Making a straight path for Christmas --Some thoughts on Matthew 3:1-9

“Make straight his paths…” Matthew 3:3

 

One of my Advent dreams this year was to be more reflective, spend some time each day in prayer: read the Advent readings from the missal and maybe write a few reflections about them.  But here it is the third Sunday and I have yet to begin.  Instead, I feel like an arctic explorer, forging my way through—just hoping to reach Christmas in one piece.  Along with that, there’ve been leaky pipes, torn out walls, and a couple of big plastic tarps in the kitchen as part of our holiday decoration theme this year.

 

But, it is never too late to make like Fred and Ginger, to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again.  So, this morning, with a little time on my hand, waiting for the sheet-rock guy to come, I am going to reflect on last Sunday’s Gospel reading: Matthew 3:1-9.

It begins:

 

“John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea
and saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!"
It was of him that the prophet Isaiah had spoken when he said:
A voice of one crying out in the desert,
Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths.
John wore clothing made of camel's hair
and had a leather belt around his waist.
His food was locusts and wild honey.”

 

And like always, my first thought is of those locusts.  How did he eat them?  Did he cook them? Raw? Live…?  And what about all that honey? Didn’t it get in his beard, his hair? Think about it… Sticky fingers, camel hair, and all that desert sand?  Just the hygiene issues overwhelm me. 

 

But then I looked back at the reading and found myself caught by those simple directions. “Make straight his paths…” And immediately I thought, Yes!  That’s what I need to do. I need to make a straight path.  That could be my Advent practice.  I need to put God first, focus my attention and start… Wait, a minute.

Suddenly I noticed how quiet the house was and looked at the clock.  It was barely 5am... You know what? Now would be a great time to throw together a batch of molasses spice walnut muffins. In fact, I could contemplate the Gospel while mixing them up and once they’re in the oven, I’ll be ready to start writing.  Perfect. I have a plan!  But plane are not my strong suit.

 

As soon as the muffins were in the oven (and that is not a euphemism), I realized: if I don’t clean up my dishes, the cats will get into them, maybe break something. So, instead of writing, I picked up my bowl and measuring cups, and figured I could contemplate a little longer while washing dishes. No problem. I’m still on track. But, wait. The sink already has dishes in it.  No problem, I can wash those too. More time to contemplate and then --writing!  But before I can run a sink full of water, I’m going to need to clear out these dishes and scrub the sink! And so, I get out the Barkeeper’s Friend and a sponge and start scrubbing the sink—which could be a euphemism—but isn’t this time.  Anyway, there I was scrubbing the sink, trying to ponder what Isaiah and John meant when they said: Make a straight path.  Was it just to make travel easier? Whose travel. The Lord’s… But the Lord doesn’t need a straight path. Right? He’s God… So, who are we straightening the path for? And again I thought: I could write about that! But just then, a cat started crying in the hallway.  He’s going to wake everyone and then my quiet time will be gone! I hurry down the hallway and find a cat standing in the bathtub. Waiting for me to turn on the water, so he can lap the drips falling from the spout. I do it, and make a straight path right back to my pen and notebook, but by now my coffee is cold. And the oven timer is going off. I get the muffins out and set them on a rack to cool, but then another cat starts fussing. She wants food.  I reach for a can, and another cat wanders up.  If I don’t feed them, they will jump up on the counter and start messing with my muffins (again, not a euphemism).  And suddenly I realized: I am living a kind of parable. And this straight path advice suddenly feels very personal.  And I know—I am terrible at this kind of thing. But I am going to try. I am going to recommit myself (again—not a euphemism) and make the time, make the effort, straighten out the pathway—clear away the obstacles and the distractions—so I can be more fully present to the Love that is always there waiting for me in God’s word.The straight path isn't for God, it is to God.  I need to get my priorities set straight. That is what I need this Advent... I need to make straight the path of my priorities, so I can know what I truly value.  Clearly, when I want some muffins, I make a straight path to the kitchen, and when I want the cats to settle down, I make a straight path to the cat-food bowls... Let me at least treat my relationship with God with the same commitment, the same intentionality, the same desire and desperation as I do a yowling cat!  And maybe that is a euphemism, of  sort. 

 

The cravings of the heart--some thoughts on Psalm 78 and Matthew 20

 “…while the food was still in their mouths…”

 --Psalm 78:30

 

Lately, I have taken to praying the psalms. I pick one and read it over and over again for a while, until I feel like I have prayed it out—I guess.  Or it has prayed me out.  Anyway, the other morning I opened my Bible looking for Psalm 88, which has been on my mind and in my heart for a while now. But instead, I accidentally stumbled into the middle of Psalm 78, one of the longer psalms. I was just about to turn the page and look for my intended, when I was caught by an image so startling that I was hooked, and without my knowing it, suddenly God was reeling me in.

 

Psalm 78 is a psalm of lessons from Israel’s history; recounting the Exodus and the desert wandering, it reminds us of God’s grace and God’s might, but also of Israel’s (and our own) obstinance.  And what caught my eye was that image of Israel, testing God’s patience, by asking constantly for more. God was feeding them manna from Heaven, and yet still the people muttered against Him. Sure, God can call forth streams of water from a rock, and send bread from Heaven, but what about meat?  Can He set a table for us right here in the desert? (cf. 78:19-20).  Yet, when God sends them meat, more meat than they can possibly eat, even as the food is in their mouths, their cravings were still upon them.  Instead of being grateful, and satisfied, their craving for something more, something different filled their hearts. Reading this I was reminded of my own cravings and appetites. How many times have I found myself, finishing a lovely dinner and already thinking about the next thing I want to eat. Not just another plate full of food, but already planning my next meal; even while food is in my mouth, I am already thinking about a snack, or starting to boil water for a cup of tea, and what about a slice of toast with honey! Hey, has anybody seen the box of Graham Crackers? Do we still have any ice-cream? Never mind. I think I’ll just make some popcorn…

Those cravings.  That constant hungering for something more. Something else… I relate to it. How often do I find myself blessed, given everything I need, ever wanted even... And still looking around, craving something more. One more pleasure, one more honor, one more word of praise... Last night as I was writing this reflection with my favorite fountain pen, I found myself wondering about fountain pens and suddenly I was shopping for a new pen... Even as I held in my hand one that I love, I was looking for a new one... Hmmm...  The more things change, the more they stay the same. Or so they say...

And what was God’s reaction to Israel's carping and craving?  According to the psalmist, with food still in their mouths and the cravings still in their heart, God’s wrath descended upon Israel, “slaughtering their strongest men…” (78:31). And, for some reason, as I read that, it struck me as full of meaning. Not just a statement of historic truth, but symbolic of something much more profound.  What does it mean to have your strongest men destroyed?  Paradoxically, I heard in this verse, not something fearful, but God’s grace. I heard in it an invitation. God takes away Israel’s strongest men, and by doing so He takes away their earthly power, their pride, their sense of security and independence.  By doing this, God makes Israel even more dependent on Him.  On God’s providence, and God’s grace. 

 

So, I began my day with this unexpected scene from Psalm 78, planted in my heart.  But, things really go interesting when we were watching Mass on-line and I heard the Gospel story about the mother of John and James asking Jesus to grant her sons a special place in His Kingdom, and their eagerness to drink the chalice that Jesus will drink (Mt. 20:20-28) .  We also hear how the other disciples are upset about this request.  And suddenly I realized: it’s the same story!  Here they are, James and John and all the disciples not just being fed manna from Heaven or piles of quail, but living with Jesus every day, walking with God, being fed by His Holy presence daily. The Lord is right there with them—the bread of life, so to speak, still in their mouths—and yet they crave more. More glory. More honor.  And it isn’t just James and John (or their mother). At one point all the disciples are arguing over who is most important.  Craving more… More significance.

 

And how does Jesus respond?  He takes away their security and power. He demands that they let go of, that they destroy, their strongest men; that they turn away from earthly glory and power and significance; lower themselves, become less, become like slaves.  Their egos, their pride, their craving for significance in the eyes of the world, their strongest men, must be slaughtered.

 

But Jesus called them to him and said, ‘You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.’ (Matthew 20:25-28)

 

The lesson of Lent is to learn to let go of our cravings, and to be rid of our ‘strong men,” to let ourselves rest in the Love of God. And be fed by the real bread of Heaven…

 

Thy will be done.

Our daily bread and the prayer of the Spirit--More thoughts on Romans 8:26

 “…the Spirit personally makes our petitions for us

in groans that cannot be put into words…”

--Romans 8:26b

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the Spirit praying for us, and in my contemplation my thoughts keep turning back to that prayer that the Lord, Himself teaches us:

 Thy will be done,

They kingdom come…

Give us this day, our daily bread…

Deliver us from evil…

 I figure that if this is what Jesus, Himself tells us to pray, then that is probably what the Spirit is praying for us.  While I am busily pleading with God for health and success and the phone number of a trustworthy plumber, the Spirit is petitioning that God’s will be done, and God’s kingdom will come…

 And that one particular phrase, “our daily bread” has stood out to me. Being a bread baker, and biscuit maker, I have my own particular tendency when I hear that phrase—and it leans toward melting butter, crackly golden crust, and orange marmalade (or grilled cheese).  But, as I prayed over this scripture recently, I find myself returning again and again to a different idea about my “daily bread.”  What if our daily bread, refers not just to food for our stomach.  What if it refers to food for our souls as well?

And again, this idea comes straight from the lips of Jesus. In John’s Gospel there is that story about the Samaritan woman at the well.  Toward the end of that story the disciples return with food and urge Jesus to have something to eat, but instead of asking if the waffle fries are still warm, the Lord says to them:

 “My food is to do the will of the one who sent me…” (John 4:34)

and that phrase keeps coming into my prayer—though now (for some reason) I am also thinking about waffle fries. Extra crispy… and a chocolate shake…

But, back to the point.  What does it mean to my prayer life to know that when Jesus speaks of daily bread, He might mean something other than sourdough or pumpernickel. He might be speaking of the sustenance and nourishment that come from doing God’s will.  And so, I am wondering if my daily bread might be God’s will; my daily bread might be the gift of a chance to do God’s will; to lean into a difficult moment and say: Not my will, but Thy will be done…

 The food of doing God’s will is food for my soul, food for the journey, food to sustain me in my time in the desert.  And thinking about this I am reminded of the story we hear at the beginning of each Lent, the story of Jesus fasting in the desert.  Immediately after He is baptized, He goes out into the desert and fasts for 40 days.  During this time, Satan comes to Jesus and tempts Him with promises of good things: food, security, success… and each time, Jesus responds: Not my will, but God’s will be done. 

On the surface, this seems to be simply a story of Jesus turning away from temptation and showing great restraint or will-power or even that He is clever-er than Satan.  But, what if this is really a story demonstrating how Jesus was fed during His time of fasting. The food He was nourished with was doing the will of the one who sent Him. 

To do God’s will, to walk with God, completely, and in complete harmony with God’s will is to dwell in the Kingdom of God’s Holy Presence. His Spirit… Is there anything more that the Spirit could want for us?

 And so I keep praying: Give us this day, our daily bread… And in groans that I cannot put into words, and cannot find on any fast-food menu, what I really mean is: Thy will be done, Thy kingdom come…

 At least, that’s what I want to be praying for, even if I can’t put it into words.

 

Those blessed sheep… a few thoughts for the feast of Christ the King

 

“Come you, who are blessed by my Father…”

--Matthew 25:34

 

Such a familiar parable, this story of the final judgment, this judgment of the king.  It comes near the end of Matthew’s gospel and is that wonderful story of the goats and the sheep being separated to the left and right because of how they behaved toward the poor, the sick, the naked, the hungry, the prisoner and the outcast; basically, those in want. It is a wonderful allegory of identity and ignorance, of revelation and reward, of charity and compassion and the sorrowful lack thereof.

 

I have too often focused on the idea of the reward in this story. The fact that the king invites the sheep into His kingdom because they were charitable, and sends the goats away with a curse because they failed to be charitable; that has always stuck with me.  As if it were a warning: be on the lookout! You never know when the king is coming; and He might be in disguise!  And I think that is one of the ways it is commonly read.  As a kind of instructional warning directed at those of us who struggle with selfishness, to be ever vigilant if we want to get invited into God’s kingdom. And I can see that this is a reasonable reading of this parable.

 

And yet, I hear something echo in that word “blessing,” that speaks to me on another level.  I looked up the word this morning. It is translated from the Greek eulogemenoi which literally means “being blessed” or “to be spoken well of; to praise” and is sometimes used to mean the conferral of something beneficial; i.e. praise or good words or a blessing!  But in this passage from Matthew the invitation to come or go is directed at those who “are blessed.” Which sounds like it could also mean that they have already received their reward. They ARE already blessed.  And as I contemplated that phrase I wondered something else.  I wondered about the kind of fable like premise of this parable. 

 

The parable implies that the king has been met and served (or not served) by these people in the guise of a prisoner or a beggar, an outcast or a sickly person.  And who is that “king,” but Jesus (God).  And so what is the reward that the sheep receive for their kindness to Him? They get to be in His kingdom, His presence forever.  And what is the punishment that the goats receive (or earn), but simply to be out of His presence forever (and to burn with hunger for it—I imagine).  And if that is the reward then what about that moment when they fed the hungry? Clothed the naked? Sat with the sick and comforted them, or visited the prisoner, welcomed the outcast?  In those actions, in those moments, when they did these things “for the least of [His] brothers,” isn’t the lesson that they [we] were doing them for Him. And so, in those moments of charity and kindness, where we serve Christ, aren’t we already in His presence? Aren’t we already in His kingdom? And if so, aren’t we already blessed? 

 

As St. Catherine of Siena famously said:  All the way to Heaven is Heaven. 

 

To be with Christ isn’t just a reward, it’s also a way of life.  Every time someone asks us for help, every time someone reaches out to us for consolation or even just a moment’s kindness, we are being invited to receive a blessing. We are being invited into the Kingdom of God.  Let us open our eyes to the glory of that invitation, and let us see in every face the grace of the one who is inviting us to come and meet Him not someday—but right here. Right now. In this moment. In this place. In this person.  And that, my friends, is truly a blessing.

 

Everytime I read my Bible, I am amazed by what I discover about God’s love.  Open your Bible my friends and take a moment to read. I promise you, you will be blessed by what you find there. 

 

Here is a short prayer you might pray before you begin to read.

 

Lord, open my eyes,

that I might read your word more clearly.

Lord, open my ears,

that I might hear your message more fully.

and Lord, open my heart,

that I will be filled with the Love that is found there.