseph to traders on their way to Egypt, and Joseph gaining favor with Potiphar before getting entrapped by his wife, we get the story of Judah and Tamar.

It is a story with the cringe-factor turned up to 10. It is disturbing on many levels. For one, we are reminded that women’s agency was extremely limited. We are dealing with a patriarchal society where women were extremely vulnerable. Yet through the difficult circumstances, Tamar’s cunning and persistence brings her the justice she deserves.

Judah’s oldest son marries Tamar, but he dies. To fulfill the levirate law (Deuteronomy 25:5-10) she must marry Judah’s second son. This is so that Tamar may live within the clan and get the protection that is due her. It is also to ensure that she may bear a son to “carry on” her husbands line. Onan, her second husband, realizes that giving his brother an heir would mean that his inheritance would be reduced to a third of Judah’s estate instead of half. So he “spills his seed,” (thus giving rise to the “Sin of Onan”) so that his inheritance will not be further divided. As punishment of this evil deed, God strikes Onan down.

Now only one son remains, Shelah, but he is too young to marry. Judah then sends Tamar back to her home to wait until Shelah is of age. After some years pass, Shelah is old enough, and Tamar has not been recalled by Judah (he thinks she is cursed), so she plots her course. When Judah comes to her home town, she puts her plan into action.

She poses as a prostitute at the gate. He takes the bait and sleeps with her. As a deposit for payment she asks for his seal, cord, and staff (all of which would be unique to Judah. This is the ancient equivalent of leaving your ID for a bar tab).

Eventually Judah hears through the grapevine that his daughter-in-law Tamar is a prostitute, and she is pregnant. He cannot bear this shame upon his name, and decides to have her killed. Then she tells him, “I’m pregnant by the man who owns these things.” When he realizes what has happened, he declares “She is more righteous than I.”

It is a crazy story, to say the least. And lest you think, “well, it’s really old, it was a different time,” you should know, it was shocking then, too. And that is the point. Tamar is never judged for her action. In fact, she is deemed righteous. She was denied the justice that she deserved—that Torah demanded. In a patriarchal system that kept women in a perpetually vulnerable state, it was Judah’s duty to protect her. When he failed, she did what she had to do.

Scholars and commentators have not been kind to Tamar. She has been called a sinner, and her inclusion in Jesus’ genealogy a sign that he could redeem even a sinner such as her. Yet neither God nor anyone else in Scripture calls her a sinner. Perhaps our puritanical sexual ethic must be re-thought. Tamar – despite posing as a prostitute and having sex with her father-in-law, is called righteous. She is the original persistent widow who demands—and receives—justice.

That the Torah includes this interlude in the Joseph story suggests that she saved not only herself but helped the development of Judah. Here, he is able to see Tamar in a new light and grow from his mistake. This is a story of Judah’s growth and development. Remember he is the brother who sold Joseph into slavery, but later he is the one who puts his life on the line for Benjamin.

That Matthew includes Tamar in the genealogy of Jesus suggests that she is a part of Jesus’ life, ministry, and legacy. Jesus, the one who criticized the religious for “devouring widow’s homes,” who raised the widow’s son, and told a story of a persistent widow, probably remembered the story of Grandma Tamar.

We should remember her, too. Remember her predicament—the product of a patriarchal system. We should remember her persistence and her triumph. We should remember our grandmothers who overcame patriarchal systems that still exist. Tamar’s cunning and persistence is an important step in the line of Christ. We can honor her by remembering the women who continue to preach, pastor, prophecy, advocate, and work for justice.

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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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Jesus makes a poop joke

The Revised Common Lectionary reading for August 29, 2021

Gospel Reading: Mark 7:1-23

Jesus’ popularity was growing. Crowds were coming. Word of Jesus’ popularity had reached King Herod. Stories of plentiful food and calming storms circulating among the people. Chapter 6 of Mark’s Gospel tells us that “Wherever he went – villages, cities, or farming communities – they would place the sick in the marketplaces and beg him to allow them to touch even the hem of his clothing. Everyone who touched him was healed.”

The Good News of Christ had come. People had bread. People were fed. Even the storms seemed to obey this wandering preacher. The movement was gaining steam and lives were being transformed. Herod wasn’t the only one in Jerusalem who had heard about Jesus. Enter the Pharisees and Legal Experts from Jerusalem. They came to see just what was going on, and what did they see?

They didn’t see the people with enough to eat. They didn’t see people’s lives being restored. They didn’t see the good news preached to the poor and oppressed. They saw the disciples not washing their hands. Germ-theory and best COVID practices aside, this is not what they should have seen. They were students of Torah – they should have seen God’s greatest commandment being lived out. Instead of rejoicing at the love of God and love of neighbor that was overflowing, they saw only the breaking of tradition.

“That’s not how we do it!” They complained to Jesus. “We have rules to follow. We have a discipline to uphold” (Mark 7:5 paraphrased).

They were worried that breaking their tradition could contaminate them. They were worried that if the proper way was not upheld, they would lose their relationship with God. They were convinced that the rules they had created were as important as the Law of God. Jesus, frustrated with their lack of being able to see what was actually happening, reminds them of what truly matters. The rules, well-intentioned as they were – had missed the point.

Quoting Isaiah, Jesus says, “Your worship of me is empty since they teach instruction that are human words. You ignore God’s commandment while holding on to rules created by humans and handed down to you” (Mark 7:7-8).

To get this point across to his disciples, he makes a wonderful poop joke (yes, Jesus makes a poop joke!). What enters the mouth exits the other end and goes into the sewer. The Pharisees were concerned about a rule that mattered about as much as what drains into the sewer. What harms our relationship with God is not breaking human rules. It is denying God’s love. They missed the gospel happening right in front of their face by focusing on what comes to a pile of waste. If they had really been paying attention, they would have seen God’s people being fed instead of hands not being washed.

In the end, we are left to reflect on what are human rules and what is God’s Law. God’s Law is love. Love of God. Love of neighbor. Love each other. Love yourself. To deny these aspects of love is to ignore God’s commandment. Jesus differentiates between human rules and God’s Law is love. Human rules should help us follow God’s Law. God’s focus is on the heart. So should ours. Focus on the heart. Focus on the love. When the rules and traditions stop helping us do that, they should be ignored. They are worth about as much as what flows into the sewer.

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The Bread of Life

This devotion was published first in the IGRC for Unity weekly email. IGRC for Unity is a group of Illinois United Methodists who have rejected the Traditional Plan for the United Methodist Church and are working to create a United Methodist Church that is truly open to all. These devotionals will be taken from a text from the Revised Common Lectionary, and will often have a theme of inclusion and welcome.

The Revised Common Lectionary readings for August 15, 2021

Gospel Reading: John 6:51-58

The Gospel reading this week is the fourth of a five-week journey through the sixth chapter of John. Known as the Bread of Life discourse, chapter six begins with the feeding of a “large crowd” of people. Interestingly, John’s Gospel does not give a head count. Starting with a youth’s lunch of 5 loaves and two fish. Jesus took the bread, gave thanks, and distributed it to all those who were sitting there. He did the same with the fish. After the meal, the disciples gathered 12 baskets of leftovers.

In the ensuing discussion over what just happened, Jesus says, “I am the bread of life.” He faces opposition from those who do not understand. They compare his bread to the bread of heaven which fell for Moses in the wilderness. This is why this passage begins, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever, and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (John 6:51)

The talk of eating flesh and drinking blood is not a helpful metaphor for a lot of people. It feels overly graphic and a little gross. This teaching however, is a great chance for us to remove the Sacrament of Communion from the blood and violence of substitutionary atonement. Jesus is the bread of life. This is very different from “this is my body, broken for you.” 

For many, the idea that Jesus had to be sacrificed for the sin of the world to appease an angry God is an illogical interpretation of the Trinity. If God is love, the violent sacrifice of God’s Son is not a helpful metaphor. Let me add here that substitutionary atonement is a metaphor. It is a Biblical metaphor, but it is but one of many ways that Paul and early Christians came to understand the atoning work of Jesus. Through the incarnation, life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Christ, humanity and all creation is reconciled to God. 

Unlike what some would have us believe, there are many ways of understanding how this happens. Here, Jesus does not call himself the sacrificial lamb. He does not point to a broken piece of bread. He reminds his disciples that he is the bread of life. He is bread that is plentiful. He is bread that fulfills, satisfies, and leaves no one hungry.

Jesus uses eating as a metaphor to describe the intense and intimate relationship he has with those who believe. We cannot be separated from Jesus any more than we can be separated from bread that we eat. When we read that we are to eat his “flesh” we should remember that it is the “flesh” that is the eternal Word of God. In the prelude of John, we are told that the incarnation happens when “the Word became flesh and made his home among us.”

Now Jesus tells us that by eating the flesh, we have life. Jesus revealed God’s way of abundant life for all people. We are invited to not simply believe, but to abide with him. When we do, we are joined in the eternal life of the eternal Word. We eat the bread – not just at the ritual of Communion – but in the life that is abiding with Christ. 

We abide with Christ and eat the bread when we live in non-violent love and grace. We eat the bread when we live as Jesus lives, eat as Jesus eats, heal as Jesus heals, invite as Jesus invites, and love as Jesus loves. When we do this, we abide with Christ. We eat the living bread and live into eternal life.

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Solitude vs Loneliness

This Lent I have started a new series called “Deeper.” The idea is to take the six weeks of Lent to go deeper with our faith, and to go deeper in our relationship with God. Many of us barely scratch the surface when it comes to examining our relationship with God. This Lent, let’s try and go deeper. Each Sunday I will look at a practice that can help us connect on a deeper level with God. The problem, as I see it, is that many of these things that can help us go deeper, can also have a dangerous side. This Sunday I explore solitude.

Solitude is an important part of the spiritual life. Jesus pursued solitude, and was often drawn out of his own yearning for solitude by the needs of the people. In fact, the Bible story for this sermon includes Jesus withdrawing to a deserted place, only to be ‘tracked down’ by Peter. When Jesus was told that there was a crowd waiting for him, he says, “Let’s go the other way.” I take a closer look at this story, and this aspect of Jesus’ personality that we often forget.

The problem with solitude, however, is that there is a fine line between it and loneliness. The same empty house that can be exhilarating to the exhausted parent can be crippling to the newly widowed. I encourage us all this Lent to “seek solitude and redeem loneliness.”

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Pulpit Fiction Podcast episode 155. Jesus’ sorrow for Jerusalem, and more

Click on the link below to listen to the latest episode of the Pulpit Fiction Podcast. This is the podcast for preachers, seekers, and Bible geeks. Rev. Eric Fistler and I spend about an hour each week with the readings from the Revised Common Lectionary. We have two main Bible study portions as well as segments from special guests, music, and whatever else comes to mind. You can listen directly here, or you can go to http://PulpitFiction.us to get all the show notes, links to what we talk about, and download the podcast to your mobile device and listen anywhere you go.

This episode is for the second Sunday in Lent. The two main readings are the Pharisees warning Jesus and his subsequent sorrow over Jerusalem, and the promise God makes to Abram. Our Psalmist in the field, Richard Bruxvoort Colligan, examines Psalm 27. There’s also a great song by talented artist Amy Cox. Click on the link below to listen now.

Pulpit Fiction Podcast Episode 155

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Are we there yet?

The prophet George Carlin once said, “Have you ever noticed that everyone driving slower than you is an idiot, and everyone driving faster than you is a maniac?” This, I believe is why everyone, to some extant, is a backseat driver.

We’ve all been riding with someone who is either a maniac or an idiot. It can be hard to suppress those feelings when you are quite sure you  will either be dreadfully late or die ina fiery wreck.

Have you ever driven with a backseat driver? I’m not naming any names, but I may have experienced it from time to time. It can be infuriating to listen to the unwanted advice. “Are you going to turn?” “You’re in the wrong lane.” I think in our heart of hearts, we’re all backseat drivers. Some of us are just more expressive about it than others. As a driver though, have you ever had enough and just said, “Do you want to drive? Do you want me to pull over so we can switch and you can take over?” Have you ever actually done it?

You know who were the worst set of backseat drivers? The disciples. Over and over the disciples have a different idea than Jesus as to where they should be going. Over and over again they think they’re going to restore the Kingdom of David, or they think they’re going to save their friend, or they think they are going to nice people’s homes with nice food and nice customs. And over and over again Jesus shakes his head, closes his eyes, pinches his upper nose (at least that’s how I picture it), and says, “will you please let me drive?” Until finally he does it. He does what every brow-beaten driver has dreamed of doing. He pulls over, gets out, and says, “Okay, you drive.”

This is the story that is known by many Christians as The Ascension. It is the end of the Easter season, but not yet Pentecost. It is the hinge upon which the writer of Luke and Acts connects those two works. The Gospel of Luke ends with Jesus being taken up to heaven and the disciples worshiping, and then going to Jerusalem. Acts, which is the sequel, picks up with a quick intro, a “Previously on…” and then tells the story of Jesus’ ascension with a little more detail. Jesus, in his last act on the earth, tells the disciples that they will soon be baptized with the Holy Spirit. They ask, “Lord, are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel now?” Read: “Are we there yet?” They figure this must be it. They’ve been with this guy for so long, surely this is finally the time. Instead, Jesus tells them, “It isn’t for you to know the times or seasons that the Father has set by his own authority. Rather, you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses to Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.” Then he leaves. This body, which had already defied the laws of physics by appearing in locked rooms and disappearing at dinner tables, is ‘lifted up.’ Jesus is gone.

He actually does it. He gets out of the car and says, “You drive.” So we took over, and just think of all the places we’ve gone.

We’ve taken it through building empires, inquisitions and crusades.

We’ve taken it through the suppression of science, the trial of Galileo.

We’ve taken it to grand cathedrals built on the backs of the poor to prop up the powerful.

We’ve taken it to explain plagues and keep people in the dust and shame in the shadow of an angry god.

We’ve taken it to the subjugation of women and used it to justify untold abuses and violence.

We’ve taken it to manifest destiny, claiming God as the motivation of the genocide of a people.

We’ve taken it to enslave a people based on their race.

We’ve taken it to Holocausts and concentration camps.

We’ve taken it to marginalize the LGBT population.

Jesus left and left us in charge and we used the power to subjugate those who look wrong, act wrong, pray wrong, love wrong, and were born wrong. We keep getting off course. How many times have we lost our way?

The thing is, Jesus gave us directions. He told us the way. The problem is, the directions seemed a little vague. Go to Jerusalem, then Judea, then Samaria, then the ends of the earth.  Now, I can’t help but think that Jesus really screwed up with this one. I mean, I’ve threatened to get out before, but I’ve never done it. I’ve never once let my kids actually take the wheel because I know that things wouldn’t go well. And if I did get out of the car and let the kids drive, would anyone blame them for driving off the road and crashing into a tree? No. I would be blamed.

And what kind of directions are those? Is there any wonder we’ve veered off course from time to time? So we stop and lament and cry out to God. We shake our fist at the sky and say, “Why?” and we wonder why we aren’t there yet.

Then the angel of the Lord appears and asks, “Why are you looking at the sky?” The answer is not in looking to the sky. As much as I’d like it to be, the answer is not above in the clouds. The answer is not going to come down. The answer is not in the right orthodoxy or the right prayers or the right creeds. As much as I wish Jesus had stuck around for a little while longer, maybe it is time to stop waiting for Jesus to come, and start acting as if Jesus is already in our midst.

Instead of looking up, waiting for Jesus to give us the simple answer, we need to be reminded of the directions he actually gave us, and start looking out. Jesus gave us the power, and Jesus gave us directions. “Go and testify to me to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and the world.” Start in this city, then out into the countryside, then into enemy territory, then to all the world.

Testify to the love of Jesus Christ. Testify to the way that Jesus lived. Testify to the hearts that were changed, the hungry that were fed, the unwelcome that were invited. Testify to the love that was willing to go even to the cross. Testify to the faith that sent two women to look for him at the tomb, and only to be asked, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” Testify to the love that conquered the grave. Testify to the love that stands among you, scarred from the nails but still willing to reach out and embrace those who had abandoned and denied him. Testify to the love that knows not manipulation or coercion. Testify to the love that is not of armies and force and restoring kings and sitting upon thrones. Testify to the love that is the Kingdom of God, the love that says that all are welcome, all are free, all are filled, and all are loved.

Go to the ends of the earth to testify to Christ’s love, but start with your own heart. Start in your own cities, in your circles. Testify to Christ’s love to strangers and even enemies. Go to the ends of the earth, and stop looking up. Stop looking for the living among the dead. Instead look out. Look out to your neighbor.  Look out to the one who is despised. Look out to the sick and the poor and the hungry. Look out and find Jesus not in the clouds, but among the least of these, his brothers and sisters.

We won’t find the answers as long as we keep looking up. Look out and be inspired by those that are following. Look around you and see the others that have figured out the way, who know the truth that we won’t find Jesus in cemeteries or the sky. We’ll find him on the journey. We’ll find him when we follow his directions.

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