The child Jesus as icon of reading brain

 The story of finding the young Jesus in the temple (Luke 2: 41-50) has been on my mind recently. In that story, after looking for him for 3 days, Mary and Joseph find the young Jesus sitting in the temple with the elders and what does the gospel say He was doing? He was listening to them and asking them questions (cf. Lk 2:46). It is Christ’s first encounter with the scribes and elders, and what is He doing? Not preaching or chastising, not correcting or telling them anything, but simply sitting with them, listening to them, and asking questions.
Listening and asking questions… That phrase keeps coming back to me in prayer and in meditation and even occasionally in the produce section at HEB. I think part of why this image of Christ resonates so deeply with me is because I am a librarian and in this image of Jesus I am reminded of something dear to my heart: the act of reading. What do we do when we read but listen to the voice of another, to the voice of Homer or Melville, Langston Hughes or Mary Oliver. And as we listen we might find ourselves growing curious, asking questions; Why did that happen? What does it mean? Is it true? How does it make me feel? Listening and asking questions.
Think about what the world would be like if we all did more of that. If instead of arguing or ignoring each other, we spent more time listening and asking questions, what would the world be like? And who would we be like?
Attentive, active, deep reading is a life skill like no other, it not only exposes us to ideas and art, history and imagining, but also to the practice of listening and asking questions. If we let it, it prepares us for a life of listening and asking questions. It is like Spring Training for being present to others, practice for quietly, humbly bearing witness to their story, their ideas, their feelings through patient and quiet attention. It is a life skill desperately needed today; and if we aren’t careful in this age of scrolling and streaming and AI-ing, we just might lose it and become like those idols the prophets are always talking about:

“They have ears but do not hear
and eyes yet do not see…” --Jeremiah 5:21

 

 

 

 

 

Encountering Christ in the need of others -Thoughts on "The woman at the Well" and the 3rd Sunday of Lent

 

 

“When a Samaritan woman came to draw water,
Jesus said to her: Give me something to drink.”

--John 4:7 

 Struggling this Lent to turn away from sin and return to the gospel, I am still holding on; hoping that perhaps my willingness to spend time with God’s word and in prayer will count for something against my constant hunger for distractions and my weakness with temptation. Yes, God is merciful, but I don’t want to be too presumptive.  Is that a form of pride? that hesitation to be completely dependent on the grace of God?  I wonder and I fear.  And so I am doing what I can to stay close to the well and wait for the grace to arrive? Or simply to reveal itself…

 

This past Sunday (3^rd Sunday of Lent) we heard the beautiful reading from John’s Gospel about the Samaritan woman at the well.  She encounters Christ and becomes one of the first evangelists; rushing to the village to tell everyone about this man who told her everything about herself; this man and His strange promise of “living water.”  There are many lessons we can learn from this story, from the woman’s life and actions, from the words of our Lord, from the reaction of the people in her village.  So many lessons, but listening to this story once again, I was struck by one in particular that I had never noticed before: 

 

Give me something to drink.

 

Jesus doesn’t just ask the woman politely; He tells her. Why?  To our modern ear this may sound a bit abrupt, even rude.  We teach our children to ask politely.  When a person is thirsty, we expect something like: May I have a glass of water? Please?  But instead, Jesus seems to almost command the woman to take care of His needs.  Why?  Certainly it isn’t because He can’t get water for Himself. This is a guy who can strike a rock and water would flow forth if He chose.  There has to be something more going on.  I wonder if what sounds almost like an order, is really –in fact-- an offer. But what is He offering her, perhaps the gift of His need.  And suddenly, sitting there in mass, listening to this beautiful and familiar story I could hear another lesson echoing in my head:

 

“Lord, when did we see you hungry, and give you something to eat? 
When did we see you thirsty and give you drink?” (cf. Mt. 25:31-40)

And I realized, that was it.  Here in this moment, with this Samaritan woman, in the middle of the day, sitting at this ancient well, Jesus was embodying an essential truth:

 

“In truth, I tell you, whatsoever you did for the least of these, that you did unto me.”

 

He was giving flesh to this one simple truth: whenever we serve anyone in need, we serve Christ; whenever and wherever we encounter the needs of others, we have the opportunity (quite literally) to encounter Jesus.  The opportunity to give Jesus something to drink, something to eat, clothes to wear, a caring heart, a helping hand.  Whatever you do for the least of these: sick, hungry, thirsty, prisoners, the lonely, the afflicted… That you quite literally do for (and to) Jesus.  It’s not an order, it’s an invitation. 
Looking to improve your Lent? Want to encounter Jesus face to face?  Look for someone in need. Reach out to them. Share your wallet. Share your lunch.  Share your love. Visit the sick, care for the afflicted, feed the hungry… Give Him something to drink.  It’s not rocket science… It’s just Love.

When Joseph Awoke (a father at Christmas): some thoughts for the 4th Sunday of Advent

 

“When Joseph awoke, he did

as the angel commanded him.”

--Matthew 1:18-24

 

Who, over the age of 25, has not experienced that frightening moment when you wake up and suddenly realize: Oh my gosh! It’s almost Christmas! But, I’m not ready!  And suddenly--if you are like me—you rush out to the garage in search of lights you promised to hang a month ago, and the wreath that still needs to be put on the door. By golly, those Advent candles aren’t going to light themselves!... And has anyone seen the inflatable pug?

 It’s just not Christmas without the pug!

 In a desperate frenzy of activity, we set about doing everything the season commands. Wanting our house, our tree, our table to be just right!  Perfect, in fact. But there is always one more trip to HEB in search of gluten free ginger snaps for Aunt Lucy, or to Hallmark for a box of cards we still intend to write—Christmas is a season, you know; not just a single day!

 And the presents! Aargh. What size sweater does my sister wear? Would your bother like a new tie? With Snoopy on it? What about Aunt Hildy? Does she still smoke a pipe?  And I forgot to buy that tea your mother loves so much!

 

And just when it seems like it might come together, suddenly your niece announces she is vegan. Or someone else is added to the guest list and we need to borrow a card table from the neighbors, and get a few old folding chairs out of the garage… The chaos that comes with Christmas can be overwhelming. So much to do and if you put it all off long enough, so little time to do it.

 

Think about Joseph, he goes to bed one night certain of one thing: he is about to get divorced. But then an angel appears in his dream and everything changes.

 

Can’t you just see this humble old carpenter waking up and realizing he isn’t ready? Rushing about trying to make his house perfect for a new wife and this mysterious child of her’s—who just happens to be the savior of the world… When suddenly there is another messenger. Another command.  This time from Caesar; Everybody pack your bags and head home for a census! 

But I have plans for the holidays.

 

And again Joseph has to pivot, change plans, make new ones. A road trip. No problem.

 

But there isn’t any Trivago or AAA to help with reservations. But, surely God would provide a safe place for His son to be born, maybe even a room with a private bath and a view of the winter hillside.  I hear the night sky is full of stars and the gathered sheep look almost like drifts of snow this time of year.

 

And like most of us (especially fathers), Joseph had to learn that no matter how well you plan or hard you try, something (or someone) unexpected shows up and the best laid plans come crashing down like shards from a shattered ornament.  I am pretty sure if you asked him,  Joseph would tell you a stable full of animals and strangers was never part of his plan.  In fact, in his eyes, it probably seemed like a catastrophe, a sign somehow of his own failing as a husband and a step-father.  And yet, in the fullness of God’s plan, it was anything but; it was the fulfillment of His Word, of His love.

 

“Thus says the Lord:

Heaven is My footstool, and the earth My throne;

What kind of dwelling can you build for me?

What is to be my resting place?...

This is the one I approve: the lowly and the afflicted,

the one who trembles at My word.”  --Isaiah 66:1-2

 

God chose to enter into the world as an infant, vulnerable to the dangers and afflictions of the flesh and this world. That is the dwelling God chose, the dwelling He prefers. And no matter how we try to clean it up, sanitize it for Christmas cards, or Hallmark movies, God will always find a way to break through our plans, our desperate attempts to create a perfect Christmas, a perfect family, a perfect life… and through the vulnerability and chaos of our discomfort and failure and dysfunction, He will reveal Himself: a helpless baby lying in a manger, hungering for His mother’s tender breast, the warmth of His father’s gentle touch, offering us the chance to give Him not a gift card or a carefully wrapped present, but ourselves, our hearts, our love. That’s all… 

 

And so here it is, Christmas is upon us, those final days before the celebration. We have just celebrated the 4^th Sunday of Advent. We are at the eve of Christmas eve and yes company is coming, relatives, friends (folks you don’t know), and yes there are still cards to write and presents to buy and wrapping to be done.  But, instead of entering into the frenzy of it all, slow down. Take a breath.  And remember this: This Christmas don’t let the colored lights, and the glitter of the wrapping paper, the tinsel and the bows (and all your plans and expectations) blind you to the unexpected grace found only in the actual gift waiting for you right probably right where you least expect it.

 

The Fulfillment of the Law

 

                             “…love is the fulfillment of the Law.”
                             --Romans 13: 8 -10

Why is the world so angry these days? Why is America so angry? Why are Christians so angry? And why are we all so reflexively defensive? It seems to me that part of the problem is we have forgotten how to love, and forgotten what love looks like, how love acts, and what love costs. A man gets shot and instead of coming together in sorrow and compassion as a nation we start pointing fingers, Democrats desperate to blame Republicans and Conservatives righteously blaming Liberals! Each side bitterly blaming the other. A husband and wife are brutally murdered (possibly by their own son) and our president posts cruel self-righteous messages about how the victim brought it on himself. After a school shooting, instead of coming together in solidarity to protect our children each side reaches for a camera to start broadcasting vitriole and reasons why the other side is responsible for another unimaginable nighmare, another empty seat around some poor family's table. Why is it that we aren't coming together? Why are we treating each other this way? What has happened to us as a nation? As a society? As a people? It's like we are just looking for enemies? Why aren't we treating each other with love?
Perhaps we just need someone to remind us what that is... and what it looks like.

Here at Christmas time we often get quite caught up in the whole sentimental baby in the manger with lovely clean sheep hovering about, breathing their sweet warm grassy breath over the rosy cheeked, pink and freshly swaddled infant. This image of Christmas with its gentleness and radiant beauty can distract us from the truth—Love is hard. It requires sacrifice. It demands patience. And it can be exhausting…and risky. When we are expecting something tender and sentimental, we may be utterly shocked by the truth-- the wood of that manger inevitably leads to the wood of the cross. It’s unavoidable. Love makes us vulnerable, and that is very uncomfortable. Something we (by instinct) avoid at any cost. And yet, here at Christmas that is exactly the image of Christ we are presented with. A newborn child, helpless; the God who is Love lying in a manger, dependent for food and warmth upon His own creation, the comfort of His mother's breast and the warmth of her flesh holding Him close. The rough fingers of his carpenter "father" gently lifting him to change a diaper or at least the straw that makes up His bed.

Love makes us vulnerable, and that is always uncomfortable. And Love maes demands upon us, demands we too often might rather avoid.

But, as Paul reminds us in his letter to the Romans, “love is the fulfillment of the Law.” The Law is capitalized here because it refers not just to human laws but to the Law of God (as found in the Torah). Think about that; Paul is telling us that all those rules found in Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy—all those hard and fast regulations—boil down to one thing: Love.

Paul gives us three wonderful lessons at the end of Romans that—if we take them seriously—will utterly change the way we treat each other. Especially anyone we might be tempted to call our enemy. First:

                             “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, thus sayeth the Lord.” (12:19)

This tells us that getting revenge (or getting even) is not our business; that belongs to God.

Second:

                            “If your enemy is hungry, give him something to eat;
                             if thirsty, give him something to drink.
                            By doing this, you will heap red-hot coals on his head.” (12:20)

Hence, if we begin to think of someone as our enemy, we now know how God wants us to treat them: with generosity and compassion. This is what Love looks like... The answer isn't revenge, the answer isn't cruelty or meanness, but generosity and compassion. Of course, we might think this is just the old "Kill them with kindness" ploy, but is there something more to it? Is the strangeness of this lesson not just about how we treat our "enemies" but how we transform them (and ourselves)... By heaping red-hot coals of generosity and kindness upon them, we might change their hearts... But, more importantly we might change our own. It is hard to hate someone you are caring for, harder even to see them as an enemy when you see their hunger and thirst and their need for help, for compassion, for Love. It seems that the Law of God is asking us not to harden our hearts against our enemy but to become even more like Christ as we approach them. To see them not with the eyes of politics or nationality but with the eyes of Jesus.

Which leads me back to this:

                             “…love [truly] is the fulfillment of the Law…” (cf.13:8-10)

Why do Christians so quickly forget these essentials? Especially in a time of conflict? Whether it is personal or social or even international, what is it about these simple lessons that eludes us? Why does their obvious meaning fade so quickly when our eyes are clouded by anger and resentment?

Let us ponder this as we approach the celebration of the birth of God’s Love made flesh. This whole turn the other cheek, feed the hungry, care for the sick, visit the prisoners, clothe the naked, care for the vulnerable and the outcast thing isn’t just some liberal agenda run amuck. It is the fulfillment of the Law of God. And it is our call as Christians, as the Body of Christ we are called to live it, to embody it, to love our enemy and bless those who curse us, to give ourselves away, and by so doing to give our flesh to the Love of God. To let God’s love shine through our words and actions we must abe willing to allo the wood of the cradle to reveal the wood of the Cross. This way of life, this way of Love –it is the salt we are called to be for the earth; it is the Light our faith must shine in a world frightened and lost in the darkness of hate.

It is the Law and the Law is Love. What kind of blessing will you become this Christmas? And who will you bless? If you are still looking for a way to shake up your holiday season, let that become your Advent prayer.