My Luke 10 Dilemma

For years I’ve struggled with how two gospels seemed to portray the same moment, the same exchange, in such radically different ways. Perhaps there is truth to some peoples’ assertions that each is a different encounter; perhaps truth to the idea that each author recalled the same exchange differently. My struggle has been with the radically different portrayal of the expert/teacher of the Law who asked Jesus about which commandment is the most important, found in Mark 12 and Luke 10.

In Mark, I have always and read that the teacher is portrayed fairly positively. He asks Jesus, Jesus responds, he affirms Jesus’ answer, and Jesus then gives him a positive word:

One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”

“The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.”

“Well said, teacher,” the man replied. “You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but him. To love him with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.”

When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” (Mk 12:28-34a)

In this telling, the expert saw that Jesus gave a good answer. This seems to inspire him to ask the question burning in his heart (akin to the Samaritan’s woman question about worship in John 4), one he would ask of God if he could. And Jesus answers, and answers well. The expert sees the wisdom, agrees with Jesus, and Jesus speaks a word of affirmation we might all long to hear: “you are not far from the kingdom of God.”

I think these are words we long to hear, like another affirmation Jesus shares elsewhere – “well done, good and faithful servant.” A divine affirmation!

But in the gospel of Luke, I’ve always read/understood the character of the legal expert in a very different way. In this, he stands up to “test” Jesus. Jesus turns it around on him, and while he can answer the question himself, when Jesus affirms him, he seeks to “justify” himself; to prove himself right. In reply, Jesus shares the amazing story of the “good Samaritan”:

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“What is written in the Law?” he[Jesus] replied. “How do you read it?”

He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

(29) But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers…” (Luke 10:25-30a…)

After the story, Jesus asks the expert, “who was a neighbor to the man in distress?” And, of course, the expert responds, “the one who showed mercy.” To which we read Jesus’ exhortation, “go and do likewise.” In short, Jesus shares a story that tells the man “don’t worry about who is your neighbor; go and be a neighbor to others.”

As I prefaced, I generally have read this version from Luke as portraying the legal expert negatively. He was, as were others, trying to catch Jesus up in saying something inappropriate; in violating the Mosaic law, or their existing traditions. When Jesus affirms he does know what he should do, he wants to trap Jesus in sharing that his neighbor would be his fellow Israelites; he wants to “justify” his existing behavior; he wants to prove he is already righteous… because how could Jesus respond otherwise?

And yet, Jesus does respond otherwise. But, when I read Jesus’ response, there is no critique. There is no condemnation upon this questioner as he sometimes places on others who challenge or test him. No sense of exasperation in his response. He answers the question with a telling story, and then exhorts his listener to go and do likewise.

My friend Kevin made a comment in his podcast (LoFi Lectionary) about this story that put me in to researching the Greek word used in v. 29 and translated as “justify”: dikaios (dik’-ah-yos). It can be translated as “just, righteous, impartial” and often is used for “innocent.” It refers to being approved by God, one who observes divine and human laws.

So, it could be read as I have generally read it – that this was another self-righteous Pharisee who wanted to be affirmed that he was holy. BUT… it could be read another way.

I think it could be read, though, that he desired to be righteous; that he wanted to be right with God. Retranslated as such, v. 29 might read:

But he wanted to be right with God, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Doesn’t that change the exchange? Suddenly it is no longer another nefarious Pharisee, but it is someone more like Nicodemus. Someone rooted in a tradition, but truly desiring to know and follow God. And Jesus’ response makes more sense: there is no critique, because none is needed. Jesus answers the question, with a radical and telling story, because here is someone who wants to be right with God, who truly is seeking. And when this one can identify who was a neighbor, Jesus encourages him to go forth and do likewise.

Maybe this reading is wrongly influenced by my own perspective. Maybe I’m reading Scripture, of late, with Pollyanna’s glasses. Perhaps it is because I want to see the good in people – and am tired of the spiritual people of Jesus’ day always being seen only in negative terms – that this slight variation in how a single Greek verb is translated has seemed so insightful to me.

But I find greater hope in the narrative this way. The story of the “good Samaritan” has always been read as intended to be challenging; to present to us the idea that goodness can come from unexpected places and people.

If I’m honest, I am one of those unexpected people. I know myself, my heart, my life; I know to some degree the darkness I’m capable of… and yet, I often find, through my (always growing) faith, sometimes I do good, instead. Sometimes I am patient with the kids rather than just short-tempered; sometimes I am gracious to others instead of just defensive; sometimes I am generous instead of selfish.

And perhaps, too, the expert is one of those unexpected people. Perhaps he, too, contained the seed of goodness – a true, heart felt desire for holiness with God. Perhaps there was hope, even for him. I prefer the narrative this way over just another self-righteous holy man trying to challenge Jesus…

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A new word

I just read/learned a new word today, and it connects with some stories to tell.

In translating Psalm 63:1 – “O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul shirts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water” – into Welsh, William Morgan

“used a passionate and evocative word… hiraeth. (To pronounce the word, imaging adding the sound at the middle of ‘python’ – without the p and on – to the English word here: the result would be something like “here-ayth.”)… which might literally be rendered as “my body is homesick for you.” …Hiraeth is a powerful and emotionally dense word in Welsh… Hiraeth speaks to the heart’s longing for its one true home.” (The God Soaked Life, p. 81)

Not too long ago, my last entry on this blog was about a dream I had with a deep sense of loss. In a conversation with friends Cecil and Sandra Lackore about this sense of loss, Cecil wisely shared that home is where we choose to make it, with one another. That was inspiring; enlightening. My sense of home is being with with Lynn (and the children, I suppose!). When I’m away – when I spend long hours apart or, worse yet, travel, I feel disconnected. I feel an inner longing for home that is not a desire to sit in my LaZBoy or watch what’s next in my Netflix queue. It’s to be in proximity with those I love, and with whom I make my home.

Back in 2009 I was attending the third session of the Two Year Academy for Spiritual Formation, sometime within the first 12 weeks of Kate’s joining our home. That particular time away I felt a stronger sense of loss and absence – a stronger sense of hiraeth – than ever before. Because my family had grown, my sense of home had suddenly expanded, and so its absence seemed that much stronger.

I’ve used the same concept before to speak about our heart’s longing, our inner desire, for God. I’ve quoted and misquoted Augustine; “our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God.” But somehow tonight, as I read this word – hiraeth – and thought of my longing to be with my family even while I am engaged in meaningful conversation and relationship with others, it seemed to click in a new way. Tonight, this concept went beyond making sense in my head, and spoke to my heart.

Think of it this way:

My own longing for home (with my family) is present even in the midst of other things that are good; but my sense of hiraeth suggests that there is a hint, a promise, that things could be better. Visiting this camp might be better, if I had the evening to share and debrief with my children after they explored the Maine woods. Meeting with my colleagues might be better, if I could take an evening walk debriefing it with Lynn, or paint a ceiling tile with Kate, or drop Will in the freezing lake. Experiencing the shops and lighthouses of Maine for the first time might be better, if I were sharing the experience with my family; with those who fulfill, for me, that sense of “home.”

My life is good; but there is a hint, a promise, that things could be better. Walking this life might be better, if I chose to spend it with God more than I do. There is always, somewhere in the back of the moment, some sense of this – this hiraeth – this deep, heart deep longing for “home” with God.

Lost

I woke up messed up this morning. Emerging from a dream – which I will share, if you can hold its weirdness and inconsistency gracefully, to see the depth within – almost in tears. I couldn’t go back to sleep; I rose, mechanically, moving to the shower, eyes still moist.

Maybe it was the news of another senseless shooting; this time at a church. Maybe it was the detail that the pastor’s daughter had been shot and killed. Maybe it was the fear/anxiety I sometimes have for my kids – who generally feel safe to run free at church, and (honestly) should be able to!; but for whom I have a shadowy fear because of other pastors’ stories of harm and abuse that occurred to their own children. Maybe it was the combination of the first All Saints worship since losing my grandmother this April coinciding with the day I lost Gracie 7 years ago (and the month dad took ill 6 years ago). Meditation has given way to rumination; thoughts centered on the best things shifting to thoughts on what has been lost.

So I woke messed up from the dream…

I’m not sure how we got there, but we’re in my grandmother’s old home. The one on the full acre of land in California that I used to think was a farm; where the tunnel through overgrown juniper became an adventurous cave, and where the kitchen always smelled of percolated coffee (a sweet, vanilla like smell). She moved out a while ago, of course; but the new owners have let us set up in the living area during the day.

I’ve got scripts for the next few episodes on hand. Not only am I helping to write, but I’ve been cast as “Boo,” the older brother. We’ve filmed a couple episodes that have already aired. The house could be ours, but there’s an issue with the mortgage; its lumped in with two others.

There’s a contact to call. It seems funny, almost: “Dr. Leo Spaceman.” That was a character from another sitcom – 30 Rock – played by Chris Parnell. I call the number, and it’s Chris who answers. I tell him the mortgage lists him by his character’s name, and remind him we did a few skits together on SNL; but I was mostly forgettable. I mention the new show; he asks for its name. I can’t seem to remember, getting it confused with The Good Place. (The 3 word title is a play on words, something to do with realty [reality?]; “Outside I’m fine”?)

He gives us some information about how to resolve the mortgage question, but not enough. As the call ends, my friend notices that the screen on the phone changes. He share that’s a software glitch; it often happens when the person on the other end is putting a block against you.

We can’t stay; but I want to. I pull up a chair in the kitchen, trying to look at the tops of cupboards to see if anything was missed and left behind. I want to go out to the barn where my grandfather ran his trains. I want to eat fruit off trees I ate from as a child and shared with my own children. I want to open the pocket door in the spare room where the record player sat, where trains sat on tracks and planes hung in the air. But it’s not theirs any more, and its not mine, and we have to go…

I woke with a profound sense of loss. It’s kind of strange. I dreamt of my grandfather just a few weeks ago; I lamented with him, in his kitchen, that he didn’t get to know me as an adult, when I had mellowed out and discovered my own identity. (He had agreed with me in the dream.)

Even simplifying college years down to one “home” each, I lived in 13 different homes my first 36 years. But their home was the one permanent place our family had in all of that time.

Strange that a dream of the place triggered such deep emotional response. Maybe it’s symbolic. Maybe the permanence of place suggests a child’s expectation of the permanence of relationship; maybe the sense of loss for a cherished, childhood place is analogous to a sense of loss for safety in today’s violent chaos; maybe the “things” lost in dreams are talismans of deeper, important, but esoteric, non-tangible things…

The Facebook Effect & The Court Prophets of Old (Testament)

I don’t usually post sermon manuscripts/transcripts, but since our audio recording isn’t currently working I prepped this one and thus share it here for anyone with the grace to read the whole thing!
Prior to this sermon, we watched the following BBC video on Vimeo: “The Social Media Echo Chamber”

1 – The Facebook Effect: Social Media “Echo Chambers”

Let me begin with a caveat: as a later part of Generation X, I am a digital migrant, not a digital native. I remember thinking, when I came to NAU in the Fall of 1993 and was assigned an email address, “no one is going to use email!” (You could argue I was right, as now no one does use it but texts everything!) Similarly, I was slow to join Facebook or Social Media. In fact, it was my Worship Design Team that first goaded me on to the platform. They routinely shared that “the Bishop is on Facebook;” they finally got me to join when they declared, “you wife is on Facebook!”

Anyway, I turn to Facebook and social media as modern technologices that have accelerated a tendency of human behavior has existed for some time. In fact, it may be a natural tendancy for us, hard wired into our human condition. I’m referring to our choice to self-select
• groups we belong to,
• people we discuss things with, and
• the type of media we consume.
And, more specifically, we generally self-select such to correspond with our existing perspectives.

While this emerged last year in more and more discussions, it is not a new thing. In some minimal research this week, I discovered articles from the 1990s about such “echo chambers” related to media consumption, at that time focusing on talk radio shows. But the advent and explosive growth of social media have perhaps made these tendencies more observable and relevant.

According to tech blog Ars Technica, the PNAS (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States) recently undertook a study of the Facebook activity of 376 million(!) English-speaking users:

The authors found that Facebook users typically interact with a small number of news outlets. Users tend to confine their activity to a limited set of pages. These behaviors allow news consumption on Facebook to be dominated by selective exposure, meaning that people are most often exposed to news sources that reinforce their existing opinions. Though social media critics have been making this claim for a while, the authors’ quantification of this behavior adds strong empirical evidence to the argument.
“The Social Media ‘Echo Chamber’ is Real”; via Ars Technica

A Wikipedia article about echo chambers points out that “people trust evidence supplied by their own social group, more than they do the news media,” and goes on to share that,

“Another emerging term for this echoing and homogenizing effect on the Internet within social communities is cultural tribalism.”

I found that term, tribalism, intriguing because of conversations I’ve had with Brooke Isingoma. Some of you know Brooke; she was formerly a member here at Trinity Heights and after completing PHD studies in Africa she is now pasturing in Paige while she finishes her dissertation on African Christianity.

Brooke and I have talked some about tribalism. A key negative characteristic she identifies about tribalism, one that is radically different from our cultural experience, is the expectation and pressure toward conformity. Whether it be chosen freely or forced on members of the tribe, they are expected to conform to social behaviors, expectations, and norms. The way Brooke describes this emphasis, it is a radically different experience from our American norm of individualism, where we tend to emphasize the importance of the individual over that of the community.

Social Media Echo Chambers, and our tendency to self-select groups or media that reinforce our perspectives, present a problem to us. They limit our worldview and perspective. They may even prevent us from being challenged to hear the divine voice speaking to us!

I believe part of the solution to these echo chambers occurs somewhere between the over-emphasis on individualism of our culture and the conformity expected within others. But before I get to a potential solution, I want to share a few Biblical examples of the echo chamber. Then I’ll share some Biblical insight we can turn to in choosing how to respond.

2 – The Court Prophets of Old (Testament)

1 Kings 12 tells a story about King Rehoboam, son of Solomon and grandson of David. As Rehoboam is coming to power, the people send for exiled Jeroboam to be a spokesperson to him. They share with Rehoboam:

“Your father made our workload very hard for us…”

Let me pause for a moment of context. When Samuel, considered the last of the judges and first of the prophets, is approached by the people demanding a king, he prophesizes to them all of the bad things the king may do, including their oppression. Still, the people insist they want a king, so that they can “be like the other nations around us.” It is in King Solomon’s reign that Samuel’s prophecy comes to fruition; as Solomon does all of the things Samuel had warned the people about. As a result, they felt oppressed by their own king, and were frustrated. Back to the story of the people coming to Rehoboam:

“Your father made our workload very hard for us.” If you will lessen the demands your father made of us and lighten the heavy workload he demanded from us, then we will serve you.” He answered them, “Come back in three days.” So the people left.

King Rehoboam consulted the elders who had served his father Solomon when he was alive. “What do you advise?” Rehoboam asked. “How should I respond to these people?”

“If you will be a servant to this people by answering them and speaking good words today,” they replied, “then they will be your servants forever.”

But Rehoboam ignored the advice the elders gave him and instead sought the counsel of the young advisors who had grown up with him and now served him. “What do you advise?” he asked them. “How should we respond to these people who have said to me, ‘Lighten the workload your father demanded of us’?”

The young people who had grown up with him said to him, “This people said to you, ‘Your father made our workload heavy; lighten it for us!’ Now this is what you should say to them: ‘My baby finger is thicker than my father’s entire waist! So if my father made your workload heavy, I’ll make it even heavier! If my father disciplined you with whips, I’ll do it with scorpions!’”

Jeroboam and all the people returned to Rehoboam on the third day, just as the king had specified when he said, “Come back to me in three days.” The king then answered the people harshly. He ignored the elders’ advice and instead followed the young people’s advice. He said, “My father made your workload heavy, but I’ll make it even heavier! My father disciplined you with whips, but I’ll do it with scorpions!”
(1 Kings 12, selections, CEB)

I want to point out that “the young people who had grown up with him” and offer him advice offer it from a perspective similar to his own. They have only known the reign of King Solomon; they do not remember the kingdom as it existed during David’s tenure. They probably even know similar experiences as children of the elite. And so they fan Rehoboam’s ego, encourage his natural inclination to being “better” than his predecessor. And, as a result, the kingdom of Israel, united in no small part because of David’s efforts, splits into two kingdoms; neither of which are to have a great history from that point forward.

There is a similar story in 1 Kings 22, where Israel’s King Ahab has surrounded himself with 400 court prophets who seem to share his perspective.  Judah’s King Jehosaphat comes to visit, and they discuss a region (Ramoth-gilea) that had been within Israel’s borders but had been taken over by another country:

So Israel’s king gathered about four hundred prophets, and he asked them, “Should I go to war with Ramoth-gilead or not?” “Attack!” the prophets answered. “The Lord will hand it over to the king.”

But Jehoshaphat said, “Isn’t there any other prophet of the Lord whom we could ask?” “There is one other man who could ask the Lord for us,” Israel’s king told Jehoshaphat, “but I hate him because he never prophesies anything good about me, only bad. His name is Micaiah, Imlah’s son.”

Note that King Ahab already critiques Micaiah because he isn’t a “yes man” like the other court prophets. Jehosphat convinces Ahab to send for Micaiah:

Meanwhile, the messenger who had gone to summon Micaiah said to him, “Listen, the prophets all agree that the king will succeed. You should say the same thing they say and prophesy success.”

But Micaiah answered, “As surely as the Lord lives, I will say only what the Lord tells me to say.”

When Micaiah arrived, the king asked him, “Micaiah, should we go to war with Ramoth-gilead or not?”

“Attack and win!” Micaiah answered. “The Lord will hand it over to the king!”

But the king said, “How many times must I demand that you tell me the truth when you speak in the name of the Lord?”

Then Micaiah replied, “I saw all Israel scattered on the hills like sheep without a shepherd! And then the Lord said: They have no master. Let them return safely to their own homes.”

Then Israel’s king said to Jehoshaphat, “Didn’t I tell you? He never prophesies anything good about me, only bad.”
(1 Kings 22, selections, CEB)

Guess who Ahab listens to? Yes, the 400 court prophets, instead of Micaiah. As a result, Ahab goes in to battle at Ramoth-Gilead, but he takes a precaution to dress not as a king but as a common soldier. Even so, while the enemy seems to focus its energies on Jehosaphat, dressed as king, a stray arrow strikes and kills Ahab, leaving the people of Israel without a leader.

Jeremiah 28 gives another example, where the Jeremiah squares off with the court prophet Hananaiah, who is sharing with the king and officials they should not fear the Babylonian exile because it will only last for a few years.
There’s a well-known verse elsewhere in Jeremiah that touches on these echo chambers, where kings and officials only listened to the prophets that spoke positively. In Jeremiah 8, he shares God’s critique of such:

…prophets and priests alike, all practice deceit.
They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious.
“Peace, peace,” they say, when there is no peace.
(Jeremiah 8:20b-11, NIV)

3 – Responding to Modern Echo Chambers

I find some biblical guidance in how to respond from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. I have portions of this letter at the start of my journal precisely beause of the wsdom here shown.

First, we are invited to “live worthy of the calling”

Therefore, as a prisoner for the Lord, I encourage you to live as people worthy of the call you received from God.
(Eph. 4:1, CEB)

There are a variety of aspects to our calling in Christ. But the one that first came to mind has to do with how we will be identified, and called, as God’s people. In Matthew 5, during the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus shares:

Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they shall be called children of God.
(Matthew 5:9, NIV)

As followers of the Prince of Peace, we are called to be peacemakers. We are told we will be called and known as children of God when we seek to build and live in peace.

Paul continues this same thought, when he encourages us to “live in unity”

Conduct yourselves with all humility, gentleness, and patience. Accept each other with love, and make an effort to preserve the unity of the Spirit with the peace that ties you together. You are one body and one spirit, just as God also called you in one hope. There is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father of all, who is over all, through all, and in all. (Eph. 4:2-6, CEB)

Paul emphasizes that we are called to live in unity, not uniformity. I think this is the healthy middle ground between individualism and conformity. In seeking unity, we recognize and value our individuality while also emphasizing and valuing community, and our part within it. Remember, Paul routinely refers to our connections in community in terms of a “body,” where all parts are connected and important.
Further, I read in Paul an encouragement to us to “speak, and listen, in love”

In Christ, called to grow up, to speak the truth to one another, in love: we aren’t supposed to be infants any longer who can be tossed and blown around by every wind that comes from teaching with deceitful scheming and the tricks people play to deliberately mislead others. Instead, by speaking the truth with love, let’s grow in every way into Christ, who is the head. The whole body grows from him, as it is joined and held together by all the supporting ligaments. The body makes itself grow in that it builds itself up with love as each one does its part. (Eph. 4:14-16, CEB)
Therefore, after you have gotten rid of lying, Each of you must tell the truth to your neighbor because we are parts of each other in the same body. (Eph. 4:25, CEB)

Not only are we encouraged, as we seek to grow up in Christ, to speak the truth in love, but Paul goes on to share how we do so:

Don’t let any foul words come out of your mouth. Only say what is helpful when it is needed for building up the community so that it benefits those who hear what you say. Don’t make the Holy Spirit of God unhappy—you were sealed by him for the day of redemption. Put aside all bitterness, losing your temper, anger, shouting, and slander, along with every other evil. Be kind, compassionate, and forgiving to each other, in the same way God forgave you in Christ. (Eph, 4:29-32)

Rule 3 of our family’s six rules is related to this, “use kind words in a kind voice.” We are reminded that our language is powerful, and Paul encourages us to speak truthfully, but also to avoid foul words; to avoid speaking evil and only that which helps build others up. To put aside negative things like bitterness, anger, slander, and choose to be kind, compassionate, and forgiving.

I believe that this applies not only to speaking but also to listening (in love). Not only is this a relevant application of both Ephesians and other Scripture, but it is also a strategy recommended by others who are studying and writing about filter bubbles. A solution to overcome filter bubbles is to listen to others, particularly those with different perspectives than our own.

The book of James addresses this well, too, in 1:19:

Know this, my dear brothers and sisters:
everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to grow angry.
(James 1:19, CEB)

Quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to grow angry. Those are wise words, but it seems to me that in too much of modern discourse we flip that on its head and choose to pursue the opposite: quick to anger, quick to speak, slow to listen… If we could choose to follow James’ exhortation, perhaps we’d have more civil dialogue and be able to expand our perspectives.

I want to share a recent experience that illustrates both the good and ugly of speaking and listening.

A couple summers ago, I attended a special summer course at Asbury Theological School in Kentucky. Going to Asbury was a step outside of my usual comfort zone; I’m generally centrist, and going to an enclave known for evangelical conservatism was a bit of an uncomfortable shift for me. But I went because I knew one of the two professors leading the course on Wesleyan theology (something that interests me).

I feel blessed to claim Dr. Phil Meadows as a colleague and friend (I won’t speak as to whether he might claim me as such). I’ve known Phil since he was my professor of Wesleyan Studies at Garrett Evangelical Theological Seminary. Phil and I do not agree on all things – in fact, if we were to take a tally of theological, ideological, and social perspectives, we probably hold varied perspectives on many.

But we both do agree on the foundational importance of Scripture, and take the Bible very seriously. We both believe in the high value of our Wesleyan heritage and theology, and believe there is insight in our heritage to lead us in our contemporary settings. Yet we may come to different conclusions from these common starting points.

That said, Phil remains to me an inspiration in relation to evangelism and ministry. Today he splits his time between the INSPIRE Movement in England and Asbury. So I went to this class knowing that though we might have some disagreements, overall there was much that I find in common with Phil and how he seeks to follow Jesus Christ in the company of John Wesley. And Phil didn’t disappoint me; his lectures and classes were well thought and well presented.

However, that wasn’t my experience with his colleague. The other professor also had good content and ideas, some of which I am still intrigued by and exploring; but his approach was salted with negatives. Whether from anger or self-righteousness, his speech was peppered that week with derogatory, denigrating comments for those with other opinions, including leaders, liberals, and any Methodist in the Western Jurisdiction. Even if this professor had good content, it was colored, to me, because of the way in which he presented it.

We’re called and exhorted, as followers of Christ, to speak and listen in love. To be quick to listen, slow to speak, and (dare I say) slow-er to anger. I believe that if we can find ways to listen, to invite others to share their perspective in similar loving ways, we can broaden our understanding of one another, of our world, and even of God. (We all seem but in a mirror, dimly, after all.)

In closing, I believe an early portion of Max Ehrmann’s poem Desiderata speaks well both to living in unity and to listening and speaking in love:

As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

(And thank you for listening to me.)

It’s to easy to say “hate has no place”

I think it is too easy to say “hate has no place” in our lives.

Be we Christian or not.

As I pondered how to respond to events in Charlottesville this week, I actually began to wonder: is there any role for hate in our lives?

Perhaps; against the SYSTEMS that perpetuate injustice, division, discrimination, racism, sexism, or any other -ism. We can hate systems that lead to and perpetuate evil. My religious tradition includes an exhortation to “hate what is evil,” even while instructing me to love others with sincerity (Rom. 12:9).

But I stand firm there is no place for hatred toward other people. Period.

Because, and here’s the thing: evil is insidious, and it escalates easily.

When challenged about divorce, and/or during his Sermon on the Mount when he challenges long established law, Jesus made clear that some Old Testament / Hebraic Torah law was specifically because we are hard hearted as people, and evil escalates. “Eye for an eye” was needed to hinder our otherwise bent toward extracting greater revenge when someone wronged us, eg “you took my eye, I will kill you.”

But non-escalation isn’t enough for Jesus. He teaches us to go further, to truly find the angels of our better natures and love. To love not just those who love us, but to love our enemy; to do good to those who would harm us.

Evil escalates. No one just suddenly decides to hate.

Evil escalates. Self-righteousness in our own goodness leads to pride. Pride leads us to think we are better than others – particularly “those people” who aren’t as good, or as holy, or as… “whatever”… as us. Such pride leads to division, discrimination, bigotry, hate…

Evil escalates, and can rise from something as simple and insidious as our bent to normalization.

We all tend to normalize our experience, and assume others’ experiences and resulting behaviors should be similar. When, in reality, we don’t know others’ situations, and their behavior – even that which we might judge – might have been normalized for them. (As the old saying goes, “be kinder than necessary, everyone is fighting some battle.”)

We normalize our experience, and then judge others whose experiences may have been – in fact, likely have been – very different.

Then, we respond out of our perspectives, and our responses differ. I may look at a particularly rowdy bunch of kids as “disrespectful” and question my commitment to sharing God’s love with them; and because evil escalates, someone else may look at the same bunch of kids and judge them needing correction, or punishment; and because evil escalates, someone else may look at the same group and judge them as wanting… and because evil escalates, someone else may look at them, from whatever has been “normalized” for them, and hate…

To truly follow Jesus’ command to love, and to avoid allowing evil to escalate to hate in our lives, we have to bring our differences to bear to help one another. We have to share our stories, risking vulnerability, to share our perspectives.

More importantly, we have to listen to others’ perspectives and experiences, to what is “normal” for them; whether that is our experience or not. We have to walk humbly enough to know that our own story is not the only story. We have to love mercy enough to extend to it others who we may want to judge wanting in some way. We have to act justly toward all.

At times I have to be jarred out of my provincial myopic perspective of life. I have to encounter others who challenge me, who rub me a little raw, who help me to see the world a little bit differently. If I want to know peace, and help my community and world know peace, I must be willing to love. As Frederick Buchner so well put about Jesus’ thought about peace (shalom): “For Jesus, pease seems not to be the absence of conflict, but the presence of love.”

If we want to be peacemakers – if we want to be those called “children of God” who follow after the example of Jesus – we have to be bold and courageous enough to love; to love even when others hate; to stand up for justice even when the situation seems foreign to us; to extend mercy to those who seem so radically different than us. If we want to be peacemakers, we have to love God and love others, and hate those systems which devalue or divide or destroy.

Mark, Matthew, and Luke walk into this coffee shop…

Now that we’ve used it twice, I doubt we’ll be returning to this script any time in the near future, so I thought I’d share the Easter Sunday worship script I wrote with the youth of Trinity Heights U.M.C. We first wrote and presented this in 2015, and again this year…

Enjoy!

A Script For Easter

Sitting With Sparrows (1998)

(This is an old one – a story reflection on communion. But I don’t have it posted anywhere here, so thought I’d share!)


He believes the sparrows know him by name, he has spent every morning with them for so long. He sits at the corner table, just far enough under the canopy to be clear of rain but open enough to be in the warming rays of the morning sun. Each day he arrives five minutes before the coffee shop opens its doors, and sits quietly with a book du jour, while the sparrows flock around him as soon as he sits. The shop’s serving staff has become so accustomed to him that they bring a hot cafe mocha and muffin to him just as the doors are unlocked. Silently drinking his coffee he splits the muffin in half, then patiently breaks off pieces to feed the swarming, fighting birds.

It was a spring morning, free of the chill that often settled in the desert air. The sun was shining brightly and warmly through a cloudless sky as the man walked up and took his seat. Closing his eyes for a moment, smiling at the constancy of the old man, William turned from the counter and began mixing the man’s regular cup of coffee. William selected a fresh muffin from the day’s assortment and placed it on a small plate he carried with the coffee to the door. Jenna smiled at him, unlocking and opening the door that he might step into the sun himself.

The old man was reading as William walked up, but looked up from his book smiling. Upon seeing William the man tilted his head, his smile fading, and he lowered the book to the table as William placed the muffin and coffee before him.

“Good morning, sir,” William said with his customary lopsided grin, beginning to turn to return to the counter.

“Just a moment please, son,” the man responded. William looked back at him. “Do you have a few minutes, son?”

William’s mouth and eyebrows undoubtably showed his surprise for a moment, for in the year and a half the man had been sitting at the table every morning he had rarely spoken much to any of the staff. His first visit he had come into the shop, waited in line, and demurely asked for the cafe mocha “and a nice muffin, please.” Midway through his third week of visiting the shop the staff members had begun to take a secret joy in preparing his coffee and selecting a muffin for him just as he arrived. The man always smiled and thanked whoever served him, paying an even six dollars each time, leaving his server a seventy-five cent tip and a feeling of joyful consistency. “Just a few words with an older man?”

“Certainly,” William said, pulling a chair from the table and settling into it. The sparrows chirped as they hung from the wall or sat atop the roof looking down. Beginning to unrwap his muffin, the man looked at William.
“My name is William, sir.”

The man stopped and offered William his hand. “Charles O’Rourke. Nice to meet you, William.” William shok the offered hand, smiling.

“I don’t think any of us have ever known your name,” William commented, then felt a pang in his stomach that this was a stupid thing to say.

“Perhaps none of the current staff, but Joseph and I spoke a few times,” the man said as he returned to unwrapping and splitting his muffin. Joseph had worked at the shop for two months the past winter; he had been very quiet around the staff and customers, and William knew little about him save that he had an affinity for reading poetry during his breaks. “Your eyes seem troubled today, William.”

“Pardon me?”

“Forgive an old man’s candor, but I find politeness has limits. Did the two of you fight, or is it something else? I am, of course, referring to the pretty blonde who often kisses you as she sometimes gets her morning coffee.”

“Her name is Kristin,” William told Charles. “We…” His mind was spinning at the man’s perceptiveness, and his recent discussion with Kris; he couldn’t put anything into words. She had told him the night before she was in love with someone else. She had tried to allay his breaking heart with words of comfort, to no avail. He could not remember much of what she had said after telling him she loved another, except that she could not see him for awhile. She had met him at a nearby restaraunt and he had left her there, teary eyed over a peach iced tea. “We broke up last night,” he told the man, wondering as he did so why he did so, hearing a finality in his voice he hadn’t known would be there.

“Ah,” was all Charles said in response. William watched as he broke a piece of muffin and held it out to a waiting sparrow. The bird paused, cocking its head to eye William and then, deciding he must be safe, hopped up to the offered morsel. Taking it from Charles’s fingers he winged off to the roof while the man used his free hand to sip his coffee.

Jenna pocked her head out the door. “Excuse me,” she said politely, though there was surprise lurking behind her cordiality, “William, we’ll need your help in a few moments.”

“Certainly, young miss. I won’t detain him much longer,” Charles said, looking up and smiling at Jenna. She smiled back and ducked inside. Charles took a bit from his half muffin, breaking a piece off the other. William thought of the questions that would lay in wait inside the shop.

“My wife used to bake half a dozen large muffins every Sunday and Wednesday,” Charles said as he slipped a morsel to another expectant sparrow. “We would split one while they were still warm, sitting in our kitchen by the picture window. Each with a cup of coffee. We would split another each morning. On Saturday she would crumble the five remaining muffins, and place them in the feeder outside the window. For many happy years we spent our mornings together this way; sharing a muffin and coffee, talking and sitting with one another, watching the birds come to feed off the same bread.”

A plane passed by on approach in the sky, and the man looked up as it flew overhead. William noticed a dampness in Charles’s eyes; the mist that often accompanies memories. He could hear the gentle hum of life beginning in the coffee house; knew the need they had for him inside, but he remained sitting, listening.

“These were always moments of great happiness between us,” the man said, “despite what might have happened the day before or what might be ahead.

“She took sick two years ago. We tried to share a muffin every morning in the hospital, but it was not the same.” The man paused, sipping his coffee and feeding a chirping bird. “There was still happiness and peace in that time together, but there was also an air of unease in the unfamiliar surrounding that we never overcame. When she finally passed away, it was late one morning, and our muffin lay untouched by her bed.

“I’ve felt her presence since then, young man; every morning.” Charles took a bite from his muffin, looking at William. “I feel her with me every morning I sit here, and the joy and peace we had remains. They help me through the day.” He smiled, looking William squarely in the eye. “Bad times are real, but joy and peace, they are more real.”

The door opened and Jenna was there. “Looks like they need you inside, William,” Charles told him. “You have a good day, young man, and find joy where you can.”

William stood, smiling at the old man. “Thank you, Mr. O’Rourke. You have a pleasant day, too.” Charles tilted his head to look up at him. “I will. Thank you.”

William turned, going inside the busy coffee shop. Later, after Charles had left the table behind, William watched the remaining plate carefully. When the crowd of sparrows had finished the last crumbs of muffin, William retrieved the plate and cup; then went on smiling and serving the various souls that came to him that day.

-1998, rvb