Today, at the Mass of the Lord's Supper, we revisit the night before Jesus died, when he celebrated a final meal with his colleagues According to the Synoptics, it was a Passover meal; the Johannine tradition makes it a friendship meal. Either way, though details vary, the core common witness in the early gospels is that Jesus at table took bread, broke it, declared it his Body, and gave it, then took a cup filled with wine, declared it his Blood and gave it. Then he authorized, we might say ordained, those with him to continue the ritual. From the apostolic age, the authority to say Mass passed to the first bishops and on to bishops and priests right up until today. The ordained minister "stands in" for the Saviour as host at the holy table.
By the time John's very late gospel was in circulation -- early second century -- Mass was old-hat, so the narrative of institution is left out of John. What we have instead is a long sermon by Jesus about His Real Presence in the Eucharist (chapter 6) and then the footwashing narrative (chapter 13). That is the gospel portion we read tonight. The essence of its message is that we, like Jesus, are called to be servants of others in acts of selfless generosity and kindness. Not being biblical literalists, we don't necessarily effect a ceremony of footwashing but rather re-commit to whatever servant ministry will look like in our culture today.
The most important point is that the Eucharist, as sacrament, is the ordinary way in which we as followers of Jesus are fuelled, our batteries charged so that we can go forth into our day and time, being servants of others, friends of the marginalized and persecuted. Thus the Christ who was incarnated in Jesus takes flesh and blood in us who now minister in his stead, strengthened by the Body and Blood of the Lord.
Thursday, April 13, 2017
Sunday, April 9, 2017
Palm Sunday with Dietrich and Martin
Today the purple of Lenten penitence gives way to the red of martyrdom in Holy Week, as we walk the final days of Jesus' journey to the Cross and Resurrection. We begin with the story of triumphal entry, continuing with the final days ending in arrest and execution by Rome for treason. On Good Friday we hear John's very late and stylized gospel. On Palm Sundays, we rotate amongst the three synoptic gospels, this year's being Matthew's text.
As we listen to Holy Week readings, it is important to remember that the four gospels are recruiting manuals, not history books, and that their tales must be read in context, for they reflect not only the good things in the communities that spawned them -- love, compassion, sacrifice and hope -- but also bitterness, disappointment and anger among those in the early Jesus Movement.. We must discern the Scriptures, looking to appropriate the right messages for our lives as Christians today.
The biblical stories must be relevant to us today if they are to have true meaning for us. Let me set forth two Saints in the Episcopal Calendar, neither of whom was Anglican, using them as examples, relating them to today's readings. First. Saint Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a pastor who chose to leave personal safety in New York to return to his native Germany to fight the Nazi menace. There he fought to raise the consciousness of pastors not to go along to get along with manifest evil. Jesus, too, could have remained in safety, remaining in the Galilee, but instead heeded his Father's call to Jerusalem to confront the powers there and to be crushed by them. Sometimes God sends us in a direction we don't want to go. That is part of the risk of taking up one's cross: your life is not your own.
The other figure is Saint Martin Luther King. King could have gained a lot of wealth and fame as a premier preacher, perhaps a televangelist. He could have touted inexpensive Christianity. Instead, after a vision, he chose to fight for justice and an end to racial segregation. He was in Memphis, Tennessee fighting for underpaid sanitation workers when he caught the fatal bullet. In an interview not long ago, a biographer of King was asked why King didn't start a vanguard party to overthrow the government. The scholar answered "the influence of Jesus." King chose the career God had in mind over being simply another big player in the big business of protestant religion. We too are called to put the interests of the Gospel ahead of our own, following Jesus' peaceful model, as we work for the Kingdom in our world. We must be ready to risk all for Christ, as he gave his all for us.
As we listen to Holy Week readings, it is important to remember that the four gospels are recruiting manuals, not history books, and that their tales must be read in context, for they reflect not only the good things in the communities that spawned them -- love, compassion, sacrifice and hope -- but also bitterness, disappointment and anger among those in the early Jesus Movement.. We must discern the Scriptures, looking to appropriate the right messages for our lives as Christians today.
The biblical stories must be relevant to us today if they are to have true meaning for us. Let me set forth two Saints in the Episcopal Calendar, neither of whom was Anglican, using them as examples, relating them to today's readings. First. Saint Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a pastor who chose to leave personal safety in New York to return to his native Germany to fight the Nazi menace. There he fought to raise the consciousness of pastors not to go along to get along with manifest evil. Jesus, too, could have remained in safety, remaining in the Galilee, but instead heeded his Father's call to Jerusalem to confront the powers there and to be crushed by them. Sometimes God sends us in a direction we don't want to go. That is part of the risk of taking up one's cross: your life is not your own.
The other figure is Saint Martin Luther King. King could have gained a lot of wealth and fame as a premier preacher, perhaps a televangelist. He could have touted inexpensive Christianity. Instead, after a vision, he chose to fight for justice and an end to racial segregation. He was in Memphis, Tennessee fighting for underpaid sanitation workers when he caught the fatal bullet. In an interview not long ago, a biographer of King was asked why King didn't start a vanguard party to overthrow the government. The scholar answered "the influence of Jesus." King chose the career God had in mind over being simply another big player in the big business of protestant religion. We too are called to put the interests of the Gospel ahead of our own, following Jesus' peaceful model, as we work for the Kingdom in our world. We must be ready to risk all for Christ, as he gave his all for us.
Sunday, April 2, 2017
Lent V: Death
Early yesterday, I stopped into a Quick Trip for coffee and breakfast to go, enroute a Commission on Ministry meeting in Oklahoma City. A gent in a farm cap spied my blacks, sidled up to me quietly, and said, "Sir, why is there so much evil in the world?" That is not a theological question I was keen to dig into at 7 a.m. before coffee. But I couldn't ignore the question, so I talked about a free universe in which bad things can happen and noted that our task is to fight evil. He said he does that every day, and with that our encounter ended.
Often when we think of evil, we think of death. And while it is true that death can be seemingly unjust and untimely, even tragic, depending on the timing and circumstances, and while it can be accompanied by horrible pain and suffering, death is natural, part of the endless cycle of summer, autumn, winter and spring -- of birth, life, death and rebirth. Most of us would agree with the great philosopher Woody Allen who said, "I don't mind dying, I just don't want to be there when it happens." But, sorry, we don't have the option of absence.
Often we hear the old saw about the inevitably of death and taxes, but in our modern day we know that if one has the best tax lawyers and accountants money can buy, it is possible to avoid paying taxes at all. Death, however, is the one inevitable eventuation. Two of today's pericopes [Ezekiel 37: 1-14, John 11: 1-45], the story of the dry bones and the story of the raising of Lazarus, symbolize for us the themes of death and rebirth.
As Catholic Christians, we acknowledge the biblical and theological reality that eternal life, which is the free gift of God, begins when we surrender our hearts and lives to God in Christ. Eternal life is a present gift that goes on giving forever. New and unending life begins, not when we check out of this world, but when we check in.
That Catholic vision also owns that we are a Resurrection People. The Church is the "womb of salvation," in which we are born and fed with Word and Sacrament to live into God's eternal life. We journey together to God. Contrast that with the popular protestant notion that each of us is a lone ranger who must possess certain opinions in order for God to love us and to save us at the end of life by rapturing us onto another planet; whereas, if we don't have those opinions, we are sentenced to torture forever. For us the question must not be, 'is there life after death?', but 'is there life before death?' Years ago a rabbi friend was asked what Reform Jews believe about the afterlife and he said there is too much work to be done to heal the world (i.e. build the Kingdom of God) for us to waste time obsessing about afterlife, because if we live right, we can trust God with whatever comes after. Now that's a God we can believe in.
In our Ezekiel passage, the boneyard comes to life when God's breath blows over the bones and Israel comes back to life. As the New Israel, we too have been in exile to sin in a terrain of false religion. When God breathes over us, we revive to be his people again. And we resist the power of death even in this life: the spiritual death that comes from greed, self-promotion, addiction -- all the things that sap life out of us. When God breathes over us, we revive to be his reborn People here and now in this life, trusting God with the encore.
Often when we think of evil, we think of death. And while it is true that death can be seemingly unjust and untimely, even tragic, depending on the timing and circumstances, and while it can be accompanied by horrible pain and suffering, death is natural, part of the endless cycle of summer, autumn, winter and spring -- of birth, life, death and rebirth. Most of us would agree with the great philosopher Woody Allen who said, "I don't mind dying, I just don't want to be there when it happens." But, sorry, we don't have the option of absence.
Often we hear the old saw about the inevitably of death and taxes, but in our modern day we know that if one has the best tax lawyers and accountants money can buy, it is possible to avoid paying taxes at all. Death, however, is the one inevitable eventuation. Two of today's pericopes [Ezekiel 37: 1-14, John 11: 1-45], the story of the dry bones and the story of the raising of Lazarus, symbolize for us the themes of death and rebirth.
As Catholic Christians, we acknowledge the biblical and theological reality that eternal life, which is the free gift of God, begins when we surrender our hearts and lives to God in Christ. Eternal life is a present gift that goes on giving forever. New and unending life begins, not when we check out of this world, but when we check in.
That Catholic vision also owns that we are a Resurrection People. The Church is the "womb of salvation," in which we are born and fed with Word and Sacrament to live into God's eternal life. We journey together to God. Contrast that with the popular protestant notion that each of us is a lone ranger who must possess certain opinions in order for God to love us and to save us at the end of life by rapturing us onto another planet; whereas, if we don't have those opinions, we are sentenced to torture forever. For us the question must not be, 'is there life after death?', but 'is there life before death?' Years ago a rabbi friend was asked what Reform Jews believe about the afterlife and he said there is too much work to be done to heal the world (i.e. build the Kingdom of God) for us to waste time obsessing about afterlife, because if we live right, we can trust God with whatever comes after. Now that's a God we can believe in.
In our Ezekiel passage, the boneyard comes to life when God's breath blows over the bones and Israel comes back to life. As the New Israel, we too have been in exile to sin in a terrain of false religion. When God breathes over us, we revive to be his people again. And we resist the power of death even in this life: the spiritual death that comes from greed, self-promotion, addiction -- all the things that sap life out of us. When God breathes over us, we revive to be his reborn People here and now in this life, trusting God with the encore.
Sunday, March 26, 2017
Laetare Sunday: Prophets
There always have been, and are, two basic kinds of prophets: the court prophet who tells those in power what they want to hear and retires with a handsome pension, and the free-lance prophet like Jesus who tells those in power what they need to hear, and whose career usually does not end well.
In today's text [I Samuel 16:1-13] Samuel, is on the way to Bethlehem, to overthrow the government. He is going to anoint a new king while the old king, Saul, is still on the throne, and afterwards they can duke it out. The drama is magnified when we realize that the first king Saul actually replaced two of Samuel's sons who were corrupt and inept. Imagine the emotions racing through the prophet Samuel! This is dangerous business, but when people are suffering and justice is not being served, God expects his people to get political. Samuel looks at several attractive prospects for the Throne but bypasses them for young David the shepherd. He will be enthroned and he will become truly the prototypical Jewish king for all time, even though he was an adulterer, a murderer, and a liar. Truly "it is good to be king," when one needs to escape capital punishment and get a second change. The repentant David served well and truly.
What are our take-aways? First of all, God wants us involved in politics. Jesus was political. Except for the very late New Testament writings in which church members are encouraged to cosy up to Caesar (who claimed to be divine, in competition with Jesus), the consistent genuine biblical witness is the call to protect the poor and needy, indeed all those who are most vulnerable, against the predations of rich and powerful hypocrites. We have a positive duty to identify the important issues facing our community, state, and world, and to find effective ways to address the issues that really matter. And we work in a culture that exalts and listens to today's court prophets who serve the wealthy and powerful.
Second, we need to try to "see with God's eyes." How does our divine parent view what is going on in the world of humanity, every member of which is his beloved child? How does he view the present distribution of wealth? I am reminded of the line in the film Oh, God in which John Denver asks God, played by George Burns, why he allows suffering and starvation in the third world and God replies, "I gave you all this is." It isn't God's fault that our greed precludes sharing our blessings.
I also recall a continuing education professor making the comment that when we Americans stand before the Throne of God for judgement, we will not be asked, "How low were your taxes?" but rather "What did you do for the least?"
Finally, we can be encouraged that when we fulfil our role as prophets (servants of the prophetic Jesus) we can sure that God does not give up on those he has called. He will equip us for our holy work. The great prophets made many excuses -- not smart enough, too young, not very articulate -- and God refused all excuses, giving them what they needed to fulfil their mission. He will do the same for us when we are faithful to our prophetic calling.
In today's text [I Samuel 16:1-13] Samuel, is on the way to Bethlehem, to overthrow the government. He is going to anoint a new king while the old king, Saul, is still on the throne, and afterwards they can duke it out. The drama is magnified when we realize that the first king Saul actually replaced two of Samuel's sons who were corrupt and inept. Imagine the emotions racing through the prophet Samuel! This is dangerous business, but when people are suffering and justice is not being served, God expects his people to get political. Samuel looks at several attractive prospects for the Throne but bypasses them for young David the shepherd. He will be enthroned and he will become truly the prototypical Jewish king for all time, even though he was an adulterer, a murderer, and a liar. Truly "it is good to be king," when one needs to escape capital punishment and get a second change. The repentant David served well and truly.
What are our take-aways? First of all, God wants us involved in politics. Jesus was political. Except for the very late New Testament writings in which church members are encouraged to cosy up to Caesar (who claimed to be divine, in competition with Jesus), the consistent genuine biblical witness is the call to protect the poor and needy, indeed all those who are most vulnerable, against the predations of rich and powerful hypocrites. We have a positive duty to identify the important issues facing our community, state, and world, and to find effective ways to address the issues that really matter. And we work in a culture that exalts and listens to today's court prophets who serve the wealthy and powerful.
Second, we need to try to "see with God's eyes." How does our divine parent view what is going on in the world of humanity, every member of which is his beloved child? How does he view the present distribution of wealth? I am reminded of the line in the film Oh, God in which John Denver asks God, played by George Burns, why he allows suffering and starvation in the third world and God replies, "I gave you all this is." It isn't God's fault that our greed precludes sharing our blessings.
I also recall a continuing education professor making the comment that when we Americans stand before the Throne of God for judgement, we will not be asked, "How low were your taxes?" but rather "What did you do for the least?"
Finally, we can be encouraged that when we fulfil our role as prophets (servants of the prophetic Jesus) we can sure that God does not give up on those he has called. He will equip us for our holy work. The great prophets made many excuses -- not smart enough, too young, not very articulate -- and God refused all excuses, giving them what they needed to fulfil their mission. He will do the same for us when we are faithful to our prophetic calling.
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Lent III: Woman at Jacob's Well
That we humans are social animals is both good and bad news. Our social nature has made it possible to band together for survival and progress, but the forming of groups has also led us often to malign or demonize those outside our primary group. A good example is the hostility that developed between Jews and Samaritans long ago. Jews had always claimed the moniker God's "chosen people," as over against the "nations" of Gentiles who were impure. But when the Babylonian Exile happened, Jews argued that their special status was proven by God's punishment by exile and later forgiveness which allowed their return to the Holy Land. Those who were left behind, however, claimed that they had been proven to be the chosen people because God spared them exile. These were the Samaritans who in fact had a different tradition, a different Bible, and a different temple than Jews. Imagine the hatred that was fomented between these two Semitic groups.
A good example was a time before Jesus when Jewish zealots travelled to Samaritan and burnt down their temple at Gerizim. Later Samaritans retaliated by coming to Jerusalem and sprinkling the bones and ashes of dead bodies on the floor of the Jerusalem Temple, defiling it.
Against this backdrop, let's read today's typically ahistorical and symbolic story from John's late, artful gospel (4:5-42). It is the tale of a sexually-aberrant Samaritan women who meets Jesus when she comes alone to draw water from Jacob's well in her homeland. Immediately, there are several red flags that beg our attention. First, Jews avoid Samaritan territory like the plague, but here in Jesus. Jews also don't talk with Samaritans, but here is Jesus conversing. Jews don't touch vessels that have been used by Samaritans; Jesus accepts a drink. Women -- Jewish or Samaritan -- did no't talk to an unrelated male, especially a rabbi, without being accompanied by a male relative; Jesus and the woman speak freely alone. A woman who comes to draw water without a male guardian is signalling sexual availability; this woman has been married five times and is cohabiting with a boyfriend, but is still promiscuous, quite possibly a prostitute..
Jesus doesn't judge her; instead he demonstrates his awareness of her situation, breaks through all the barriers and boundaries set up to separate the two, and evangelizes her. She mentions the hope for a Messiah which is odd because Samaritans didn't expect a Messiah. Yet, Jesus brings the woman to faith in him as the One Awaited. With the Johannine technique of retrojection, Jesus predicts the end of worship at either of the great temples in favour of the Spirit which, you and I know, will lead the Catholic Church into all truth. Having being converted by Jesus, the woman's life is transformed and she leaves the water pitcher (symbolizing her old faith) behind, hurrying off to share the Good News with her fellow-Samaritans. Just as Mary brings Jesus to the Jewish nation, this Unnamed Woman will bring him to Samaria. It is worth mentioning that Christianity made good inroads amongst the Samaritan people, much ore so than with mainstream Jews. The woman is now on a mission: a marginalized person taking Christ to a marginalized people.
Her ministry reminds us that we too have a commission to share the Good News with those who are wounded and suffering, those outside the pale, those in tragic circumstances, those struggling against the forces of evil. Like the Samaritan woman, we are called to be messengers of hope!
A good example was a time before Jesus when Jewish zealots travelled to Samaritan and burnt down their temple at Gerizim. Later Samaritans retaliated by coming to Jerusalem and sprinkling the bones and ashes of dead bodies on the floor of the Jerusalem Temple, defiling it.
Against this backdrop, let's read today's typically ahistorical and symbolic story from John's late, artful gospel (4:5-42). It is the tale of a sexually-aberrant Samaritan women who meets Jesus when she comes alone to draw water from Jacob's well in her homeland. Immediately, there are several red flags that beg our attention. First, Jews avoid Samaritan territory like the plague, but here in Jesus. Jews also don't talk with Samaritans, but here is Jesus conversing. Jews don't touch vessels that have been used by Samaritans; Jesus accepts a drink. Women -- Jewish or Samaritan -- did no't talk to an unrelated male, especially a rabbi, without being accompanied by a male relative; Jesus and the woman speak freely alone. A woman who comes to draw water without a male guardian is signalling sexual availability; this woman has been married five times and is cohabiting with a boyfriend, but is still promiscuous, quite possibly a prostitute..
Jesus doesn't judge her; instead he demonstrates his awareness of her situation, breaks through all the barriers and boundaries set up to separate the two, and evangelizes her. She mentions the hope for a Messiah which is odd because Samaritans didn't expect a Messiah. Yet, Jesus brings the woman to faith in him as the One Awaited. With the Johannine technique of retrojection, Jesus predicts the end of worship at either of the great temples in favour of the Spirit which, you and I know, will lead the Catholic Church into all truth. Having being converted by Jesus, the woman's life is transformed and she leaves the water pitcher (symbolizing her old faith) behind, hurrying off to share the Good News with her fellow-Samaritans. Just as Mary brings Jesus to the Jewish nation, this Unnamed Woman will bring him to Samaria. It is worth mentioning that Christianity made good inroads amongst the Samaritan people, much ore so than with mainstream Jews. The woman is now on a mission: a marginalized person taking Christ to a marginalized people.
Her ministry reminds us that we too have a commission to share the Good News with those who are wounded and suffering, those outside the pale, those in tragic circumstances, those struggling against the forces of evil. Like the Samaritan woman, we are called to be messengers of hope!
Tuesday, March 7, 2017
Lent II: Nicodemus
The Gospel of John is a distinctive, reflective, and very late Christian document. It is stylized, heavily theological, and troubling in many ways. In its final form it is generally believed to have been completed well into the second century, C.E., long after the bitter separation of synagogue and church. It does not share its source tradition with the other, "synoptic" gospels. It is significantly anti-Semitic in its tone. The book is replete with all-new material found nowhere else -- much showing development in church life over time, such as the omission of the by-then-old-at narrative of the Lord's Supper in favour of the footwashing story, and his sermon about his Real Presence in the Eucharist (ch. 6). There is also significant theological development: the Jesus who in Matthew says, "Don't call me good. Only God is good," here in John declares, "The Father and I are One" insisting that prayer be directed to God through him. Jesus Seminar scholars have concluded that no statement attributed to Jesus in John was actually spoken by the historic Rabbi from Nazareth.
Members of the Jesus Movement experienced deep pain, disappointment, and anger in the refusal of mainstream Jews to accept their arguments for Jesus' Messiahship and to convert to Christ. That reality is reflected in John's Gospel in the depictions of general interactions among Jesus, other Jews, and Gentiles and lies beneath the surface of today's story of Jesus and respected mainstream Jewish leader Nicodemus in chapter 3.
Nicodemus comes to see Jesus by night [so as not to jeopardize his position as a mainstream Jewish leader]. He addresses Jesus as Rabbi [begrudgingly acknowledging Jesus' credentials as a teacher]. Nicodemus further acknowledges that Jesus is divinely commissioned [reading him quite correctly.]
Then they undertake a conversation about spiritual rebirth in which Nicodemus is seen as nothing short of an idiot: he assumes that Jesus' counsel that one must be reborn means climbing back into one's mother's womb. You can't get much more stupid than that. Jesus explains that this is a true spiritual concept for those open to the Spirit which is as untamable as wind.
What Jesus accomplishes in the conversation is to show that, in order for lives to be changed, Jesus' light must shine in the darkness and there must be a safe place to ask questions. Jesus offers to Nicodemus the possibility of having a life-changing experience in which he learns to move from the biblical literalism and stifling traditions of Judaism to being attuned to the work of God's Spirit in the Church..
Like Nicodemus we do not always "get it," we are not always open to the change that God has in mind for us in our lives. Lent helps to facilitate that process when we are willing to let it work for us.
Members of the Jesus Movement experienced deep pain, disappointment, and anger in the refusal of mainstream Jews to accept their arguments for Jesus' Messiahship and to convert to Christ. That reality is reflected in John's Gospel in the depictions of general interactions among Jesus, other Jews, and Gentiles and lies beneath the surface of today's story of Jesus and respected mainstream Jewish leader Nicodemus in chapter 3.
Nicodemus comes to see Jesus by night [so as not to jeopardize his position as a mainstream Jewish leader]. He addresses Jesus as Rabbi [begrudgingly acknowledging Jesus' credentials as a teacher]. Nicodemus further acknowledges that Jesus is divinely commissioned [reading him quite correctly.]
Then they undertake a conversation about spiritual rebirth in which Nicodemus is seen as nothing short of an idiot: he assumes that Jesus' counsel that one must be reborn means climbing back into one's mother's womb. You can't get much more stupid than that. Jesus explains that this is a true spiritual concept for those open to the Spirit which is as untamable as wind.
What Jesus accomplishes in the conversation is to show that, in order for lives to be changed, Jesus' light must shine in the darkness and there must be a safe place to ask questions. Jesus offers to Nicodemus the possibility of having a life-changing experience in which he learns to move from the biblical literalism and stifling traditions of Judaism to being attuned to the work of God's Spirit in the Church..
Like Nicodemus we do not always "get it," we are not always open to the change that God has in mind for us in our lives. Lent helps to facilitate that process when we are willing to let it work for us.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Lent I: All in This Together
Today we hear of the Garden of Eden (Gen 2: 15-17, 3: 1-7) and Jesus' time in the desert (Mt. 4: 1-11), two stories bearing a common theological thread. Let's take a look. Let me preface by averting to Doctor Marcus Borg's quip that pre-scientific ancients were smart enough to take biblical materials symbolically, while many modern people are stupid enough to take them literally.
Beginning with Genesis, what do we -- well-educated people of the twenty-first century -- make of a story in which a male of the species Homo Sapiens is created instantly from dirt, the first female of the species is created from one of his bones, and then a talking snake convinces the overly-curious spouse to eat a fruit which causes one to have a conscience? It is no seven-league stride to realize we are not dealing here with history or biology, but theology. And the story is an aetiology, which is a storyteller's best attempt to explain why things are as they are. We learn about lost innocence, the evolution of conscience, heterosexual relations, intellectual curiosity, and the consequence of choice, which is freedom to choose wrongly, to "sin." At the heart of all that is what I would call "original sin," namely our natural inclination to want to be the centre of our universe, to be in charge of our lives instead of letting God take charge, and to "look out after number one" instead of trying to love others as ourselves and be committed to community.
When we look at the story of Jesus' retreat in the desert as he wrestles with his temptations, we see that the tale has three vignettes. First, Jesus is tempted to turn some stones into bread, suggesting priority for the material over the spiritual. Jesus is then tempted to turn his ministry into a magic show by jumping off the temple parapet. Finally, he is tempted to turn to the Dark Side in order to gain wealth and power. In all three, Jesus is facing that underlying temptation to prioritize self and one's personal interests above the divine agenda. This is truly hard testing, which he passes, and now he is ready to go forward with his vocation.
The lesson we are to take away is that all humans are part of a large family and called to do what is right for all. However, when we pray not to be led into temptation but delivered from evil, we must necessarily first face the evil. We must in turn avoid the temptation to say this is not my problem; it doesn't affect me. If it affects humanity, it affects each and all of us.
I remember when, during our first tenure at Saint Matthew's, some Jewish graves in a downtown Tulsa cemetery were defaced. I joined other spiritual leaders of many traditions as we came there to support our Jewish brothers and sisters and to re-dedicate those resting places. Thus we told the world that, regardless of how we define ourselves religiously, we are all beloved children of God and we support one another, take responsibility for one another. Recently in Philadelphia hundreds of Jewish graves were overturned, spray-painted with swastikas, and otherwise desecrated. In response, Muslim-Americans contributed $100,000 towards restoration of those Jewish burial sites and a leading imam explained the generous gift by saying, "We are all in this together."
Beginning with Genesis, what do we -- well-educated people of the twenty-first century -- make of a story in which a male of the species Homo Sapiens is created instantly from dirt, the first female of the species is created from one of his bones, and then a talking snake convinces the overly-curious spouse to eat a fruit which causes one to have a conscience? It is no seven-league stride to realize we are not dealing here with history or biology, but theology. And the story is an aetiology, which is a storyteller's best attempt to explain why things are as they are. We learn about lost innocence, the evolution of conscience, heterosexual relations, intellectual curiosity, and the consequence of choice, which is freedom to choose wrongly, to "sin." At the heart of all that is what I would call "original sin," namely our natural inclination to want to be the centre of our universe, to be in charge of our lives instead of letting God take charge, and to "look out after number one" instead of trying to love others as ourselves and be committed to community.
When we look at the story of Jesus' retreat in the desert as he wrestles with his temptations, we see that the tale has three vignettes. First, Jesus is tempted to turn some stones into bread, suggesting priority for the material over the spiritual. Jesus is then tempted to turn his ministry into a magic show by jumping off the temple parapet. Finally, he is tempted to turn to the Dark Side in order to gain wealth and power. In all three, Jesus is facing that underlying temptation to prioritize self and one's personal interests above the divine agenda. This is truly hard testing, which he passes, and now he is ready to go forward with his vocation.
The lesson we are to take away is that all humans are part of a large family and called to do what is right for all. However, when we pray not to be led into temptation but delivered from evil, we must necessarily first face the evil. We must in turn avoid the temptation to say this is not my problem; it doesn't affect me. If it affects humanity, it affects each and all of us.
I remember when, during our first tenure at Saint Matthew's, some Jewish graves in a downtown Tulsa cemetery were defaced. I joined other spiritual leaders of many traditions as we came there to support our Jewish brothers and sisters and to re-dedicate those resting places. Thus we told the world that, regardless of how we define ourselves religiously, we are all beloved children of God and we support one another, take responsibility for one another. Recently in Philadelphia hundreds of Jewish graves were overturned, spray-painted with swastikas, and otherwise desecrated. In response, Muslim-Americans contributed $100,000 towards restoration of those Jewish burial sites and a leading imam explained the generous gift by saying, "We are all in this together."
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