Juxtaposition

Tags

beatitudes, heart of God, justice, Matthew, mercy, obfuscation, reconciled, reconciliation, responsibility, right relationship, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unconditional love

Chapter 5 of Matthew’s gospel is so full of teaching that it provides a lifetime of material for reflection. The Beatitudes alone are enough! In today’s lectionary selection, however, there is a very important section on how we ought to treat those persons closest to us. (Jesus calls them our brothers, but we know he meant our sisters too.) It’s about the fact that we must be in right relationship with our neighbors before we approach God in our worship services. The very familiar text (vs. 20-26) tells us that if there is something separating us from another person we need to leave our gift at the altar to go and be reconciled. It’s that important. The interesting thing about this passage for me, however, is a simple twist in the way the recognition of our duty is expressed by Jesus. He doesn’t say, “If you recall that you have anything against your brother, go first and reconcile…” Instead, Jesus makes the job of reconciliation ours even though it is “if your brother has anything against you…”

It would seem unfair to say it is our responsibility to take the first step in such a case. It’s much easier to blame others for their misunderstanding of us or their unwillingness to come to us when we have nothing (maybe) against them. I think that Jesus is looking for two things from us here: 1. a willingness to look in a mirror to be sure that there is no obfuscation going on from our part and 2. a willingness to practice unconditional love in any situation – whether or not we share responsibility for the breach in relationship. Letting go of justice for mercy is a large-hearted step. Taking it goes a long way in moving toward the heart of God.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Out of the Depths

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Ancient Songs Sung Anew, despair, Easter season, familiar, forgiveness, impact, Lent, Lynn Bauman, mercy, practices, prayers, presence, Psalm 30, responsibility, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

My first thoughts on this fifth Sunday of Lent centered around my relatively low level of attention for what (in my experience anyway) was always called “the holy season of Lent.” I do not disparage that title; more Christians are likely aware of religious practice during these six weeks than at any other time in the year. It makes me wonder, however, why the fervor doesn’t often last throughout the fifty days of the Easter season. Perhaps we find it easier to do penance than to rejoice! If so, what does that have to say about our image of God? But I digress…

The tenor of my offerings over these last weeks comes, I think, from my conviction that although reminders of special times are important, it is our everyday devotion that will move us toward God, sort of a “one step at a time” approach, and I sometimes think that we become so familiar with certain prayers or practices that they can lose the impact of their meaning for us. Take Psalm 30, for instance. I can recite the whole thing and recognize that we are being called to repentance by the psalmist’s cry, but sometimes it sounds so dire – as if I am the worst sinner in the universe – that I refuse the import of what can be gained by reflection on the meaning and stop at the part about my guilt, thereby missing the resolution in the last verses. I miss both my responsibility to repair relationship and God’s willingness to allow it to happen. Maybe it’s because the psalmist is talking about the relationship of the nation of Israel to God rather than my person. Thus, I come to my point. I find in Lynn Bauman’s translation of Psalm 30 a recognition both of my responsibility for my unworthy actions and an acknowledgment of God’s willingness to hear my longing for the benevolent embrace of forgiveness and love. It only takes the effort of silence to recognize the possibility. Listen to this text below with your heart wide open.

Lord, I am calling to you again, from the depths; in this place of despair hear my voice. Listen, listen, if you will, for I am crying. If you were to note everything, all missteps and offenses, none of us could stand before you uncondemned. But always, always you forgive, and make us whole again, and so we stand in awe before you, waiting. My whole being waits for you, my God, listening for your presence. I long to hear your voice again, speaking. So like a watchman who anticipates the crack of dawn, my heart waits for the first-light of your word. Listen, listen, wait in silence listening for the One from whom all-mercy flows, who is the secret source of our redemption, and the healing of the wounds our sins have caused. (Ancient Songs Sung Anew, p. 334)

 

 

 

 

 

Cooperation

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bad, division, Ezekiel, good, heart, new heart, new spirit, passivity, prophet, reconciliation, responsibility, sins, spiritual path, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, unity, violence

I’ve always been partial to Ezekiel’s verse in chapter 36 that has God saying, “I will take from you your stony hearts and give you natural hearts…” It’s something I hold onto when I’m feeling ungenerous or grumpy – or worse. This morning however, in the earlier text from Ezekiel, chapter 18: 21-28, I read a serious message about bad and good behavior and the consequences of turning in one direction or the other. In case we miss it in the first reading, the verse before the gospel says this: Cast away from you all the crimes you have committed, says the Lord, and make for yourselves a new heart and a new spirit. (18:31) The lesson for today, then, is that we have a responsibility to work toward restoring ourselves to God’s image rather than letting God do all the work.

There is more to this story, however, that resolves the apparent contradiction in the above comments. Why did Ezekiel change his mind from chapter 18 to chapter 36? The story goes that Ezekiel became a prophet in Babylon during the exile, and “his first task was to prepare his fellow countrymen in Babylon for the final destruction of Jerusalem, which they believed to be inviolable. Accordingly, the first part of his book consists of reproaches for Israel’s past and present sins and the confident prediction of yet a further devastation of the land of promise and a more general exile. In 587 BCE, when Nebuchadnezzar destroyed Jerusalem, Ezekiel was vindicated before his unbelieving compatriots.” (New American Bible commentary, p. 972)

The good news of Ezekiel’s prophecy which I quoted at the beginning of this reflection is that God never does abandon the human race, but there are questions that arise, I think, from a comparison of the Israelites’ situation to the state of our fractured nation today. Have we been shaken enough by the division and violence that continues to occur in our country and the world to wake up? Will we take the responsibility to change our own hearts and cooperate with God in moving toward unity and care for one another before we devolve into a people who will lose any semblance of humanity? I know those questions sound alarmist and dire but the story of the Israelites this morning calls me to look deeply into my own spirit and ask myself about my behavior. Am I so sure that I am “above the fray” by saying my life is on a spiritual path? Do I avoid difficult conversations because I think I have the right answers and don’t trust people on “the other side” to be rational about differences? Is praying for movement toward peace and reconciliation enough to do if I am unwilling to leave my prayer space to reach out to anyone I see as unsafe or uncomfortable? The blindness of the Israelites and the severity of Ezekiel’s message this morning have touched me as never before and shaken my passivity as one who believes that God will always save us. I still know that truth but now ask myself how long I am willing to watch what we are doing to each other before I give God some active help in the effort of our reconciliation. A sobering question for this first Friday of Lent…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Faith in the Future

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action, beliefs, courage, faith, faith quotient, future, Meg Wheatley, responsibility, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Turning To One Another, uncomfortable, unfamiliar, values

There’s a lot of distress about the future in our country and the world these days. It’s often really difficult to see how we will overcome the negative forces that seem to surround us on every front. Sometimes it’s important just to stop and take stock of where we stand and what we believe is possible. Meg Wheatley, in her book Turning to One Another asks the question: What is my faith in the future? and then offers the following thoughts.

Where does the future come from? It often feels these days as if the future arrives from nowhere. Suddenly things feel unfamiliar, we’re behaving differently, the world doesn’t work the way it used to. We’re surprised to find ourselves in this new place – it’s uncomfortable and we don’t like it.

The future doesn’t take form irrationally, even though it feels that way. The future comes from where we are now. It materializes from the actions, values, and beliefs we’re practicing now. We’re creating the future every day, by what we choose to do. If we want a different future, we have to take responsibility for what we are doing in the present.

After discussing several examples of how we might accept that responsibility and move forward, she concludes with the following statement. We have sufficient human capacities – to think and reflect together, to care about one another, to act courageously, to reclaim the future. These great human capacities moved into action are what give me faith in the future. (p. 64, 67)

What is your “faith quotient” right now? How will you work toward its realization?

 

 

 

 

 

Riches

Tags

balance, certainty, choices, corruption, gift of life, money, poverty, power, precious jewel, psalm 49, responsibility, riches, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, troubled times, wealth, wisdom's words

All of the readings today speak of the danger of riches. We have seen how our culture fuels our desire for more – whether it be money or power – and the corruption that ensues in many cases when “more” is achieved. Clearly there are very rich people who do amazing and generous things with their money – Warren Buffett, for instance – but responsibility with wealth only comes from the development of a discerning heart and a life of understanding that we are, not just in theory, brothers and sisters in this world.

Psalm 49 begins with the psalmist calling for attention to “wisdom’s words” regarding riches as he develops his argument in a framework that we might call “you can’t take it with you.” Listen well, my people, you who live on earth pay heed. Whether you are rich or poor, born high or low, it does not matter now. For wisdom’s words apply to you… He then asks a question that we would do well to ponder, and answers it for himself. Should I be terrified in troubled times, when evil dogs my way, while those who trust their wealth to save boast vast prosperity? No, none of this can help us now nor buy the gift of life. Riches never bring us certainty, nor free us from the grave…Then the one certain thing is the psalmist’s conclusion: For the grave claims back our bodies and angels claim our souls, but the One with the power of life and death claims you always as its own.

As always, there is a balance to be sought here. It would be foolhardy to raise up poverty as a benefit, but striving over-much for wealth is just as futile. As I write this, I’m thinking of the family, the mother and her seven grown children, who just won over four hundred million dollars in the Powerball Lottery. They presented as a close and loving family and in the few sentences that the news channel allowed, the spokesperson and one other of them sounded balanced in what they proposed to do with the money. I will pray for them today and hope that wisdom undergirds their choices and love walks with them into a future that is filled with possibility. May they and all of us remember that we cannot buy the gift of life; thus may we hold it as a precious jewel and share it generously each day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do It Yourself

Tags

discipline, doormats, Ezekiel, humility, Lenten journey, Matthew, new heart, new spirit, practice what you preach, psalm 50, responsibility, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today’s readings are very clear that discipline is an inside job. I noticed it first in the verse before the gospel which proclaimed, “Cast away from you all the crimes you have committed, says the Lord, and make for yourselves a new heart and a new spirit.” (EZ 18:31) This is different from the more familiar (to me anyway) line about God saying, “I will take from you your stony hearts and give to you natural hearts.” Today God is calling us to responsibility; we need to do the work of repentance, not just talk about it. In Psalm 50, God asks, “Why do you recite my statutes, and profess my covenant with your mouth, though you hate discipline and cast my words behind you?” That makes me think of the old adage, Say what you mean and mean what you say.

The gospel gives us another familiar line that moves the conversation from a consideration of our speech to action. He’s speaking to the crowds about the scribes and the Pharisees (the people in charge) but we can all take to heart the lesson: Practice what you preach from the descriptions of what Jesus is talking about. “For they preach but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens hard to carry and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they do not lift a finger to move them. All their works are performed to be seen…They love places of honor at banquets, seats of honor in synagogues, greetings in marketplaces, and the salutation ‘Rabbi.'” The advice of Jesus ends the reading and is a good reminder for all of us. “The greatest among you,” Jesus says, “must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” (MT 23:1-12)

Just a caveat about that last quote. Jesus is not interested in us making ourselves “doormats” for people to walk over. He is talking about mature service and true humility, qualities that can never be faked because they come from the inside, not from any action we can perform. So today I will “watch my step” on this Lenten journey, making sure I’m not looking for applause but doing my best to be authentic in all I do for God and for those I meet along the way.

Finding Our Place

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act, blessing, compassionate distance, contribute, find yourself, gesture, human community, humans, own place, own time, response, responsibility, slogan, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton, time, truth

Today’s blog title could be seen as a follow up (or maybe a precursor) to yesterday’s topic. It is the title of a quote from Thomas Merton that I thought worth repeating today. I hope you agree.

Humans have a responsibility to their own time, not as if they could seem to stand outside it and donate various spiritual and material benefits to it from a position of compassionate distance. Humans have a responsibility to find themselves where they are, in their own proper time and place, in the history to which they belong and to which they must inevitably contribute either their response or their evasions, either truth and act, or mere slogan and gesture.

May today be one of great blessing for the human community!

Epiphany

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chain of light, Christ, Ephesians, epiphany, link, manifestation, Matthew, Paul, responsibility, stewardship of God's grace, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, Thomas Merton

Today Christians the world over celebrate the feast of the Epiphany, a Greek word that means manifestation and symbolizes the day when Christ was manifested to the “world” as represented by the visit of the Magi (MT 2:1-12). In a larger sense, the word has come to mean the sudden realization or comprehension of the (larger) essence or meaning of something (Urban Dictionary).

In the second reading for today’s feast Paul writes to the Ephesians: You have heard of the stewardship of God’s grace that was given to me for your benefit, namely that the mystery was made known to me by revelation. (EPH 3: 2-3A). The phrase “stewardship of God’s grace” amplified for me the meaning of epiphany by adding to it an element of responsibility. Paul had a private revelation of Christ, certainly a powerful and sudden realization of the meaning of Christ to the world. What it caused in him, however, was the necessity of spreading the news of what he had come to know, spreading it as far and wide as he was able with the passion engendered by that one moment of recognition.

Just before I began to write this reflection, I read a passage from Thomas Merton’s Book of Hours that came originally from his book Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander. Merton is offering morning praise to the God of creation and gives another perspective, I think, on the vastness of an “epiphany” of God’s presence.

Today, Father. the blue sky lauds you. The delicate green and orange flowers of the tulip poplar tree praise you. The distant blue hills praise you, together with the sweet-smelling air that is full of brilliant light. The bickering flycatchers praise you with the lowing cattle and the quails that whistle over there. I, too, Father, praise you, with all these, my brothers, and they give voice to my own heart and my own silence. We are all one silence, and a diversity of voices. You have made us together, you have made us one and many, you have placed me here in the midst as witness, as awareness, and as joy. Here I am. In me the world is present, and you are present. I am a link in the chain of light and of presence.

If we are also links in the chain of God’s presence to the world, how do we, how will we in this new year perhaps, manifest that presence in our own unique way that will help to spread that recognition to someone somewhere who is ready and in need of the light?

…and the Complex Son!

Tags

dignity, relationship with God, responsibility, St. Augustine, St. Monica, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Yesterday I spoke of St. Monica, whose steadfast attention and prayer is generally seen as the impetus for the conversion of her son who became St. Augustine. A brilliant character, Augustine did everything with rigor – wild living no less than the intensity of religious fundamentalism after his conversion. One commentator speaks of him this way: “Augustine is still acclaimed and condemned in our day. He is a prophet for today, trumpeting the need to scrap escapisms and stand face-to-face with personal responsibility and dignity.”

Wherever one stands – whether critic or supporter of Augustine’s teaching – it must be acknowledged that in his writings that speak of his relationship with God, his sincerity and love are profound. Here is my favorite:

Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new; late have I loved you! You were within me and I outside…You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and now I burn for your peace.

Who’s the Prodigal?

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heal, joy, kind, Lord, merciful, mercy, parable, pardon, prodigal son, Psalm 103, responsibility, selfishness, The Sophia Center for Spirituality

Today’s gospel is one of the most familiar of the Christian Scriptures. Named the  parable of the Prodigal Son it has, over the past few decades, been the subject of much study and deeper interpretation. For instance, one of the more memorable moments for me on the subject was that in conversation about the older son a friend said, “All along the father was thinking that he stayed out of love, but in the end it seemed that his real, deep-down motivation was duty or obligation – which saddened and shocked the father when it became obvious.” That has given me a lot to think about from time to time. More recently I have heard the parable called “The Prodigal Father” and, after considerable confusion, I decided to look up the definition of “prodigal” to try to settle my mind and the interpretation. What I found was two basic definitions.

1. Wasteful, extravagant, spendthrift, reckless, imprudent…

2. Generous, lavish, liberal, unstinting, unsparing…

I find it interesting that the two are closely related and that it is possible that the father’s prodigality with his sons was the basis for the younger son’s action with only a tip of the scales toward selfishness and a lack of a sense of responsibility – or youthful immaturity – that turned the whole thing bad. I think of that as I read Psalm 103 this morning. The refrain sings, “The Lord is kind and merciful” – something that must’ve spurred the son to return to such a father. Continuing the analogy, the verse holds out hope and describes what actually happened when the son came home. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits. He pardons all your iniquities and heals all your ills. He redeems your life from destruction, he crowns you with kindness and compassion. The son was ready to throw himself on his father’s good nature, aware that he would at least be treated with a measure of mercy. Clearly, the father’s joy at his return was unexpected. It would be a wonderful thing if we could remember that moment as well as the words of the psalm when we are asking God for forgiveness.

There is one more thing, however, that the psalm teaches and that I was alluding to when I mentioned youthful immaturity and a sense of responsibility.  There is an imperative that precedes the listing of the ways in which we are forgiven – something we must remember. We must be willing to recognize God’s goodness to us and not forget God’s faithfulness. God is always there to forgive our imprudent or reckless behavior but a “thank you” is always in order for the generous, lavish “welcome home” that we are given.